Chapter 5
Clarissa added a solid sized log of wood into the merrily burning fireplace. She'd closed the blinds and turned down the lights in the living room. The dim light changed the atmosphere, making the room appear much smaller.
There were footfalls in the hallway, but she remained turned away from that direction. She could sense him stop near the vicinity of the couch and study her movements. His breathing was harsh yet controlled, as if he’d been chasing something and was preparing to pounce.
“You! Woman,” he growled and closed the distance to grab her from behind.
Or so she assumed, because he hefted her over his bare shoulder in a converted fireman's carry. Her head slumped over his back, able to see the broad muscles of his back and waist, interrupted by what might have been a belted-on towel.
Even though her hair was hanging down, she was dying to take a little nibble of his perfectly sculpted traps.
Wait. She was supposed to be protesting.
“Stop. Put me down. You brute!” She flailed about, her fists bouncing off the wide expanse of his sculpted back.
Then she squeaked when he gave her ass a solid smack.
The t-shirt she'd borrowed from him had ridden up, and the fact she had no panties on was apparent by the sound.
And probably the wetness dripping in anticipation of what Roan had agreed to do.
“Quiet. You. Woman.” He slapped her butt again, harder this time.
The caveman strode down the hall to the darkened master bedroom and unceremoniously tossed her onto the bed. She bounced on the mattress, noting a lack of bedding except the fitted sheet.
The only light was from two candles on the dresser, giving the room the sense of a darkened cavern.
“Woman. Mine.” He kept his distance, a good six feet away as he stroked himself through the towel. Roan was watching her closely, his expression remote and closed off.
Since she was supposed to be his captive, she scrambled off the bed and made for the door.
Before she could get more than three steps, he caught her again and threw her back on the bed.
“No. Stay,” he said sternly, resuming his touch of the growing bulge under the towel.
This was the game, to be claimed by the caveman. She had the option of trying to escape until he decided to stop playing the nice Neanderthal. Then he’d stop waiting and simply take what he wanted from her.
To test her theory, she attempted to sit up, and a large, firm hand pushed her back onto the bed.
“Bad. No. Bad,” her caveman admonished her in a decisive tone. Rather than giving her any additional opportunity to make a break for it, he climbed on top of her, straddling her. His stiff cock laid against her hip, a trickle of precum smearing her bare skin.
She was far more bare a second later because he stripped the t-shirt from her. With disturbing ease, he shredded the shirt and used its remains to bind her wrist above her head to the headboard.
Clarissa tugged at her new bounds, confirming they weren’t too tight. “Let me go.”
Those whisky colored eyes glittered in the dim light, and he loomed over her, one thumb brushing her panting lips. “No. Mine.”
His large hand roamed down the front of her chest before resting on the peaked nipple of her left breast. He flicked the tip, sending sparks to her core, and she arched back involuntarily. “Soft. Nice.”
She chewed her lip in a weak show of resistance, which was the last thing she wanted to do. “No. No.”
Roan ignored her and began playing with both of her breasts in a way intended to crumble her defenses. “Pretty. Pretty. Like this?”
Yes, she very much liked it. Wrong character. “Stop.”
Technically, he obeyed, in a fashion, because he scooted his body off hers in order to suckle one tip into his mouth.
Without his weight holding her down, she writhed against his sensual assault, moaning and shifting.
This was what she’d requested—a big, buff caveman to take her whether she wanted it or not.
Roan’s mouth was relentless, switching from side to side at his leisure.
His position, where he framed her with his hands and knees, kept her from gaining purchase against his body.
She could brush him with glancing movements, feeling his radiating heat yet not enveloped.
Her body craved what he was giving her and what he was denying her.
Without warning her, he climbed off, leaving her cold and crying out in protest. “What? What are you doing?”
He paced at the end of the bed, posture communicating his enjoyment of drinking in what must have been her very flushed skin. That right hand of his was back under the towel, stroking where the fabric tented.
Still not speaking, he knelt at the end of the bed and gripped her legs to pull her toward him. It stretched the tie more, trapping her arms in full extension.
Clarissa’s thighs spread unbidden, trained so well by him to display how ready she was for him.
It was a near certainty that she’d orgasm the moment his erection breached her entrance.
From the way he was staring at her most intimate part, he might not even need to touch her.
She was helpless, open for him to take at his leisure.
Instead of jumping on her, he scooted forward and gave her exposed labia a quick swipe of his tongue. At her hiss, he keened, “Sweet.”
“Please,” she begged, her slick center dripping freely onto that single sheet.
“Not ready.” He set his skilled caveman mouth to the task of licking and sucking, with obvious enjoyment of the taste of her juices. He didn’t stop when the first orgasm swept over her, a scream of ecstasy, unable to arch as ate her out.
“Too much. Too much. Stop.” His hands kept her pinned, his mouth inescapable, drinking deeper in her soaked core. Her hips bucked in a plea for both relief and to draw him deeper.
She couldn’t stop him. She wouldn’t stop him. She didn’t want to stop him.
The caveman was readying her for his possession. He was preparing her to take his entire length the way he decided, when he decided, how he decided.
Once he added two fingers into her channel, the second orgasm overwhelmed her, leading to a full throated shriek, “Roan!”
Just like that, he released her, standing over the bed again. “Good. Good.”
Then he unbelted the towel, dropping it to the floor to reveal a monster erection. “Now ready. Good girl.”
Some of her favorite words.
Wait, the caveman was about to have his way with her. She needed to whine, even if her true feelings betrayed her by lifting her hips in invitation. Her body craved him filling her with that massive cock.
“No. We can’t. Stop.”
Roan ignored her token objection and stood. He cupped her ass and dragged her hips forward. It tightened the t-shirt even more, guaranteeing no possibility of her creating any leverage. Then he shot forward, penetrating her deep.
She shrieked again, pleasure mixed with a tiny amount of pain from his size.
He liked it, his growls feral. “Hot. Wet. Mine.”
“More. More, Daddy Roan.” She abandoned the pretense he wasn’t granting her every desire, almost forcing the ecstasy on her.
That brought another powerful response, his eyes boring into hers as he lined their faces up, every muscle contracted. Without kissing her, he lay one hand on her lower abdomen, above where they were joined. “Baby. Here.”
She caught her breath. The caveman was telling her he was planting a baby in her womb. He’d trapped her, impaled on his cock and soon to be filled by his cum.
“Yes? More?” His pupils were dilated, fixed on her face. Every sinew of him held still, reminding her she couldn’t stop him and refusing to give her the friction she needed to come. “Baby?”
Best of everything.
“Yes. Yes,” she called out, ensnared in the play with this grain of truth. “Yes. Put a baby in me, Roan!”
He snarled his approval and lifted her legs over his shoulders, effectively bending her in half, an even tighter fit. He pounded her hard, his caveman demeanor devolving into phrases like. “Fuck, Lissa. Take it all, good girl. Gonna fill you up.”
She shattered on one deep thrust and felt him follow her under, his cock pulsating in release of its promised load.
Roan immediately changed position and character, maneuvering to lower her legs and lay beside her. He reached above her and freed her arms, letting her snuggle into his broad chest. Their breathing naturally synchronized, and he whispered, “You okay?”
“Never better,” she confirmed in her post-orgasm haze. Play caveman sex did wonders for her mood and desire to forgive his sort of white lie to Tristan.
Her brother ripping him limb from limb would have put a damper on things.
“Not cold?” He took what was left of the T-shirt and cleaned up between her legs. Judging by how he kept wiping, there was quite a bit.
“Toasty warm. And if you keep doing that, you’ll get another chance to heat me up.” She wriggled suggestively.
“You are a very naughty captive.” He kissed her this time, the act the caveman had not used.
As always, she melted into his kiss. So right, so sexy, so hungry, all twisted together.
“I’m your captive.” She lay her head on his shoulder, replaying what they had just done and starting to fantasize about what else they could do today.
They needed to take advantage of what time they had because her new call schedule would make timing much more complicated.
Speaking of complications, he had freestyled an interesting twist into their scenario…
Clarissa said, “Did you really mean that baby thing you said?”
Roan blinked, almost dazed. “The baby thing?”
She wrapped her hands around his broad shoulders and squeezed. “Yeah, the baby in my belly thing. Was that a caveman thing?”
It was hard to believe, but he might have blushed. “No.”
“Yes. Oh... So, a baby in me,” she mumbled, squeezing harder. He'd been so insistent on her getting a Depo shot, she was surprised he thought this was even a possibility.
“Possession,” he rumbled, licking her ear and lowering his hand to her lower abdomen—or maybe the better word was womb. “Nothing would prove you mine more than my baby in your belly.”
The way he said it made her shiver head to toe.
He kissed her shoulder, and his other hand slid up her chest. “I can see you getting lush, curvier. Plump and all mine.”
“You're a very dirty daddy.” They’d never touched on actual pregnancy kinks. She was finding this as hot as he obviously did.
“The caveman says yes.” His hand wandered from her belly to between her legs. “We would make the cutest babies.”
“Or the surliest. Between you and Tristan, there'd be surly on both sides of the family.”
“Outweighed by your dulcet goodness.” Roan’s hand was playing with the wetness increasing at her slit. “The caveman would keep you pregnant all the time. Everyone would see you and know what he’d been doing.”
“Dirty dirty.” She arched her back, her body voting for more.
“Thing is, Caveman isn’t quite sure how babies are made. He’d fuck your pretty kitty a few times first.” The fingers slipped a few inches backward to the rosette of her rear entrance. Coated in her slick, his thumb breached the hole without resistance. “Then he’d go here. Gotta be sure.”
Yep, her Daddy Roan was going to make this the best final day off ever.