Chapter 7 - Belle
My dream is finally happening.
Richard Kane, the man I've fantasized about for two years, the man I've wanted with an intensity that made me hate myself, just made me come with his mouth and fingers. And now he's standing before me, completely naked, his cock hard and thick and pointing toward me.
He's big. Really big. Thick enough that I'm not entirely sure how he's going to fit, long enough that I can already imagine feeling him everywhere.
But am I surprised? No. Of course Richard would have a big cock. The man is the whole package: devastatingly handsome, brilliant, successful, and apparently hung like a god. Because the universe decided to bless one man with absolutely everything.
"Belle." His voice is rough, strained. "You're staring."
"You're beautiful." The words slip out before I can filter them. "All of you. You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen."
I wrap my hand around his cock, and stroke slowly from base to tip. He groans, his hips jerking forward involuntarily, and I watch pre-cum bead at the head.
"Belle, if you keep doing that, this is going to be over embarrassingly fast."
"I don't care." I stroke him again, fascinated by the way his abs contract, the way his breathing gets ragged. "I want you. However this happens, I just want you."
He makes a sound that's half growl, half groan, and then he's scooping me up again, easily, like I weigh nothing. One arm hooks under my ass, the other supporting my back, and suddenly I'm lifted against the wall, my legs wrapping around his waist.
Nathan tried to pick me up once. Twice, actually. Both times he complained about my weight, about how I needed to lose a few pounds before we could try positions like this. Made me feel heavy, burdensome, like my body was an inconvenience.
But Richard makes it look effortless. His muscles don't even strain as he holds me, positions me, lines himself up at my entrance.
"Ready?" he asks, his voice tight with restraint.
I nod, not trusting my voice, and then he's pushing inside.
I'm wet, soaked from his mouth, from the orgasm he just gave me, so he slides in easily, but God, he's so thick. I feel every inch as he pushes deeper, filling me in a way I've never been filled before.
Nathan always complained that I wasn't tight enough, that sex with me was like "throwing a hot dog down a hallway." Made me feel inadequate, broken, like my body was fundamentally wrong.
But Richard's cock fills me perfectly. Stretches me just right, hits places I didn't know could be touched. And the way he's looking at me, like I'm everything, like this is the best thing he's ever felt, makes me feel desired in a way I've never experienced.
"Fuck," he groans when he's fully seated inside me. "You feel incredible. So tight, so perfect. Like you were made for my cock."
I can't respond. Can't form words. Because he's inside me! Richard Kane is inside me, and it feels so good I might actually cry!
He gives me a moment to adjust, his forehead pressed to mine, both of us breathing hard. Then he starts to move.
The first thrust is slow, and it makes my eyes roll back in my head. He pulls almost all the way out and then pushes back in, deep and steady, and I feel it everywhere. In my core, in my chest, in my fingertips.
"Oh my God." The words come out broken, gasping. "Richard, that's—"
"Good?" He does it again, that slow, deep thrust that makes my toes curl. "Does it feel good, baby?"
"Yes. God, yes." My head falls back against the wall, my mouth dropping open as he establishes a rhythm. "I've never… It's never felt like this—"
"That's because you've never been fucked by someone who actually knows what they're doing." His voice is possessive now. "Never been with a man instead of a boy. But you are now, Belle. And I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."
He punctuates the statement with a harder thrust, and I cry out, loud enough to echo off the glass walls. My nails dig into his shoulders, trying to anchor myself as pleasure builds with each stroke.
I can't focus. Can't think. Can't do anything except feel: the friction as he moves, the way his pelvis grinds against my clit on every thrust. My eyes won't stay open, rolling back every time he hits that perfect spot deep inside.
My mouth won't close, hanging open as sounds I've never made pour out.
Drool slides from the corner of my lips, and I don't even care. I'm completely gone, lost in sensation, floating in a haze of pleasure I didn't know was possible.
"Look at you." Richard's voice is reverent, awed. "So fucking beautiful like this. Taking my cock so well, making those perfect sounds. This is how you should always be… Mindless with pleasure, worshipped exactly the way you deserve."
His words make me clench around him, and he groans, his rhythm faltering slightly.
"That's it, baby. Squeeze my cock. Show me how good it feels."
I'm babbling now—please and yes and Richard and God and every curse word I know, all tumbling out in an incoherent stream.
"You're close." It's not a question. Richard can feel it, can read my body like a book. "I can feel how tight you're getting, how your pussy is gripping my cock. You going to come for me again, Belle? Going to show me how beautiful you are when you fall apart on my cock?"
"Yes," I gasp. "Yes, I'm—I'm going to—"
"Then let go." He drives into me harder, faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin obscene in this quiet space. "Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel you."
I scream his name, my whole body convulsing, my inner walls clamping down on his cock in rhythmic pulses.
"Fuck, yes." Richard fucks me through it, prolonging the pleasure until I'm sobbing. "That's my girl. So perfect. So fucking perfect."
When I finally start to come down, boneless and shaking, he pulls out gently. I whimper at the loss, feeling empty, but then he's turning me around, pressing my face and chest against the wall, pulling my hips back.
"One more position," he murmurs against my ear. "Need to see your ass while I fuck you. Need to watch my cock disappear into your perfect pussy. Can you do that for me, baby?"
I nod frantically, beyond words, and feel him line up behind me. My face cheek is pressed against the cool tile, my breasts crushed against the wall, my ass pushed out and on display.
And Richard takes full advantage.
He sets a brutal pace. Hard, deep thrusts that make my whole body jolt forward with each impact.
His hands grip my hips, holding me in place, using me for his pleasure.
But it's not selfish, not like Nathan. Because even while he's chasing his own orgasm, Richard's hand sneaks around to find my clit.
"Look at this ass." His voice is strained, desperate. "Been dreaming about this for two years. Watching it in those dresses Nathan made you wear, imagining bending you over and fucking you just like this."
The confession makes me clench around him, and he groans.
"You like that?" Another hard thrust. "Like knowing I've been obsessed with you? That I've fucked my fist thinking about this tight pussy, this perfect ass?"
"Yes," I gasp. "God, yes. I've thought about you too. Every night. Wishing it was you instead of Nathan. Wishing you'd—oh fuck—wishing you'd claim me like this."
My breasts bounce with each thrust, rubbing against the wall in a way that's almost painful but somehow adds to the overwhelming sensation. I can hear how wet I am, can hear the sound of Richard's cock pounding into me, and it makes me even wetter.
"This ass." He punctuates each word with a thrust. "Is. Perfect."
Then his hand cracks against my ass cheek, a sharp slap that makes me cry out in surprise and pleasure.
"You like that?" Another slap, on the other cheek this time. "Like when I mark this beautiful ass?"
"Yes!" I'm practically screaming now. "Yes, Richard, please—"
He spanks me again, harder this time, and the sting mixes with pleasure in a way that makes my eyes roll back. Nathan never did this. Never touched me with this combination of roughness and reverence, never made me feel like my body was something to worship even while using it hard.
"So fucking beautiful." Richard's rhythm is getting erratic now, his control slipping. "Watching my cock slide into this wet pussy, watching your ass jiggle when I fuck you, seeing these marks I'm leaving. You're mine now, Belle. Mine. Say it."
"I'm yours," I gasp. "Only yours. Always yours."
"Fuck." He slaps my ass again, then grips both cheeks roughly, spreading me open so he can watch himself fuck me. "Going to come soon. Where do you want it? Inside you? On you? Tell me, baby."
"Inside." I don't hesitate. "Want to feel you come inside me. Want you to fill me up. Please, Richard. Please."
That's all it takes. Richard slams into me one more time, buried as deep as he can go, and I feel him pulse inside me. Feel the warm flood of his release, hear him groan my name like a prayer.
The sensation triggers another orgasm, smaller than the others but still intense, still enough to make me shake and whimper. We stay locked together, both trembling, both struggling to breathe.
When Richard finally pulls out, I feel his cum drip down my thigh, and something primal in me loves it. Loves being marked this way, claimed this way.
He turns me gently, pulling me against his chest, and I melt into him. My legs are shaking too badly to support my weight, but he holds me easily, one arm around my waist, the other stroking my hair.
"I loved…” I can't finish the sentence. Can't find words adequate to describe what just happened.
"This" His voice is rough, satisfied. "I really did."
We stand there for a long moment, just breathing, just being. Then Richard pulls back enough to look at me, "Belle." He cups my face with both hands. "I need you to understand something."
"Okay?"
"This wasn't just sex for me. This isn't just—" He stops, searching for words.
"I meant what I said. You're mine now. And I take care of what's mine.
That means protection, resources, anything you need.
But it also means I'm not sharing. I'm not letting anyone else have you.
Not Nathan, not anyone. You understand?"
I should probably be concerned about the possessiveness in his tone. Should recognize the warning signs, the controlling behavior. But this doesn't feel like Nathan's control. This feels like safety. Like someone finally giving a shit about me enough to claim me properly.
"I understand." I stretch up to kiss him. "And for the record? I don't want anyone else. Just you."
His arms tighten around me, pulling me close. "Good. Because I'm not good at sharing."
I laugh against his chest, exhausted and satisfied and happier than I've been in years. "Neither am I, apparently."
We stay like that for another moment before Richard sighs. "We should shower. Get you cleaned up properly. Then food… I can't remember if you ate this morning."
"I didn't." Now that he mentions it, I'm starving. "I was too nervous to eat, and then I was looking for you, and then..." I gesture vaguely at our naked bodies, at the evidence of what we just did.
"Then I fucked you senseless against a wall." He says it, and I blush. "Come on. There's a shower in here. We'll clean up, get you fed, and then we need to talk."
"About what?"
His expression grows serious. "About what comes next. About Nathan, and lawyers, and how we're going to handle this situation. Because he's going to come looking for you, Belle. And when he does, he's going to find you with me. We need to be prepared for that."
The mention of Nathan is like cold water on my post-orgasmic glow. Reality crashes back in: the fact that I ran from my wedding yesterday, that I'm currently naked with my ex-fiancé's father, that I've complicated an already impossible situation.
"Hey." Richard tilts my chin up. "Don't spiral. We'll figure it out. Together. But right now, let's just focus on getting clean and fed. The rest can wait a few more hours."
I nod, letting him lead me to the shower. Letting him wash me gently like I'm something precious. Letting myself believe, just for a little while, that everything might actually be okay.
That I might have finally found someone who sees me, wants me, will protect me from the monsters I left behind.
Even if that someone is exactly the wrong person in every conventional sense. But conventional hasn't done me any favors. Maybe it's time to try something different.
Maybe it's time to stop apologizing for wanting something good, even if that something is complicated and inappropriate and completely impossible to explain to anyone else.
Richard Kane is mine now.
And I'm never letting go.