His to Have (A Claimed Story Book 2) (2 page)

E
rika steps from the elevator
, still wearing the dress from the set. It’s a different one than the one she wore at five-thirty and six. I know, because I caught most of the eleven o’clock news live on my phone’s app.

She’s absolutely gorgeous in the blue v-neck dress and on her feet are high-top tennis shoes as she scans the garage. The hint of panic as she searches for her car adds to my excitement. I want her on edge. I plan to keep her that way, begging for mercy that only I can give.

I narrow my eyes and feel the vein in my neck pulsate. Other than her purse, she’s not carrying anything else. Where the hell are the red heels? She had to see my note.

The offenses continued to mount.

I straighten my neck. Erika Ellis has a way to go in learning to be obedient. My cock twitches with my plans to teach her.

First, she agreed to work the eleven o’clock news, and I almost lost it. All my plans, the ones I’d worked diligently to get into place...they were supposed to start earlier, but I told myself it was OK. I could adapt. Five hours wouldn’t matter, not when we had the rest of our lives together.

When I was in Erika’s office, I’d taken her keys and moved her car. I took it back to her apartment while she was still at the station and parked it on the street without anyone noticing. I’d considered just abducting her from the garage, but if I had, her car would have been left here all weekend. That could have raised questions.

The last thing I want is any of her co-workers calling and interrupting our plans. This weekend is about us.

As Erika reaches for her phone, I pull up beside her and lower my window. “
Ms. Ellis
, is there a problem?”

Her blue eyes open wide at the sound of my voice. I grimace at the fact that they’re still covered with too much makeup. One of the first things I’ll do is clean her face. If I can wait to fuck her, that is.

“I-I,” she stammers, so different from the confident newscaster. “I would have sworn I parked my car right here.” She motions to the row of empty parking spaces. “Have you seen it?”

I hit the unlock button, lean over, and open the passenger door to my truck. “Climb on in. It’s too late to be wandering around the garage. You never know who may be out and about.”

She looks again at her phone, like she wants to make a call, but then stuffs it back into her purse. “Thank you.”

My cock jerks at the sound of relief in her voice. I plan on being the only one to give her relief, not only this weekend, but for the rest of our lives.

“You could drive me around the garage.” she suggests. “I might have the floor wrong. I don’t know. I think I’m tired.”

I tilt my head toward her. “Fasten that seatbelt. We don’t want you getting hurt.”

She peers at me from the corner of her eyes as she does as I say. In the small cab, I smell her uncertainty—her fear—and it fucking turns me on. I don’t speak as I maneuver the truck around each curve, down the garage floors to the exit, swipe my badge, and drive us onto the street.

“Y-you didn’t look for my car,” Erika says as she reaches for the door handle.

I hit the gas. The city streets are virtually empty. I blow through one, two, and then three red lights.

“What are you doing?”

I don’t answer, gripping the steering wheel tighter with each mile. Some lights cooperate, but as we speed through town they’re getting farther and farther apart.

“Please,” Erika begs, “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I want to go home. The apartment isn’t in this direction.”

Just like the streetlights and population, her questions space farther apart as I continue to silently drive out into the country and beyond the city limits. As the night sky deepens in blackness and fills with stars, I turn to her. My Erika’s body is pressed against the door as far from me as she can get. Though she hasn’t had the nerve to open it, she’s perched and ready. How could she open it? I haven’t slowed, much less stopped, to give her the opportunity.

“Where are the red shoes?” I finally ask.

She blinks, the light from my dashboard our only illumination. “I-I left them at the station.”

“Did you see my note?”

“I didn’t know it was from you.”

My palm strikes the steering wheel causing her to jump, doing her best to move closer to the door. “Who the fuck did you think it was from?”

“I-I didn’t know.”

“Just how many men leave you notes telling you what to wear?”

“I didn’t know it was from a man.”

I turn her way, smelling not only her fear but also her desire. The sweet scent of her pussy has me ready to take her in this truck and not wait for the cabin.

Erika’s head moves from side to side as she makes one more attempt to move closer to the door. “Please, this isn’t like you, Victor. What’s going on?”

It’s the first time in what seems like ages that I’ve heard my name from her lips. “So, I’m not
Mr. Cross
?” It’s what she calls me at the station.

“You are. That’s your name.”

“And yours is Erika
Ellis
?”

“Victor, I don’t—“

I cut her off. “Sir.”

Her shoulders straighten. “What?”

“No names this weekend. You may address me as Sir.”

“I-I what? I will not—“

We are now out of the city and smack dab in the middle of nowhere. Buildings and even houses are a thing of the past. Soybean and cornfields cover the countryside. Thin rows of trees line the open fields next to grassy ravines that meet the small gravel shoulder. One wrong move during a dark night drive and the truck could end up in a five-foot-deep gulch. Thinking only about the woman in my truck, I stomp on the brake and pull the truck to the shoulder. The tires squeal and the undercarriage pings as rocks and gravel fly. Faster than Erika can process, I throw the truck into park, unbuckle my seatbelt, and slide next to her, pinning her between me and the door.

“Don’t even think about opening that door,” I warn. “There’s a five-foot drop out your door and if you fall in, I’ll follow your fine ass and take you in the mud.”

She swallows, her frightened eyes staying fixed on mine.

With one hand in her hair at the nape of her neck and the other possessively splayed over her upper thigh, I pull her toward me. Between the door and her seatbelt, she’s trapped.

“Sir,” I repeat. “Your only other option is
Master
.”

A tear teeters on her lower lid until she blinks and it dangles from her over-thick lash. “Vic—“

I pull her lips to mine. Though she tries to push me away, I’m too big, too strong, too determined. With her finally in my arms, I take what’s mine, crashing my mouth over hers. Without hesitation, my tongue plunges into her warm, sweet haven, searching and probing. Her tiny fists push against my chest, as it crushes her boobs. The thump of her heartbeat drums below mine. Her fear and arousal fills the air, a sweet, intoxicating aroma that instantly turns my cock to steel.

My fingers wind into her brown hair, unashamedly pulling her head back as I continue to capture her lips. Kiss by kiss, her pleas soften. The more I probe, unrelentingly bruising her lips, the more her muscles relax and her body melts against mine.

I pull back, keeping our eyes locked, and reach for her hand. Erika tries to hold it back, but I’m not in the mood for negotiation. Taking her hand, I push her palm against the front of my jeans, rubbing it over my throbbing erection. “Feel what you do to me?”

When she doesn’t answer, I pull her hair again, wrenching her neck backward, causing a gasp to fall from her lips. “Do you feel that?” I ask again.

“Y-yes,” she whimpers.

My lips curl upward. “Yes, what?”

“Yes,
Sir
.”

O
h
, dear Lord, this can’t be happening.

I close my eyes, hoping to block everything out, but I can’t. Victor continues to rub my hand over his erection—over his large, hard, angry cock. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s not the cameraman who watches me. He’s possessed.

“Say it again,” he demands.

“Yes, Sir.” My voice isn’t my own. It’s weaker and submissive.

I’ve never been submissive in my life.

Victor releases my hand and moves his under the hem of my skirt. Every nerve in my body is on fire. I feel parts of my body I never knew existed. The tiredness from the station is gone, replaced with adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream at record speed. The higher his fingers move, the more I’m electrified.

I shudder at his forwardness. He’s touching me, and I’m exposed. Why didn’t I change before I left the station? In jeans, he couldn’t touch me. In jeans I’d be safe.

But would I?

I gasp as he brushes the crotch of my panties.

“Kitten, you’re soaked.”

Kitten?

“You’re soaking wet,” he repeats. “You want me to put this hard cock in your pussy in that dirty ditch, don’t you?”

“No!” I say, trying to close my legs and stop his invasion.

He’s too strong. His finger curls under the cotton crotch and teases my clit sending shockwaves crashing through me. One finger and then two find their way to my hole. I try not to moan, but my body is clenching his fingers, holding on tight.

“P-please,” I plead. “Please don’t do this.”

“You want it. You want it bad.”

“No, I don’t.”

My head jerks back as he pulls my hair again, this time causing tears to trail down my cheeks.

Victor sticks out his tongue and licks my face, from my chin to my eye. I move to back away, but I can’t. He does it again, his spearmint-scented breath in my nose as his saliva covers my cheek. All the while his fingers continue to assault me, to plunge in and out of me.

“Cry, kitten,” he says. “I’ll drink every tear, each drop makes me harder. Each one is another thrust in your pussy, because you’re going to relieve this ache in my cock. I’m going to take you. Look at how you’re rocking your hips to my touch. You want this. You want me. You’re mine.” He sits straighter, looking directly in my eyes. “You know that, don’t you?”

I’m not sure what I know, embarrassed that my body is reacting—no, appalled. This is wrong, and yet I am moving with his fingers, wanting him to touch my clit, needing for more than what he’s giving me.

Another long lick of my face and I fight to not flinch. “Tell me,” he demands.

“Tell you what?”

My head snaps back again, my scalp screaming from the repeated attack.

“Don’t make me punish you,” Victor warns. “Hurting you is only my goal to bring you pleasure, but I will, kitten, I’ll make you cry. I’ll make you scream. Follow my rules and this will go much better.”

His rules?

His fingers leave my cunt. But before I can think about it, cool night air and the truck’s AC reaches my chest as he rips the front of my dress, pulling it apart at the seams. He hisses at my the sight of my breasts, pushing up out of my lace bra. Without removing it, he pushes the lace cups down, exposing them.

“Look at your nipples,” he teases. “They’re hard. You’re turned on. Now tell me what I want to hear. Tell me who you belong to.”

“M-my husband,” I manage to say.

He pinches one nipple and I shriek at the jolt of pain. “Try again, and don’t forget to say Sir.”

“I do, Sir. I belong to him. I’m married.”

“Does your husband know that? Have you told him? Does he make you wet?” Victor sucks on the finger that was only moments ago in my pussy. “Does he make you this wet?”

I can’t process all of his questions. My husband can make me wet. He has. I nod.

“Then why did you choose to keep him waiting? If you want him, you wouldn’t work an extra broadcast, would you?”

“I-I...it wasn’t about him.”

He tweaks my nipples, pinching them roughly with his fingers. “Oh, kitten, it should be, but since it’s not, you’ve got me. I’m going to teach you how to treat a man.”

“Please...” It’s all I can think to say.

Victor leans back. “Take off your underwear.”

“What?”

His rough fingers pinch my cheeks, crushing my mouth until the taste of copper lets me know it’s bleeding. “Sir,” he says. “Don’t make me say it again.”

I nod. When he releases my face, I say, “Yes, Sir.”

He sits back again, never taking his eyes from me while I shimmy out of my panties. It’s not an easy process in a dress and with the seatbelt.

“Give them to me.”

My pulse races as I hand him the light pink panties that match the bra still under my breasts. Victor takes my panties to his nose, closes his eyes, and inhales. He sighs. “I love your smell. I knew I would. But I never knew that you’d be so fucking wet.” And then his dark eyes are back on me. “If you forget to say
Sir
one more time, these are going in your mouth. Do you understand?”

I shiver. “Yes, Sir.”

His lips curl into a cruel smile. “That’s my pet. Before we’re done, you’re going to not only know who you belong to, but you’ll say it too.”

I don’t answer as he scoots back to the driver’s seat and fastens his seatbelt.

When we’re done? That’s what he said. Will he let me go? Will I get back to the man I married, the kind man who would never do this to me?

As I reach for my bra, Victor stops me. “Don’t cover yourself. I want to look at you, at your hard nipples. I want to know that all I need to do is reach out to get your attention.” He reaches over and rolls one nipple in between his thumb and finger, eliciting a moan. “I plan to keep you naked all weekend.”

Silence falls over the truck as I try to comprehend what is happening. But I can’t. It’s more than I can process.

“When we get there,” he continues, interrupting my thoughts. “The first thing I’m going to do is fuck that smart mouth of yours. You like telling people what to do, don’t you?”

Still holding my panties, he puts the truck in drive, and we ease onto the road. There isn’t a soul around. Not one car has passed his truck since he pulled over.

“You think that because you’re on people’s TVs,” he continues, “that you’re better than everyone else, don’t you.”

“No, Sir.”

Victor snaps his eyes in my direction and then back to the road. “Don’t lie, kitten. I’ll punish you for lying—every time. Don’t forget that. Consider this your one and only warning. I’ve seen you. I’ve watched you. You think you’re special.” He lifts my panties and inhales again. “You’re right.”

“I am?”

“You’re special to me. Only to me. You’re
my
slut,
my
whore, and the love of my life. We’ll be together forever.”

I shudder at his words.

“I’m going to make you mine in every way.”

It’s wrong that my thighs are getting slicker with his nasty words. My husband would never talk like that. Compliments and endearments—that’s what he’s always spoken. It’s what every normal woman would want, yet Victor’s cruel words are twisting my insides and drenching my pussy.

“I’m going to not only fuck your mouth, but all of you—all of your holes will be mine.”

My eyes grow wide. “No. I can’t. I’ve never.”

Victor grins. “You will, you are. Say ‘
yes, Sir’
. Tell me I can fuck your ass.”