Page 5 of Short on Rent

Chapter 4

Blake

Lora hisses and squeezes her gorgeous brown eyes shut, a tear rolling down onto the bedsheet, undoubtedly sore from the savage way I’ve taken her over and over again for the past week.

I kiss the back of her shoulder. “Are you crying because it hurts, sweet girl? Or because it feels too good?”

“Both.” She whimpers when I yank my hips back and thrust, then bites her bottom lip to muffle the next one.

I nip her neck. “Let it all out, baby. I’ll hold you through it.” And I will. Today. Tomorrow. Every day until I die.

I just can’t get enough of her. Her eyes, her supple breasts, the sexy roll of her lower belly, and her curvy hips that I love digging my fingers into whenever I take her from behind. Her puckered asshole, winking at me when her arms give out, begging for me to take her there one day. Her mind-blowing pussy, so swollen and red, yet suctioning me in, welcoming my cock, and convulsing around me to suck the cum that belongs to her out of my balls.

I hand-feed her in bed when she needs to eat to sustain her energy, and I’ve only allowed her up to use the restroom. Lora tried to kick me out the first few times I followed her in, but she eventually gave up. Now, whenever she needs to go, she simply slumps back on the toilet with her knees open, grateful for the short reprieve I give her while I kneel and jack my cock, watching her do her business as my cum drips out of her battered pussy.

Afterward, I carry her into the shower to lovingly clean her body and wash her hair while she sags against me. I use the heat and pressure from the shower head and the lavender-scented massage oil I purchased months ago with her in mind to work out every stiff muscle, then take her back to our bedroom to fill her all over again.

We’ve both missed a week of work. Since I own the web design business I started my junior year of college nearly ten years ago, I get to decide how many clients I personally take on or which to delegate to one of my five employees. Sending a simple text to John, my senior-most employee, was all I needed to do to clear my schedule until Lora gets pregnant.

It took hardly any negotiating on my part with Lora’s boss, Mark, to convince him not to fire her after she was a no-call no-show the Monday after I took her virginity. He and I came to an agreement when I offered to redesign his website for free, hopefully drawing more customers to the failing restaurant he financed with his daddy’s money.

Not that Lora still needs her job—not when she has me to take care of her for the rest of her life.

Lora’s whimpers turn to moans when I flip her onto her back and hike her legs over my shoulders. She’s still wet from her two orgasms this morning, combined with my cum painted across her inner walls, so much so that I’m able to slip smoothly inside, despite her pain. It hurts me to see her hurting.

I trace her dark brows with my fingertips, willing them to relax so she’ll give me her eyes again. I hold myself still, buried to the hilt, not allowing myself to fuck in and out of her like I want to—need to—until she opens them. I kiss her temple, licking her tear tracks away.

“Open your eyes for me, pretty girl,” I say softly. She sucks in a choppy breath and slides her hand around my middle, but she still won’t look at me. “Please, baby. You know I need to see your eyes.”

After what feels like an eternity, they flutter open. My baby blinks at me questioningly, and my heart squeezes in my chest with the strength of our connection. I’ve never seen brown eyes quite like hers, like coffee drizzled with caramel. I can see right into her beautiful soul, and she into mine.

My skin tingles under her fingertips that caress my sweat-dampened back. Her hands on me, finally, after all these torturous months of living together, feel as divine as being buried inside her slick pussy. I study her reaction as I begin gently rocking in and out of her, slowing when she inhales sharply, but I don’t stop. I don’t think I could, even if she begged me to. The primal need to touch her, to claim her, to fill her until her belly is round with our child refuses to be beaten back any longer. There’s simply no going back after this.

When her brows fully relax, and a throaty moan slips out with her next breath, I thrust in and out a little faster. Paradise. This is what paradise feels like.

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing such an amazing job letting your man make love to you. It feels incredible to finally be together, doesn’t it? I know you feel it, too.”

“My man? Love?” Lora’s voice is hoarse after screaming and moaning all week. “You don’t love—”

“Shh. Don’t fight it, sweet girl. Just feel it. Feel how your pussy opens up for me. Your body was perfectly made to take your man inside you.” I press a kiss to her lips before she can try denying reality again, inhaling her fertile, feminine scent deep into my lungs as I stare into her soulful eyes that suddenly widen with alarm.

I steal another kiss and lower myself to press her knees closer to her shoulders, changing the angle. She cries out, then moans when the head of my cock hits the back of her channel. Her pussy grows impossibly wetter, the alarmed expression fading from her face after another two thrusts.

“No one’s ever loved me,” she says quietly.

“Can I tell you a secret, Lora?” My heart pounds with exhilaration now that I no longer have to force myself to keep my emotions bottled up. “I have been in love with you since I first laid eyes on you.” I groan as I draw my cock out and drive back in, the headboard banging against the wall.

“You love me? But…we just met five months ago and hardly ever see each other. You don’t know me. You can’t be in love with me.”

I shake my head. “It’s been longer than that.”

Her breath catches. “No, it hasn’t. We met five months ago when I responded to your ad.”

“No, we met before then. I know you don’t remember me, but I remember you. I remember everything about you. How the hem of your plain red t-shirt lifted, exposing the gorgeous strip of skin above the waistband of your jean shorts when you pulled your hair up into a ponytail. How your foot wouldn’t stop shaking, even though your flip flop kept falling off after you crossed your legs while talking to your social worker. How you swiped your hands with the chipped blue nail polish across your puffy cheeks as you cried, then crossed your arms when you looked away—right at me. It was like being shot with an arrow straight through my heart.”

“You…when was this?”

I pull her legs off my shoulders so I can lower myself fully on top of her and cradle her face in my hands. I note with deep satisfaction that she hikes her knees up around my ribs instead of letting them fall to the side.

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