Page 15 of The Stowaway

I thought I'd won for a moment until I realised he meant he wouldn't be near my ribs or me, period.

I slumped onto his chest with a dejected sigh and wondered how long he would make me wait.

“It will only be a few weeks. I want your first time to be memorable, not thinking about what those bastards did to you.”

I put my fingers on his cheek and spread them across his beard, feeling the coarse hair.

“Thank you for not pushing me too hard. I want to forget it all like it was a bad dream.”

“I never want to see you scared like that again, Kitten,” he said, pulling me closer until he was cradling me with his hand going up my thigh towards my ass.

I remembered his little towel show and smiled.

Two could play that game.

∞∞∞

A week later, I was still not ‘devirginalised’. I wore the skimpy underwear, stripped off in bed, and groped his dick in the shower or bed. He always made me cum using his mouth or his fingers, but I needed more. This morning I’d tried to sit on his dick, but he simply laughed at me and put me on my back to eat me out.

I stroked Misha’s head and sighed heavily. The man’s will was ironclad.

“Why do you look so down, Kitten?”

“Because you won't give me any dick,” I said grumpily.

He covered his mouth with his hand, and I glared at him.

“Misha, attack,” I said, pointing to Ivan.

His pointy ears stood up, and he looked at Ivan before putting his head back on my lap.

“If you were a girl, you would have done it for me, Misha,” I said to the traitor while stroking his head before rubbing beneath his ears and jaw.

Ivan chuckled before leaning over to pet Misha.

“I've asked the doctor to come and check your injuries. If he says it's okay, then I will consider it.”

My head snapped up. “Really?”

He smiled before gripping my neck and kissing me.

“You wore me down, but be prepared for the consequences.”

“I’m glad Misha didn't attack you now,” I murmured.

In truth, waiting to be with him had given me the opportunity to get to know him. How he treated his staff, and how he talked to and about his family. He loved Misha, and I joined him in the gardens during his walking sessions. When he told me he was a jeweller, it had taken me by surprise. A big hot shot in the city perhaps, but not someone who dealt in jewellery.

“Misha knows better. I've had him since he was a pup. I trained him myself.”

“What age is he?”

“Almost four years old.”

I kissed Misha’s head, and he began to lick my face. I pulled back laughing as he always got carried away.

“You make me jealous of my own dog,” Ivan said, frowning at Misha.

“I love him,” I said, petting Misha again. “I’ve always loved animals, but I was never allowed to keep a pet.”

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