Page 30 of Oblivion

Not needing to try and break into the house Sammy is living in, I boldly cross the street and open the door with the key I had cut. Eloise, Sammy’s new housemate, is a very busy and very distracted first-year medical school student, and it was almost too easy to slip her house key from her bag and make a copy before returning it just as easily.

The neighborhood we’re now living in is quiet and full of families and young couples. There are no rowdy college students still partying or studying in the middle of the night. In fact, apart from the house I’m using, the rest of the street is dark and quiet.

The moment I found out that Sammy would be living with Drew’s cousin, I arranged for Eloise to be offered a role interning in a sleep study program she’s shown interest in. The program will keep her out of the house on the days she’s not already busy with school and studying.

Which is why I already know that Sammy is home alone, even though it’s her first night in Cambridge. If she were mine, there’s no way she’d be sleeping alone, but Drew never even suggested he stay the night, despite having no plans and currently sleeping alone in his apartment on the other side of campus.

Drew is almost too good at being good. Because what guy wouldn’t want to share a bed with his fiancée if she looked like Sammy?

Stepping into the house, I close the door behind me and slip off my shoes, taking my time as I explore. Its layout is identical to the house I’ll be using for the next month—or however long it takes to remove Drew from my wild one’s life. There’s a small living room, an eat-in kitchen with a table, three good-sized bedrooms, two of which are being used by Eloise and Sammy, and a third room that’s set up as a guest bedroom for when family comes to visit.

Not bothering to hide my arrival, I push open Sammy’s door and step into her room. Just like I planned, she’s in bed but still wearing the clothes she was in when she came across the street earlier.

Borrowing a move from both Clay and Bastian, before I invited her over, I laced her drink with a mild sedative, then baited her into a conversation until she finished the whole bottle without even realizing she was drinking it. I figured she wouldn’t feel the full effects for a few minutes, and apparently it was just long enough for her to get upstairs and into bed, even if she didn’t have a chance to get undressed.

According to Bastian, the sedative won’t start to wear off for a few hours, which gives me plenty of time to do what I need to do. Being here is a bold move, but I don’t care. I’ve seen enough in the last week to be confident that Sammy isn’t really in love with Drew, and Drew doesn’t really care about Sammy. He simply wants someone like Sammy who is content to stand by his side and do whatever it takes to impress the voters.

Until tonight, despite how Sammy might feel when she finds out all I’ve done, I’ve restrained myself. I’ve been holding back. But that stops now. Any tethers I’d placed on myself have beenremoved, and it’s time to show my wild one just how easily I’ll be the one to tame her.

Closing the door to her room, I slide the lock into place, even though I know Eloise won’t be home for at least twenty-four hours. Shucking my backpack from my shoulders, I place it carefully on the floor, then cross to the bed and start to remove Sammy’s clothing, one piece at a time.

Starting with the skirt I brought for her, I slip it over her hips, then drag it down her thighs until it’s free of her legs completely. Folding it carefully, I place it on her desk chair and return to her. Pulling the soft cashmere sweater she’s wearing up, I slowly reveal her perfect breasts wrapped in delicate cream lace. Freeing her of the sweater, I fold it and place it on top of the skirt.

Curling my fingers into the waist of her nude tights I peel them down her thighs, swallowing a groan when she’s finally bared except for cream lace. This would be perfect if she were wearing underwear I’d brought for her, and that carried my name on it somewhere, but unfortunately, she isn’t. Soon, I’ll replace everything she owns with something I’ve had made just for her, and I’ll never have to imagine how she looks without me branded all over her ever again.

Adding the hose to the pile, I pause for a moment and take in her angelic appearance. Asleep is the only time her wild spirit is truly settled, and it calms me to see her this way. I love her awake and feisty, but I know I’ll enjoy the peace of watching her sleep too, especially if it’s because I’ve fucked her into unconsciousness.

Pulling out my cell, I take a couple of pictures before I slip my hands beneath her and unfasten her bra. I don’t bother trying to hide my desperate moan as I pull the lace from her body and reveal full creamy tits with peaked dark pink nipples that are begging to be branded with my teeth.

My fingers grip the lace in my hands so tightly I hear the fabric rip, but I don’t care because I’d planned to take the underwear with me anyway. Inhaling sharply, to stop myself from climbing over her and tasting her perfect skin. I wait until I’m calm before I dip my fingers beneath the top of her panties and slowly—so slowly—pull them down inch by inch until her wet little cunt is finally revealed to me.

I’m not sure why I was expecting to see a thin thatch of dark hair, but instead her pretty pussy is bare and smooth, her arousal just visible between her folds. My dick twitches, and I feel a surge of precum pulse from the tip. Want and need make my vision dim at the edges, but no matter how strongly I crave her, I won’t take her like this. The first time I push into her body, I want her wild eyes staring back at me. I want her to watch me take her and know it’s because she’s mine, and anything else isn’t an option.

Before Sammy, I wouldn’t have said I had a particular kink that I desired from a partner, but now I know exactly what I want. I want to own her, and not in a metaphorical way. I want to physically own her. I want to put my name on every inch of her skin. I want to marry her. I want to lock her in a cage of my love and throw away the key so neither of us will ever be free again. But more than that, I want to fill her with my cum and put a baby in her.

Kids have never been on my radar before. I’ve always known I’d be expected to procreate and provide a Morris heir to continue the family line, but beyond the expectation, I had no particular feelings about babies.

Until now.

Now, I don’t just want to have a kid with Sammy. I want to breed her. I want to fuck her day in and day out, filling her with my cum until she’s so full of me, her body will be forced to make a baby or drown in all of my seed. I don’t care if she wants a baby.I don’t care if she’s willing. I’m going to make her mine, and then I’m going to put my kid in her. She can fight and cry and moan, but I don’t care.

Gripping my dick with one hand, I squeeze, using the pain to fight the urge to just take her right now. When the urge passes enough that I know I have control, I exhale, let go of my cock, and let my hands fall to my sides, flexing and relaxing my fingers until I’m calm enough to do what I came here to do.

Grabbing my backpack, I sit down on the edge of the bed, eyeing her beautiful body and imagining all the depraved ways I could defile it. Reaching for her hand, I stare at the engagement ring on her finger disdainfully. Slipping it free, I push it into my pocket, then lift her hand to my lips and press a kiss against the now empty space.

Reaching inside my bag, I pull out a small wireless tattoo gun and the other supplies I brought with me and lay them out carefully on her bedside table. Pulling on sterile gloves, I wipe her finger over with an alcohol swab, then apply a little glue and the stencil I drew up earlier.

This isn’t my first time using a tattoo gun. I’ve always enjoyed drawing, and a few years ago, I started learning how to tattoo. It’s not something I’ll have the luxury of making a career of, but it’s a fun hobby that I enjoy, and Hunter, Sebastian, and Clay all have tattoos I’ve done on their bodies.

Carefully peeling back the stencil, something in my chest settles when I see my monogram on her ring finger. It’s tiny, and once she’s wearing my ring, you’ll barely be able to see it, but I’ll know it’s there.

Filling up a tiny pot with black ink, I open a needle from a sterile packet and fit it into the gun, testing the speed before I dip it into the ink and start to trace over the tiny letters. It barely takes ten minutes to finish the tattoo, and once I’m done,I remove the needle from the gun and clean up her skin before applying a healing salve.

Marking her body without her consent while she’s unconscious because I drugged her, is crossing a thousand lines and committing a few felonies, but I don’t care. She’s mine, and I just branded that claim right onto her skin.

Once everything is cleaned up, I reluctantly drag my shirt up and over my head, pulling it onto her and feeding her arms through the sleeves. The sun is starting to rise, and as I check my cell, I realize that it’s almost six a.m.

Smoothing her hair away from her face, I press a soft kiss to her forehead before I pull the comforter over her, then grab the spare shirt from my backpack and head downstairs to open the front door. Dr. Harris is just exiting the town car I arranged to collect him from the airport when I step outside.

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