Page 1 of Captive Bride

Tristan

Rosaline’s satin black hair falls in waves over her shoulders. Her satin red dress is set against her dark, tanned skin making my cock even harder.

Her lips wrap around my cock, and she’s sucking like there’s no tomorrow.

I may not be in love with this girl, but I feel responsible for her.

She fell in love with a Montague and was banished for life to our side. Then, the guy ditched her, and she’s been on my mind ever since.

I have a soft spot for women who are in trouble.

And that’s all Rosaline is...trouble. She has a pretty serious drug problem, and she’s always trying to escape reality. But in these moments when she’s sucking my cock or when I’m fucking her in the back office of the club, I can tell she comes alive.

I’m like her damn lifeline, keeping her afloat in this cold, harsh world.

Maybe I like her because she’s similar to me. She’s been hardened by a life of drugs and abandonment.

I’ve become a cold, hard killer—because that’s what being a Montague means.

“Yes, baby—fuck. I’m getting so close to spraying my cum all over your mouth and face. Do you want to drink my cum, slut?”

She moans in recognition. She loves this.

She slides her tongue along my cock, and I close my eyes as I sink into her ever deeper.

She takes it like a pro, she always does. I already made her come, twice over my desk.

It doesn’t take much because she’s always antsy for me, on high alert. I pay for everything and make sure she’s well taken care of. I know she needs help, the poor girl.

Now that I know it’s my turn, now that she’s had her fill, I fuck her mouth harder and faster. The idea of her drinking down my hot cum is enough to put me right over the edge.

I grab her hair and pull her in closer to me.

“Fuuuuck, Rosaline,” I say through gritted teeth as I come hard. “You’re so fucking good at that.”

She drinks down all of my cum, not wanting to waste a drop.

Then, she peers up at me with wild eyes and says, “Thank you, Tristan.”

I help her up just as Merc and Benny are walking in.

They’re my cousins. They’re used to seeing me get this kind of handling from Rosaline.

“I see you’re getting the royal fucking treatment,” Merc says.

“Indeed I am,” I say zipping up.

Then I slip some money into Rosaline’s bra.

Not because she’s a whore but because I want to. It makes me feel good to give her money and to let her know that she’s okay. Despite all of her problems, I’m here for her.

“Thanks, baby. You take such good care of me, Tristan. Hey, do you want to bump of cocaine? I know a guy in the club.”

I shake my head no. My answer is always no to this question. Like I said, she’s pretty messed up—but that’s her own burden to bear.

All I can do is be a support system for her. She deserves at least fucking that.

“You guys interested?” she says to Merc and Benny.

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