Chapter 6

ChapterSix

Blessing

I stareat my reflection in the mirror, barely able to catch my breath. I’m not sure I’ve caught it once since yesterday when I agreed to become Edison’s wife. Now I’m in his posh mansion, in a room with a roaring fireplace, looking at myself in a wedding gown. Edison lives in a world where he pays people to move quickly and precisely as he wants them to, so he was able to find me a wedding gown overnight—and I must admit it’s beautiful.

Even if it is a little daring for my taste.

The bodice is sheer with long sleeves and is dotted with jeweled snowflakes. The back is open all the way to my hips and in front, my breasts have been plumped up into the sweetheart neckline and dusted in sparkles. The tailor was only able to perform cursory alterations and we couldn’t find proper shoes on short notice, so the hem is slightly long and my bare toes peek out from underneath the satin.

Am I really doing this?

Marrying a man I barely know at the age of eighteen?

Oh yes, I am. There was no way I could turn down his offer.

It’s a dream come true, knowing the orphans will be cared for. That they’ll be able to pay for clothes and opportunities such as travel sports teams or college. I would never deny them that. I would do a lot more than marry a stranger to secure their future.

Is Edison really a stranger, though?

I watch in the mirror as my face flushes pink, the memory of what he did to me in the attic flooding my mind. He put his tongue there. He kissed and nibbled and sucked my most secret place and the result…well, I can’t stop thinking about it.

I can’t stop wanting more.

I’ve got a monster in between my legs for you, Blessing.

My thighs clench together and I grow momentarily dizzy. Words such as those shouldn’t make me feel anxious and unfulfilled, should they? But there is something about the knowledge that Edison, a gentleman, has a secret part of himself, too, that excites me. And it excites me even more knowing it’s an untamed part that he can’t seem to control. It grows and pulses and tests the limits of his pants when we’re close to each other.

There’s an undiscovered hunger inside of me that wants to satisfy his…cock.

It’s called a cock.

Such a raw, filthy word.

He wants to put it in my mouth and in between my breasts. The memory of him informing me of what he wants—needs—starts a wonderfully heavy pulse between my thighs. So I must have feelings for Edison. Those feelings certainly include lust. That doesn’t account for the jealousy I experienced finding out how close he could have come to marrying someone else.

I wouldn’t have liked that.

Not one bit.

I’m pouting over the recurring thought when there’s a knock on the door.

“Angel, it’s time,” comes Edison’s deep voice through the heavy wood.

My heartrate kicks into overtime, but I take a deep inhale and order my nerves to stop racing in circles. “I-I’m ready. Come in.”

Edison sweeps into the room, looking impatient in a suit, but he stops in his tracks when he sees me, nearly causing the preacher and Ben to collide with him from behind. I’m still facing the mirror, so Edison can see my back and the reflection of my front.

And I can see his face.

The way his eyes darken, the swell of his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

As soon as his initial shock wears off, he begins coming toward me slowly, one step at a time. It’s no wonder he’s shocked. I’ve been bathed and exfoliated; my hair has been primped and curled. I’m wearing makeup for the first time in my life.

“Oh my God,” he breathes when he reaches me, his hands sliding over my hips from behind. “Your beauty defies description, Blessing. I’m a lucky son of a bitch.”

He carefully brushes aside the curtain of my hair and drops his open mouth to the nape of my neck, dragging it along my shoulders, kissing me as he goes.

“It was my intention to marry you downstairs in the parlor, but that’s no longer an option. We will exchange vows as close to the bed as possible.” He eliminates the final inch between our lower bodies and lets me feel his rigidness against my backside, his hands tightening almost painfully on my hips. “I’m desperate for you, Blessing. Fucking desperate. As soon as you’re pronounced my wife, I’ll be mounting you.”

I’ve never had so little control over my body before. My neck muscles give way, my head falling back on a gasp. A rush of wet heat arrows toward the juncture of my thighs. There’s a relentless tingle in my nipples. I should take offense to the phrase I’ll be mounting you, but it only makes me feel funny. Hot and achy.

“I don’t understand the way you make me feel,” I whisper, letting my head rest back on his shoulder. “I have no experience, but…”

“Tell me,” Edison demands into my neck.

“When I imagine us together in bed, you’re…you’re being so harsh with me. You pull my hair and c-call me vile names, swat my bottom and move so roughly on top of me.” I duck my head shyly. “I don’t know where these ideas are coming from.”

As I’ve been explaining myself, his breathing has turned remarkably shallow, his chest expanding and hollowing on rasping pulls of oxygen. “Christ. When I called myself a lucky son of a bitch, that was an understatement.” Our gazes lock in the mirror, his tongue tracing the lobe of my ear. “You were aptly named, Blessing. That’s what you are.” His magical mouth trails down the slope of my neck and back up to speak in a low voice into my hair. “You’re an angel outside of bed. A goddamn saint. My princess to spoil beyond her wildest imagination. But when you’re beneath me, you want to be fucked like a horny little whore. Is that right?”

“Oh my,” I whimper, my sex clenching painfully. “Yes, I…think…I think so.”

I can barely keep my balance. My knees turn to jelly and Edison wraps an arm around my hips to hold me up, his hips pressing to my bottom indecently. Humping me onto my toes and groaning into my neck. “Sweet hell, I won’t make it through these vows.”

“Are we ready to begin?” says the preacher, his voice tugging at my subconscious. My gaze flies to his reflection in the mirror and he appears to be sweating, tugging at his collar with one finger. I’ve seen him before. Many times. He is constantly shooing the children away from the church steps, ordering them to go beg somewhere else. Or claiming they’ll dirty the steps, simply by sitting on them.

This man only pretends to be righteous and holy.

I don’t want to pretend like him. I want to be exactly as I am.

I’m not sure where the dark impulse comes from, but suddenly I want to scandalize this man, because it’s how I feel in the wake of hearing the words horny little whore. I feel powerful and exhilarated and awake. Maybe I’ll make him even more uncomfortable than he is now. As uncomfortable as he’s made me and my charges feel in the past.

I turn in Edison’s embrace, push up on my toes, raking every inch of my body up his powerful torso and I settle our mouths together. “Is it bad luck to kiss before a wedding?”

Edison is a smart man, so he recognizes the change in me. His eyes narrow, even as he hauls me higher against his body, leaving my toes inches above the floor. “Why are you tempting me when I’m already on the edge?”

“I like you on the edge,” I murmur back, telling the truth. Feeling compelled. “I like it.” I brush my lips across Edison’s. “I want to taste it.”

Goodness, I practically feel the arousal overcome him. Feel his control desert him.

His nostrils flare, eyes nearly pitch black, then he captures my mouth on a strangled moan. Starbursts plume on the backs of my eyelids as the luscious taste of him whips through me, causing my tummy to flip-flop. Each time he takes my lips in a hot slant of wetness, his tongue touches mine briefly. Too briefly. Until I’m whining for it, clutching at his collar and begging wordlessly for him to lick the inside of my mouth. Finally, his tongue slides fully between my lips and he claims me, unquestionably. He kisses me until I’m without breath, my brain fuzzy and heart hammering.

When he breaks away to let me breath, he looks me in the eye and begins winding the skirt of my wedding dress around his fists. “Preacher,” he growls, backing me toward the bed. “Start the ceremony now.”

* * *

Edison

I’m not sure what’s gotten into Blessing, and Jesus, I’ll have to find out later.

My cock is so stiff and swollen in my pants, there’s a chance I could be done in one thrust. For one, she’s a fucking bombshell in this dress. She was already incredibly beautiful. I had no idea how I was going to get any work done with her living in my house. But in a push-up bra, dusted in glitter and confessing her naughty secrets to me? I’m out of control.

I’m so horny and turned on that I’m barely aware of the two other men in the room.

I can only flatten my little bride on the bed and attack her pouty fucking mouth, groaning over the enthusiastic way she responds to me. Whimpering and opening her thighs for my hips to settle in between them. We’re making out. I’m making out with my fiancée during the wedding ceremony, our mouths insatiable. Starving for more.

Vaguely, I hear the preacher speeding through the opening section of the wedding ceremony. Words about God and man and duty—and yes, I crave the privilege of being responsible for this girl for the rest of my life. But right now, it feels as though my only responsibility is to this pussy. She’s asking for it. Asking for a dirty fuck with her legs spread, dress around her waist, her cunt already wet. Yeah, I can feel that moisture through my fly, hot and eager and soaking into the material.

When I imagine us together in bed, you’re…you’re being so harsh with me. You pull my hair and c-call me vile names, swat my bottom and move so roughly on top of me.

She has no idea what that confession has done to me.

I’m ruined. I’m reborn. I’m fucking obsessed with this girl.

“Do you, Blessing Wakefield, take Edison Scrooge to be your lawfully wedded husband?” asks the preacher, his voice unsteady.

It’s torture taking my tongue out of her sweet mouth, but I manage the feat long enough for her to answer. “I do,” she hiccups.

I’m already unzipping my pants when the preacher turns his attention to me, asking me the same question. “Do you, Edison Scrooge, t-t-take Blessing Wakefield to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“Yes,” I grit through my teeth. “God yes.”

The preacher stumbles toward the door, dropping his Bible in the process. “Y-you may…you may…”

“Fuck the bride?” I suggest roughly against her mouth.

I grip my cock and guide it between her legs, moaning like an animal during mating season to find she’s wearing no panties. Her hole is slippery and inviting and I’m too overcome with lust to do anything but tuck the head of my cock inside of her, slide an arm beneath her hips to keep her steady—and drive myself home, into the tight wonder of her cunt, my balls slapping loudly off her supple ass cheeks.

“Oh fuck. Fuck! Motherfucker.”

Ben backs out of the room while mopping his brow, along with the preacher, but they remain in the doorway, watching with clear conflict—and something darker—in their expressions. They remain there too long for my taste.

“More. More!” she cries out beneath me, my miracle of a wife.

“Get the fuck out,” I growl at the men, beginning to pump. “Oh my God!”

I simply can’t believe she’s real. I’m dreaming. No way she’s squeezing me so perfectly, her pussy suctioned around me, drawing on me with hot pulsations, flexing and tightening. And so drenched, my cock squeaks a little every time I ram it deep.

“I’m being too rough,” I choke out. “Tell me to stop. Tell me to slow down.”

“No,” she moans, her fingers twisting in the back of my loosened pants and urging me forward, spurring me on. “I love it. I need it.”

A ripple of dread goes through my balls. I’m not going to make it much longer. Not with her baby-talking at me. Not with her pussy so sweet and addictive. In the interest of making love to Blessing long enough to make her orgasm, like she deserves, I press her knees up to her shoulders and bear down with my lower body, slowing my thrusts down, grinding into her slick hole. “You need what, baby?”

Her glazed eyes find mine and she flexes her tiny muscles around me. “I need your monster, like you said.” She bites her lip. “Does it like me?”

I know she’s talking about my cock, but there is a beast inside of me that grows more and more ferocious the longer I’m inside of her. She could be talking about both. “My monster loves you,” I pant against her lips, pumping inside of her again like a dog. Can’t help it, can’t help it. “It’s not sure how it ever came without you.”

She searches my eyes innocently. “Came?”

My God, she doesn’t even know that a man ejaculates and here I am, fucking her inexcusably hard, my balls pounding off her tight ass. It’s so bad that it’s criminal, but not even God himself could stop me now. “You remember the way your pussy dripped all over my face yesterday?” She flushes, but she nods. “My dick is going to do the same thing inside of you. It’s going to fill you with sperm, so you can bear me sons.”

Jesus. The way my explanation excites her is a dream come true. I actually feel her pussy release a fresh, hot wave of wetness and I thrust into it frantically, my mouth moving over hers, kissing her sexy sweetness, desperately trying to absorb every perfect part of her.

“You can come on my cock, little girl,” I grunt in between sweeping tastes of her mouth. “Same way you came on my tongue.”

She squeaks, gasps—and then she’s coming.

Having a wet, shaking orgasm.

“Fuck!” I roar, overwhelmed by Blessing. Everything about her. From her innocence to her innate sexuality. She’s everything a man could dream of. “What made you come like that?”

“I…I don’t know—”

“Yes, you do.” I grab her by the throat, squeeze her just enough to revere her, not scare her. “You tell Daddy right now.”

Another orgasm plows into her and she screams this time, her thighs flailing, back arching up off the bed. “Oh! It feels so good!” Her fingers delve into my hair and she twists the strands around her fingers. “It feels best when you call me th-that. Call yourself…the other thing. And I don’t know why.”

Ah, I see now. Her hunger mirrors mine. Blessing is my perfect match.

Heaven sent.

I’ll cherish her every moment of every day.

And at night in bed, I’ll fuck her like she’s forbidden fruit.

I’m an animal now, ripping the wedding dress from her body, sending it in shreds to the floor. She’s limp from pleasure, her rosy body a naked temptation. I should wait until she recovers from her back-to-back climaxes, but I can’t. The need inside of me is too urgent and must be slaked immediately.

Blood pounds in my temples, the need to conquer and dominate turning my muscles, my cock to steel. I flip her face down like a predator and tug her ass high into the air, slapping it roughly. Six times. Hard paddles of her pretty tush. Not only because she told me she envisioned being spanked, but because I sense she has needed a male hand to discipline her for a very long time. I’m that man now. I’ll always be that man.

When I can’t take the clawing lust any longer, I guide my dripping shaft between her thighs, tuck the head inside and lean down to speak at the nape of her neck. “You’re not an orphan anymore, angel. Daddy’s home.”

My first thrust from the back—and my words, no doubt—spurs her into a ruthless, twisting third orgasm that has her screaming and struggling through the pleasure beneath me. She bucks so wildly that I have to hold her down to fuck her, my balls releasing their pressure after five violent pounds of her pussy.

I bellow at the ceiling, the intensity of my peak obliterating the past, the future, blurring everything into the now, the rhythmic squeezes she grants me, the sheen of her smooth skin, the rapacious beating of my heart.

“I’m in love with you,” I say, my seed still shooting into her, my hips grinding, my lap slapping wetly off her buttocks. “I’m fucking burning alive for you. Mine. Mine! I love you, I love you, I love you…”

I collapse on top of her giving body, my breath in short supply but my heart overflowing. Out of necessity, I gather her roughly against me and breathe in the wildflower scent of her skin, memorizing the beats of her heart. She comes to me willingly, holding me tight like she’ll never let go. But she doesn’t return my vow of love.

It’s then that I realize her body and presence and hand in marriage won’t be enough.

Yes, I already told her I’m not a man people can easily love, but now…I think I might die if she doesn’t love me back. I require her love.

And I’ll do everything in my power to obtain it.