"Bathroom's through there," I tell her, gesturing to an en-suite. "Everything you need should be stocked."
Wren stands in the doorway, looking small and uncertain in my clothes. "Thank you. For everything."
I allow myself one more touch, brushing my knuckles against her cheek. "Sleep well, little bird."
It takes every ounce of my self-control to turn and walk away.
Wren
The door clicks shut behind him, and I'm alone in this massive, perfect guest room that's bigger than my entire apartment. My skin still tingles where Calvin touched me, little electric currentsrunning from my cheek down my spine, pooling between my thighs. I've never felt this way before—this ache, this hunger, this confusion.
I wander into the bathroom, stunned by the luxury. Marble everything. A shower big enough for four people. I splash cold water on my face, trying to clear my head, but when I look in the mirror, I barely recognize myself. My pupils are dilated, my cheeks flushed. I look... awakened.
What am I doing? I've known this man for two days, and I've just agreed to... what, exactly? To be his. To let him take care of me.
Give up control to a man who looks at me like he wants to devour me whole.
I should be terrified. Instead, I'm throbbing with need.
Back in the bedroom, I crawl under expensive sheets that feel like liquid against my skin. The storm continues to rage outside, rain lashing against the windows. I can't sleep. Not with this fire burning inside me, this ache between my legs that I don't fully understand.
I've touched myself before, of course. Quick, functional movements in the shower or before bed. It never felt like this—this desperate, clawing need. I shift restlessly, pressing my thighs together, seeking friction.
Calvin's words echo in my head.Such a good little girl. So brave.
My hand slides beneath the waistband of the borrowed sweatpants, beneath the cotton of my panties. I'm shocked at how wet I am, how slick and ready. For him. All for him.
Is this what he meant by surrender? This helpless need? This willingness to do anything, be anything he wants?
I circle my clit with tentative fingers, gasping at the jolt of pleasure. In my mind, it's Calvin touching me, his large hand engulfing my most intimate parts, those intense eyes watchingme fall apart. I slip a finger inside myself, then another, imagining they're his.
"Such a good girl," I hear him say in my fantasy. "Taking my fingers so well. So wet for me."
My back arches off the bed as I pump my fingers faster, my thumb rubbing my clit in tight circles. In my mind, Calvin looms over me, those broad shoulders blocking out the world, making me feel small and protected and owned.
"Please," I whisper to the empty room, to the phantom Calvin of my imagination. "Please, I need..."
What do I need? I've never had sex before. Hell, I read about how to finger myself in a book. I’ve neverwantedquite like this. But now I can picture it with perfect clarity—Calvin above me, inside me, filling me in ways I've never been filled.
My fantasy shifts, grows more vivid. I see myself round with his child, his hand possessively splayed across my swollen belly. "Mine," fantasy-Calvin growls. "Mine to fill, mine to breed, mine to keep forever."
The thought sends me hurtling over the edge, my inner walls clenching around my fingers as I stifle a cry against the pillow. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me, more intense than anything I've ever felt before.
As I lie there, panting and dazed, a new thought forms in the hazy aftermath: I want that. All of it. I want to be owned, protected, filled. By him. Only him.
Calvin
I brace one hand against the shower wall, hot water sluicing down my back as I stroke my cock with punishing intensity. My jaw is clenched so tight I might crack a tooth. It's been years since I've had to resort to jerking off like a fucking teenager, unable to sleep for want of a woman.
But Wren isn't just any woman.
I close my eyes, picturing her in the guest room, wearing my clothes, surrounded by my wealth. Is she touching herself right now? Thinking of me? Of my hands, my mouth, my cock?
"Fuck," I growl, my hand speeding up as I imagine her spread out beneath me, those pale blue eyes wide with a mixture of fear and desire as I push into her for the first time. She'll be tight, so fucking tight, gripping me like a vise as I claim what's mine.
The image morphs, grows more explicit. Wren on her hands and knees, ass raised as I pound into her from behind, my hand wrapped in her hair, pulling her head back so I can growl filth into her ear.
"Taking my cock so well, little bird. Such a good girl for Daddy."
