Dominated by the heir Pt. 01
“You already know what you need to do.” His tongue wet his lipsstory as he already prepared to devour me.
He had the sort of dominant stare that could drench my panties while also threatening me. I recognized it from the first time I saw him at the funeral of my mother’s wealthy husband. The six-foot-four man wore a suit, then instead of the casual jeans and fitted gray tee.
So why the fuck was this guy standing inside my apartment?
Maybe a better question would be why I didn’t run outside, given how much I feared that gaze.
“Shut the door,” he ordered from where he leaned against the wall.
I obeyed, guiding it closed silently.
“Lock it,” he demanded, not bothering to push back the brown hair that fell just past his brow.
I may not have known who he was, but I knew better than to piss off anyone who’d had ties with my dead stepfather. “I think you have the wrong apartment.”
“My father’s name is on the lease,” his hand glided over a portrait on the wall. “That makes this my luxury apartment.”
I took in a deep breath. “Oh.”
Mom never was good at reminding me of such things. I would need to figure out something else while my mom sorted things out. I locked the door as ordered, certain this man came to insult my gold digging mother. People usually insulted her for that, especially when money was involved.
This man looked to be a good ten years younger than her, most likely late thirties. Possibly the wealthy old man’s late-life sole heir. I’d been bullied before by kids who felt my mother deserved nothing, so this was nothing new.
The way he watched me was new, though.
“Sit,” he ordered, the word came out as though I was nothing more than a dog. Again, nothing new to the insults. Just let him fume so he would leave.
I went to the small, round table, intentionally sitting with my back to the dominant man. My one passive aggressive act that forced him to move in order to take control of the situation.
“If your slut mom is half as obedient as you, I see why my father kept her around.” As he spoke, his voice grew closer until he stood against my upper back.
The man’s hand curled around my throat, most likely in warning for me not to mouth off. Not that I considered doing so.
None of the people before had ever laid a hand on me during their insulting intrusions. Most had significantly worse to say about my mom, though.
“What are you willing to do to ensure your tuition is paid for and I don’t toss out all of your belongings?”
My swallow strained against his grip on my throat. I’d never been asked anything like that either. Was he demanding I fuck him?
His left hand reached down to my breast, this touch causing me to squirm from the violation. His hold on my neck didn’t budge, though.
The worst part was how my body reacted to him. He turned me on. The thought of being rutted by him sent the sort of catch to my breath that his palm clasping my breast could feel.
His grip beneath my chin tilted my head upward to look at him. That soul-consuming stare captured me again. My mom would know how to handle this. I wouldn’t humiliate myself by attempting her level of seduction, though.
His groping hand went to the neckline of my shirt, yanking it and my bra downward. My mother often mentioned how wealthy men believed they could touch whatever they wanted. They could have whatever they wanted.
Would this man, whose name I still didn’t know, decide he wanted to do more than threaten me? My mother could arrange for me a new home and tuition, but would that stop the man whose hold warned of dark intent?
I didn’t need anything from him, not really. I could be fine without this extortion. I’d also never met anyone whose demanding presence could have me melted in this way. He didn’t know that, though.
“What do I need to do?” I asked.
The hand around my neck loosened before roving my shoulder. “You already know what you need to do.” His tongue wet his lips as he already prepared to devour me.
And I did already know what was expected of me. At least, in a way. I lacked my mother’s expertise, though. She could have resolved this in ten seconds if she were the one with hands to her throat. Without a doubt, it would be fun for her. By the throb between my legs, it might be fun for me as well.
I turned in the seat to face him, before lowering my knees to the carpet. That long lock of his hair swooped forward as his face tilted to watch me. The forceful grip to the back of my head warned that he owned my face for the time being.
“Unclasp my jeans?” He spoke with an authority that I had no will to refuse. The swell already had them so tight, it was hard to grip the area.
I had second guesses on whether or not I wanted to do this. I hadn’t seen it yet, but felt certain the size of his cock would prove unpleasant once he thoroughly punished me with it. The palm that held my head in place ensured me there would be no opportunity to change my mind.
I fumbled, finally unclasping the pants and pulling them down for his cock to spring out and thwack my cheek. The moment I gripped it, he let out a deep, quick exhale. Maybe the millionaire heir hadn’t cum in a while. If so, this could be quick and easy.
“Open your mouth, already!” he growled, a little too eager for this. At the command, my lips parted and I leaned forward to lick the swollen tip. I wondered if he’d been wanting me to do this at the funeral, as he’d leered at me with the same hunger. People like him cared about power more than loved ones.
I took the tip into my mouth, forcing my mouth to open wide to take him in. He may have been more than eager to have me do this, but I couldn’t rely on his hips pumping to speed up the process. He made me do all the work, bobbing my head, squeezing, sucking, tasting the salty pre-cum, creating a soreness in my jaw as I pleased him.
“You have no fucking idea what you’re doing, do you, little slut?” he said haughtily. His hold hindered my ability to pull backward to answer. The thrust of his hips rammed his cock deep into my throat, so far I felt as though I’d gag. Some women might detest the insult or degradation, was I wrong to enjoy it? Did he know I liked it?
With every exaggerated pump, he glared down as though he owned me, as though he needed to punish me for a task poorly accomplished. As though I needed to thank him every time he pulled all the way out, so I had a chance to breathe — not that he gave me that luxury too often.
His fingertips dug into my scalp, silently asserting their own dominance as he held himself deep. He could have simply fucked my face and been done, but he preferred the slow ownership of me.
“You should know,” he said, “I never cum during a blow job.”
He didn’t stop though; simply made me realize this had nothing to do with his own physical pleasure. Of course, with a cock that big, he needed free reign somewhere without teeth. And I’d never had anything larger than six inches in me, not to mention the added girth he sported.
When it became obvious this was a game to him, I finally jerked my head free. “Just fuck me already.” I panted. Seriously, I could feel the drenching in my panties. I may not have wanted something that huge inside me under normal circumstances, but he had me craving release.
His eyes narrowed. “But I was having fun.”
My sore jaw clenched at his mockery.
He pushed my head to the side. “Take off your clothes and crawl on hands and knees to your bedroom, so that pussy of yours earns every penny of your rent and tuition.”
