He Claims Me Read Online Free Page A

display cases is another item on my not to do list, the brightly colored cones housed within them being the most valuable of her collection. Forced to break this rule, I carefully close the glass door using two of my fingers. Mrs. Leigh would become more upset if dust touched her precious knickknacks.
    As I move through the house, sweat beads on my forehead, the heat stifling. I open some of the windows, trusting the security bars to keep me safe. The sheer silver curtains billow, the night breeze refreshingly cool.
    As my bedroom, formerly a storage closet, has no windows, I leave the door open and drape the garment bag over a metal folding chair. The only other items in the small space are a twin-­sized mattress, the matching box spring, and a suitcase filled with my clothes and other worldly belongings.
    I’ve had less and I don’t need more. That’s what I tell myself anyway. I set the tote on the floor beside my bed and I undress, choosing to sleep naked, Blaine’s key my only adornment, the ribbon soft against my neck.
    I remove the beautiful white marble dildo from the black velvet bag. The stone is smooth and cool and I yearn to rub it all over my body.
    I resist this temptation, as Blaine’s instructions are clear. I’m to slide the dildo inside me. I’m not to touch myself or find release without him.
    I lie back on the bed and spread my thighs. Blaine’s scent surrounds me, clinging to the marble and to my body, dried cum flaking on my stomach.
    I feel as though he’s here. He’s watching me. I push the dildo into my tight pussy, the hard marble stretching me open, the tip stroking my inner walls.
    I reluctantly release the dildo, leaving Blaine’s beautiful gift inside me. I imagine it’s him inside me, his cock throbbing, filling me, and I sigh with contentment, closing my eyes.

 
    Chapter Three
    I DREAM I ’ M lying naked on the long wooden table in Blaine’s office. My arms and legs are spread and my knees bent. I can’t move, my limbs too heavy. The room is filled with men in dark suits, smoking cigars and swirling cognac in crystal glasses.
    Blaine invites them, one by one, to look at me. The men bend their heads and peer between my thighs, gazing at my wet pussy. They grunt their approval. Blaine pokes and prods me, pride and some deeper emotion, an emotion I’m not brave enough to name, reflecting in his green eyes.
    I wake up wet and aroused, my sheets soaked with perspiration. The dildo slides out easily, the marble slick with my juices. I feel empty and achy, my pussy missing the hardness, the fullness.
    It’s a struggle not to touch myself sexually in the shower, but I resist this temptation, skimming a washcloth over my body quickly. I leave the conditioner Blaine gave me in my hair, the vanilla scent covering my musk.
    I wear the vintage purple Yves Saint Laurent two-­piece skirt suit. The sleeveless vest sports a front closure, the three-­quarter-­length flared skirt can be flipped up, and the fabric is thick enough to conceal my taut nipples.
    I grab my tote, slip my feet into my flats, and leave the house, wondering when I started choosing my clothing based upon how easy the garments are to have sex in. And I will have sex today, my need for Blaine undeniable.
    First, I have to survive the day. I can do this. I’m strong . . . or so Blaine claims. I smile at the bus driver as I pay my fare. He straightens in his seat and smiles back.
    I sit beside a heavily made-­up, soaked in perfume woman. She gives me a haughty sniff, wrinkling her powdered nose, and continues talking loudly on the phone. She tells someone she calls girlfriend how all of the good men are taken, leaving only broke ass brothers for her to date.
    The strip of turf has been replaced in front of Feed Your Hungry’s headquarters. The sprinklers soak my shoes as I pass, the scent of freshly mowed grass and rich dark earth filling my