Pixie Isobella

He lifted his mouth finally and I gasped for air, wondering what the hell I was doing. What was he doing? I still couldn’t really see him but he chuckled in the darkness above me. ‘I’m going to fuck you, Clare.’ Clare’s Christmas visit with her boyfriend’s family takes an unexpected turn when her boyfriend abandons her – leaving her at the mercy of his predatory brothers. Now she’s a sexual plaything of the brothers and their best friend. They’ve been watching her hungrily, and they won’t take no for an answer. She’s all alone, helpless – and about to have the wildest Christmas of her life.

‘Capturing Clare’ is an erotic novel for sale on Smashwords and All These Roadworks. Chapter 1 of Capturing Clare is here.

Capturing Clare: Chapter 2

Angus — or Anthony — chuckled in the darkness above me.

‘I’m going to fuck you, Clare,’ he said, his voice rough with passion.

‘What?’ I wanted to shriek but I only got as far as drawing breath before I felt his lips land back on mine. His hands both dropped to my hips, holding me tightly against him with a firm grip, and he fucked his hips at me suggestively.

With the hard furniture behind me, I had no room for movement. I gasped into his mouth as I felt very clearly how erect his cock was. The hard shaft was separated from me only by thin fabric and it pushed into the swell of my tummy in a clear statement of intent.

The man laughed at me again, directly into my mouth as he lifted his head. A hard, hungry hand felt up my body, inside my robe this time, and he chuckled in delight as his fingers reached my soft breasts. I struggled to process the sensations as he greedily groped at both breasts, his fingers sinking into the soft globes.

‘If you didn’t want to be fucked, you shouldn’t have breasts like this,’ he smirked down at me, his face only barely visible in the darkness. ‘Or walk the corridors half-naked in lingerie.’

It occurred to me that I was in his parent’s house and if I screamed, someone would almost certainly come running. I also realised, with some bewilderment, that I wasn’t going to.

I didn’t want to him to fuck me. Dammit, I still hadn’t even worked out which of the twin brothers he even was…

Was this Anthony, suave and urbane, an excellent host who had taken it on himself during the afternoon and at dinner to make sure that I felt at home, despite Matthew’s untimely exit? Or was it Angus, silent and brooding, who spoke rarely but who had smiled at me unexpectedly across the dining table, and then winked at me, as if to say he knew exactly how awkward this must be for me?

I couldn’t fuck a man when I didn’t know who he was. I just couldn’t!

But I also didn’t want to walk away. I was too horny, I had been daydreaming about sex for days, weeks even, and not getting any. I realised that if I stayed here, Anthony — or Angus — would do what he wanted, and I would feel that hard shaft that was pressed against my tummy inside me, driving into me… I would hear his male voice gasping in the darkness above me… Maybe that would sate the need that was inside me.

The man didn’t give me a chance to say no anyway, turning me roughly to face away from him, one hand roughly still on my breasts, the other manipulating me with my shoulder. Then he lifted me physically by the hips, and pushed me roughly forward from the waist. I landed on my front, bent at the hips, gasping in shock at how easily he could pick me up and shove my whole body around.

Suddenly, I also knew where I was in the house. This was the second-floor landing just down from my room. My face was up against the window and the hardwood under my head and torso was a wide windowsill at slightly higher than waist height. My feet no longer touched the floor and I felt suspended and vulnerable.

Behind me, Angus — or Anthony — was pulling my hands together, breathing roughly. I whimpered to feel him tying them tightly together with soft fabric — the belt of his robe, I guessed. No lover had ever tied my hands and it felt wicked and wanton.

The man’s legs were hard against my legs, holding me against the wooden box seat — really nothing more than a metre-wide windowsill. He used his hips to lean his full weight against my butt, holding me still.

I could get away, I guessed. Even with my hands tied like this and his weight against me. I didn’t want to.

I heard the crackle of a condom wrapper and I whimpered softly to myself.

What the hell was I even doing? Letting this man fuck me, in the middle of the night in his parent’s house? And he hadn’t even asked what I wanted.

‘I know what you want,’ he murmured in the darkness, as if reading my mind.

His hands caressed my hips, teasing at the waistline of my silken shorties, then sliding over the silken fabric down past my back. I whimpered — half in fear, half in desire — when I felt probing hard fingers against my inner thighs. He grunted in satisfaction to find that my shorties were crotchless, and I moaned to feel his fingers slide into my wetness.

‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘I thought so. You’re ripe and ready for cock, aren’t you darling? You even wore the clothes for it. I like it when a girl is always ready to me to fuck her.’

I moaned in embarrassment at his words, pulling instinctively away from him. I didn’t have anywhere to move to though and the man laughed at my efforts.

‘You’re not going anywhere, darling,’ he smirked smugly.

‘I wanted you at my feet at dinner,’ he said into the air above me. ‘I imagined you down there. In your place. In chains, so you couldn’t move or stop me doing what I wanted. Your face upturned towards mine, all vulnerable, maybe a bit scared. Your breasts out on display, so I could reach down and fondle them whenever I wanted.’

I knew he was naked and ready to fuck me, and I moaned at his obscene words. I was embarrassed to find desire flush through me, both at the imagery and at the feeling of being restrained against my will.

The man withdrew his hand from my pussy and I moaned in anticipation. Oh gods, I was so horny right now, and I didn’t want him to fuck me, I really didn’t — I didn’t even know him — but I kept imagining what his hard dick must look like now and how it would feel driving into me.

Nothing like this had ever happened to me and I realised I didn’t want it to stop. No-one had ever treated me roughly like this before and it was turning me on like I could not believe.

‘You don’t get a choice,’ he said roughly in the air above me, and I whimpered as his hands settled onto my hips.

The hard tip of his shaft prodded at my pussy and I whimpered at the feeling of such a private place being touched, explored, invaded without so much as a by-your-leave from him.

‘Good girl,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll teach you your place.’

Then he shifted his weight, locating my entrance, and in shock I felt him pushing straight into me.

I was very wet but he was also very large, and I hadn’t really been having intercourse much recently. I could feel how tight I was when he started to push himself into me and — as usual — I felt my breath catch at the feeling of being stretched and explored.

The man didn’t give me a chance to process anything, or my body a chance to adjust to him. He just pushed himself straight into me, deep into me, until I felt pinned against the wide windowsill like a butterfly or moth in a display case.

‘Good girl,’ he grunted again. ‘So warm and wet and compliant. Be silent while I bang you, OK?’

Read on Chapters 3 and 4!

© 2022 Pixie Isobella