Becoming His Ch. 01

**This is my first attempt at this, so please be kind. I hope you enjoy.**

Pulling up to the wrought-iron gate, I stare in confusion. Of all the things I expected to find, the heavily guarded fortress in front of me was not one of them. I check my phone again to make sure I have the right address, flipping back and forth between my text messages and my Maps app. It's the right address, but this has to be a mistake... maybe he texted it wrong or something. My already frazzled nerves scream for me to turn around and go back home. It was stupid of me to agree to this, there's no other word for it. But I was lonely and feeling brave for once, lulled by a sense of familiarity.

I'm still thinking there's been a mistake when two men step out of the guardhouse just to the left of the gate and approach my car. Now I don't know much about guns, but even I can tell the ones holstered on their belts are not standard issue. Not to mention, they're both carrying deadly looking rifles across the front of their bodies. These guys are armed for an attack, not just to scare lost idiots like me.

"Shit. What have I gotten myself into?" I mumble as I put my car into park and prepare to talk my way out of this.

The larger of the two men approaches my side of the car and I roll down my window. I try my best to look non-threatening. His partner meanwhile is using his flashlight to look into my backseat as he makes his way around my car.

"I'm so sorry," I say to the guard at my window, my voice shaking from nervousness. "I think I must have the wrong address."

"Name?" he says, in a slightly accented voice. I hesitate, not wanting to give this man my name but not feeling like I have much of a choice. One glance in my rearview mirror tells me his partner has positioned himself behind my car, so as to block me in.

"Lillian Preda, but I think there's been a mistake. Please, if you'll just let me turn around, I'll be on my way without bothering you again."

"Ms. Preda, Mr. Cazador has been expecting you. Please pull through the gate and up to the main house." Almost like magic, the gate opens with his words and before I can argue he's waiving me through. I seriously consider backing out anyway, but the other guard is still positioned behind my car, trapping me. So with warning bells screaming inside my head, telling me I'm about to enter a horror story or something, I accept that I don't have a choice and pull through to the brick drive in front of me.

The pen-pal program my church started with the state prison was intended to help motivate inmates. It was the brainchild of our minister, who thought we would get as much out of it as the inmates. The prison chosen was a minimum-security facility and participants allowed into the program are heavily screened before being paired with members of our church. We were assured that there'd be no risk to us. Only those sentenced for non-violent crimes, who were first offenders and had good records both in prison and out, and who were screened by their counselors and Pastor Greg, were chosen as participants.

Still, this isn't something I'd typically be brave enough to do. At twenty-four I'm still a virgin. I've never had a boyfriend and don't have any male friends. In fact, outside of my church, I don't really have any friends at all. Talking to people I don't know gives me too much anxiety. I feel awkward and never know what to say. Outside of my job as a librarian and my interactions at church, I rarely have the courage to talk to anyone. So when Pastor Greg approached me to encourage me to try the pen pal program I was hesitant, but in the end, he convinced me it could be good practice for me and I was paired with an inmate. And as I pull up to what could only be described as a mansion at the end of the drive, and park next to a fleet of black Mercedes SUVs, I wonder what the heck I've gotten myself into.

Gabriel Cazador was serving time for tax evasion when I got paired with him. Twenty-nine to my twenty-four years, everything I know about him comes from letters and emails, and eventually phone calls done in fifteen-minute increments. I've never seen a picture of him, had refused to do a video call with him and never sent him a picture of myself. In some ways, I feel like I know him intimately, spending six months getting to know him through letters before agreeing to finally talk to him on the phone. But in other ways, he's a complete stranger to me. And certainly, I never expected to meet him. And yet, here I am about to walk into his lair.

The panic I feel as I approach the large wooden doors in front of me starts deep down in my stomach and screams its way up through to my brain. This is a terrible idea. I would've turned around a thousand times already if I thought for one second the guards at the front gate would let me back through. But I instinctively know forward is my only way out of here.

One of the doors opens before I have the chance to knock, and a man well over 6' stands in front of me. He has broad shoulders, a trim waist, dark hair, and tan complexion. He has the lightest grey eyes I've ever seen, beautiful but cold as they assess me. And somehow I know this is Gabriel without having to be told. A chill runs down my spine and I want to turn and run, to put as much distance between me and this man who radiates controlled danger as I can. I want to get far away and never look back.

"Lillian," he says, his voice the low. The husky timber I've become familiar with over the past few months sends shivers down my spine.

It's too much. My legs freeze and I stop walking. Going any further would be beyond stupid, but I can't step back either. As much as I've talked to this man over letters and phone calls, nothing has prepared me for the dark predator standing before me. Nothing's prepared me for his chiseled good looks or the intense scrutiny of his gaze. And in the seconds I stand there, locked in front of him like some kind of helpless deer, I've become his prey, and I know it.

"I, umm..." I squeak out on a helpless whisper.

"Come, pet," he says, reaching for me. His large hand drawfs mine, while his other comes up to stroke my cheek. Finally I unfreeze, trying to take a step back, out of his space, but it's too late. He holds me firmly in his grip and the tightness of his hand as it wraps around mine tells me I'm not going anywhere. I'm his for as long as he wants it so.

We enter a large foyer, done in floor to ceiling marble. Two more guard stand at attention on either side of the door, and I bite my lower lip in fear and confusion. Nothing about this man feels safe, and yet the men selected for our church's pen pal program had been screened! Pastor Greg met with every single candidate and helped pair them with us. He should be safe! A first offender with no violent background and nothing to indicate he was anything but some guy who got caught trying not to pay his taxes. And yet I know that I'm in more trouble than I've ever been, that I've stepped into the devil's den without so much as a protest. In trying to be brave, I have offered myself up like the lamb to the lion.

With a nod to the guard, the front doors close and lock behind us. Gabriel leads me down a hallway, his grip firm but gentle. "We have so much to discuss," he says, his voice quiet in a way that I think is meant to soothe me but which ramps up the fear radiating deep within my chest. He's talking to me like I'm a wild animal he has to break.

What was I thinking coming here? Why have I been so stupid, meeting him at his house instead of a public place for the first time? A year's worth of correspondence lulled me into feeling safe, feeling comfortable. My whole life has been lived with caution, never taking the risky path, never stepping out of my comfort zone... and yet the one time I take a leap of faith it's led me here, with a man who has armed men stationed throughout his property, and who effortlessly trapped me in his den. So stupid!

Admonishing myself isn't going to save me, though. Somehow I have to find a way out of this place, and quickly before I lose any more control of the situation.

Gabriel leads me into what could only be his office; large and masculine, with dark wood throughout the room, plush carpets, and oversized furniture, the mahogany desk that stands in front of us the focal point of the room. Shelves line the walls from floor to ceiling with both old books and new, and with a glance, I can see some of the tomes on the shelves are priceless. Off to the left, a fireplace keeps the room at a comfortable temperature, and on the right a large leather couch sits waiting to swallow you up.

Behind me, I hear the click of the lock as it settles into place. I turn at the sound, fear making me gasp. I'm trapped in here with the devil, and I'm not getting out until he decides he's ready for me to leave. "Gabriel, please..." I say, prepared to beg for my freedom.

"Mmm," he purrs, his eyes closed as a look of ecstasy crosses his face. "You've no idea how long I've been waiting for you to say my name in person, pet. So long. Too long. I've never had to wait for anything as long as I've had to wait for this moment." His eyes focus on me, darker than they were just seconds ago, and even for someone as inexperienced as I am, I see the desire in them.

"Gabriel, please. I... I think there's been a mistake. I think I should leave," I plead, my voice shaky and higher than normal.

"No pet, there's been no mistake. You're right where you're supposed to be," his hands come up to my face, stroking my cheeks possessively before reaching back and pulling my long, ashen blonde hair out of the ponytail that secures it at the nape of my neck. He runs his right hand through my long locks as his left comes to rest firmly at my waist.

"I've waited so long to claim you, Lillian; now that you're here, nothing, not even you, will stop me from owning what is rightfully mine."

At his words, my eyes go wide and I step back, this time pushing against him with all of my strength. But my 5'3 slim frame is nothing compared to his 6'4 frame of pure muscle.

"Now, pet, you know this is meant to be. Otherwise, you wouldn't have been brave enough to come here. We both know you're meant to be by my side, with me as I build my empire back up. You're meant to be mine, and pretty soon you'll admit it to yourself."

"No! Please, Gabriel, please. I... we were never meant to be more than pen-pals... friends, sure! But this has all been a big mistake and I'm sorry for it. I have to go. Please, just let me go."

In response, his mouth comes down on mine. I cry out as his lips smash into mine and he uses my response to slip his tongue into my mouth, claiming me as his. He sucks in the breath that escapes on my gasp, as if he'd swallow my soul if he could. This man is going to devour me, and there's not a thing I can do to stop him. I moan in fear, but even I can hear the desire leak in as the kiss deepens and his hands slide down my neck toward my breast... and I hate myself for it.

He laughs a deep chuckle at my moan, never releasing my mouth. There's no hesitation as his fingers slip under my blouse, the v-neck making it so, so easy for him to reach in and cup my breast, to stroke my nipple. This is no slow seduction; this is him taking ownership of what he already considers his. He pinches my nipple, hard, and I throw my head back, breaking the kiss. Reaching down with his free hand, he grabs my ass, hauling me up against his hard body as he spins and slams us into the door now behind me. My legs lift off the floor as he guides them around his waist. "Please, Gabriel, please don't do this," I had to try again, knowing how futile it was.

"Mine," he says, his voice husky with desire, just before he bites down on my neck. I don't even try to quiet the scream that escapes as he draws blood. "Mine," he says, gently licking the drop of blood I feel running down my neck, before sucking on the spot he bit. "Mine," he says, as he reaches down and pulls my blouse over my head, tossing it carelessly to the floor.

His hard body has me trapped against the door, and I feel his desire as it pushes against my belly. It's hard and thick and far too big to possibly ever fit into me. On a surge of panic, I shove against him again, frantic as I try to get him off me; there is no way that thing will fit! "oh god, you're going to kill me," I say on a moan.

"No, pet, I'll never hurt you."

"You're hurting me now," I cry. "With this, you're hurting me now! Please, it's not too late, just let me go home. I just want to go home," I beg.

"You are home." And then he's lifting me away from the door and carrying me to his desk. Carelessly he shoves his arm across it, swiping everything onto the floor in one fluid motion. I was wearing my long, light blue peasant skirt. He lifts me slightly and pulls the skirt off me, my white cotton panties coming with it. Deprived of my clothes, I lean back and spin away from him in an attempt to climb over his desk and away from him. He grabs my shin with a chuckle, pulling me back into place with almost no effort. "You're not going anywhere, pet. Not now. Not ever."

I try to cover myself with my hands, having never been naked in front of a man before. He yanks his shirt off, his eyes following my movement as I hide my womanhood from his view. "I'm gonna see all of that and more many times over again, pet, so you might as well get used to me looking." And with that he reaches around and unhooks my bra, sliding it down first one arm and then the other. Finally, he steps back away from me for the first time since this has begun, his gaze admiring as he takes in my nakedness.

"I thought about you just like this," he says, his hand coming up to gently stroke one nipple and then the other, bringing them to hard little points. "Naked and on my desk, waiting for me to claim you. I pictured your long blonde hair falling around your breasts, teasingly covering your nipples from my view. I imagined your taste as I sunk my tongue into your pussy for the first time. The sound of your voice drove me crazy every time we talked, so angelic but with the hint of a rasp to it. And every time you said my name, I'd get hard. So fucking hard. Let me tell you, hard in prison is not the best state to be in. I spent the last six months uncomfortable for the want of you. I swore to myself that when I got out you'd scream my name as I slammed my cock into that sweet little pussy of yours, that I'd make you pay for every uncomfortable moment I spent wishing this cute little mouth of yours would settle around my hard cock." His words stroke me, setting my skin on fire in a way I'm unfamiliar with.

"But I'll tell you what, pet, I'll give you your freedom right now if that's what you want." At this I feel the first spark of hope, only to have it fade on his next words. "If I dip my finger into you and you're not wet, you can put your clothes back on and walk out of here, never to look back."

"No," I whisper in despair, knowing that I've lost. The feral look in his eyes tells me he knows I have too.

Slowly, he spreads my legs wide on the desk. I push back against him but it's no use, his strength dwarfs mine. And then his finger is stroking my lips, just barely rubbing at my clit before dipping inside of me, not once, not twice, but three times sliding within my folds. I moan, unable to hide my reaction as a predatory smile takes over his face.

"MINE," he says as he hold his finger up between us, my juices catching the light above us. "Open," he demands, bringing his finger up to my face. Knowing I've lost, I give in to his commands without protest and open for him as he slides his finger into my mouth. "Suck," he says, ordering me to clean my juices off his finger. "This mouth," he says on a groan as I obey his order and suck, "I'm going to do so many bad things to this mouth." And then he slams his mouth down on mine, claiming it as the taste of me still lingers.

His hands work between us at his zipper, freeing himself from the last barrier between us, his black slacks. Releasing my mouth, he steps back as he slides his pants off, wearing nothing underneath them. With a gasp, I get my first look at him, and once again become convinced he'll kill me if he enters me with the monster between his legs. It's at least ten inches long and about the width of both of my hands if they wrapped around his giant member. "You'll never fit!"

"I swear to you, this cock was made for that tight little pussy of yours. It'll fit," he says with a husky laugh, grabbing himself and stroking as he looks my body over.

I moan, and I'm not sure if it's from fear or desire, as watching him stroke his member does something inside of me, heating me to my core.

Still, I have to try one more time. This is my virginity he's about to take. And he was taking it; there was no asking involved. "Please, Gabriel, please, I beg you one last time, don't do this to me."

"Enough," he barks, "you've had your chance. Now you're mine." And with that, he reaches down, lines himself up to my entrance and starts to push.

He's so big, too big, and I am far too small. As he pushes his tip into me I try to scoot back on the desk, away from him and the pain he's causing. But he grabs my hips and yanks me toward the edge of the desk, pushing into me even more as he positions me right where he wants me.

I squirm from the pain, the burning sensation too much as he pushes his first inch into me. "Pet, christ, hold still if you want this to go well. The more you squirm the more I want to sink deep into you."

At his words I go perfectly still under him, clenching my nails into my palms instead as he works his way into me, too afraid to move now. If this was what it felt like when things were going well, I couldn't imagine what they'd feel like if they went bad.

"Fuck me, you're so fucking tight. Christ, I can't tell you how much it's killing me not just sinking deep into this tight, warm little pussy of yours, pet." I wiggle again as the feeling of fullness gets to be too much. "Hold!" he practically shouts at me. "Fuck. Just hold still, goddamn it." And then he stops, going still as he comes to my barrier.

"You're a virgin." His voice is low in what could only be awe. Raising my head to look at him, I bite my lip as I nod my head once, acknowledging the truth of his words.

"Fuuuuck," he groans. "Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought this was a possibility. How? You're twenty-four and look like a goddess. How are you still intact?"

But before I have the chance to answer he growls, "Then you're truly going to be mine in every way." His eyes go dark as they lock onto mine, possession clear in them as he reaches up to gently wrap a hand around my neck. Though his touch is soft, I feel the implied threat as his fingers tilt my head up. I am his, whether I want to be or not.

He pulls out of me to the tip, and for the first time since he sank into me, I feel like I can breathe. It only lasts half a second, though, as he pushes back into me, slowly taking himself to my barrier again before pulling back out. He's getting me ready, I think, letting me adjust before he breaks through and claims my virginity.

"This will hurt." His voice is gentle despite the bluntness of his words. "Only for a moment though, I swear."

I nod my head, closing my eyes in expectation of the pain. "No," he says. "Keep your eyes open. I want to watch them as I claim you." And as I open my eyes he slams into me, breaking through my barrier and owning me in every possible way.

"Fuck!" he says, as he sinks to the hilt within my slick folds. "Christ almighty, pet, so, so fucking tight. This pussy was made for me; it was made for my cock, do you understand?" As he speaks, he slowly withdraws, before pushing back in again. "This pussy is MINE. If you ever let another cock near it, I'll cut it off before I kill the bastard who would think to take this from me."