Work Text:
The first time it happened was an accident.
They’ve only shared a kiss, brief and followed by a flurry of confused emotions. Two breakups come in quick succession and a tentative stand off between them forms, leaving her unsure where they’re meant to go next.
Taggie, she supposes, shouldn’t be surprised it takes her less than a week to douse their entire flirtatious dance in gasoline and set things ablaze.
He’s at her house, more since her mother left, helping with as many tasks as he can manage, trying desperately to keep her afloat.
She’s been baking all afternoon and into the night for a little girls tea party that absolutely requires for each tiny cake to be different and special and unique and Taggie, well Taggie is exhausted.
“Cait’s homework is sorted, and the bills have been dropped in the post box,” Rupert says as he breezes into the room. She watches in a bit of a daze as he rolls up his sleeves to his elbows and comes to stand next to her, searching through her small pastries to see where she needs help next. The heat of him is intoxicating and Taggie has to shake her head to clear it.
“Thank you,” she tells him earnestly. “I’m nearly done with all this,” she continues with a wave of her hand, “and then I just have to feed Gertrude her dinner.”
“Oh, I fed her already,” Rupert tells her. Of course he did, what couldn’t he do? “Gave me those big sad eyes that match her mother’s, I couldn’t resist.”
Taggie huffs a laugh and she lets her eyes flutter closed when she feels Rupert’s hand give a comforting squeeze to the back of her neck. He’s been doing this more often, the touching, this casual intimacy that settles something warm in the pit of her stomach.
“This is lovely, angel, truly beautiful work,” Rupert says gently. His thumb strokes along her hair, a comforting weight to match his words.
Taggie smiles softly, not at all prepared for the freight train that is the next phrase that leaves his mouth.
“I’m so proud of you.”
She feels him press a kiss to the top of her head and she visibly shudders, leaning into the heat of him so her cheek settles into the warmth of his shoulder. She’s so, so tired and here this man is, acknowledging her for all her hard work on top of helping her exactly where she needs to be helped.
It’s involuntary.
Inevitable.
“Thank you, daddy,” she slips. Nothing more than a soft sigh that earns her a sucked breath in response and an even tighter grip on the back of her neck.
Rupert hums, the vibrations soothing the fluttering ache behind her still-closed eyes.
“Oh, my lovely girl,” he says, a stitch to her heart, a prayer on her skin.
And that’s how it starts.
***
The second time they kiss is the second time she says it.
Rupert hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since, rattling around inside his skull like a ping pong ball so much so that Bas has to whack him on the hand with his pool stick to get him to remember his turn.
“I swear, mate,” Bas laughs. “You’ve been somewhere else for ages. You still mourning that breakup with Cameron? Pretty woman she is but there’s plenty more where she came from, yeah?”
Rupert lines up his shot.
“It’s been a tumultuous few months,” Rupert states. A half truth, as things truly have not been the same since Taggie stepped foot onto his tennis court and knocked his entire world off its axis. “My heads been elsewhere.”
“Your head,” Bas says. “Should be between a woman’s legs.”
Rupert thinks of the little dress Taggie was wearing the other day as she floated around her kitchen, warmth from the oven and changing months putting her in less and less and revealing more and more. How easy it would’ve been to place her atop her counter and flip up that dress, to bury his head between her thighs and taste.
He draws back his cue stick. Shoots. Misses.
“Bad luck, Rupe,” Declan states. “I thought you used to be rather good at this?”
He offers the man no more than a grunt and glance, moving to allow Declan to maneuver himself for his next shot. Rupert grabs his beer and takes a long drink, trying and failing to push the impure thoughts he’s been having of this man’s daughter from his mind.
If he knew what she called him the other day Rupert’s certain Declan would kill him.
But then again, maybe if Declan did a better job of taking care of his daughter, another man wouldn’t have to.
Declan sinks the eight ball, laughing at his own victory.
“Another round?” Declan prompts and Rupert shakes his head
“You two go ahead,” Rupert offers, polishing off his glass, “I need another.”
He leaves the men to venture across his house and to the kitchen, the sounds of his friends' conversations dwindling to nothing the further he got away. He can feel his head finally calm and he opens the door of his fridge, grabbing another beer.
“Oh!”
Rupert turns, wondering briefly if he’s drunker than he thought or this is all some elaborate dream.
“Sorry,” Taggie chuckles, airy and light, her cheeks tinged pink from the walk or nerves or both. She cradles a basket in her hand and tentatively places it on his kitchen island. “I baked too many loaves of bread and didn’t want it to go bad. I was just going to leave it here for you.”
“Without saying hello?” Rupert teases. "I thought you had better manners than that.”
His teeth ache when she gives him an answering smile, her shoulders shaking back with her laugh like she’s physically incapable of holding it inside herself.
“You left your front door open,” she fires back, “Anyone could’ve walked on in.”
“Yet the right one found her way inside, didn’t she?” he says. “And being such a good girl, bringing me treats in the night. I think the only thing I’m at risk for is...over indulgence, wouldn't you agree?”
He cracks open his beer and takes a long sip, watching her as she watches him swallow.
“Sorry, da—” she blinks. And, oh. “I didn’t want to cause any trouble between you and my father,” she settles on.
They fall into a tense staring contest, helpless to let his gaze fall to her mouth when it opens slightly. He watches as she inhales and he stalks towards her slowly, unable to look away as he does so.
“Your father is here,” Rupert confirms. “But I’m not sure that’s who you were hiding from, was it, angel?”
He stands in front of her and she doesn’t meet his eyes, nervous to play this game with him when her father is in the other room. That just won’t do and he moves his pointer finger under her chin, tilting it upwards so she’ll be forced to meet his gaze.
“Much better,” he concedes.
“Rupert—”
“I have been dreaming about the taste of your lips since you’ve last allowed me to have them,” he interrupts. “Can I kiss you, Tag? Will you let me?”
He fits her cheek in his hand and strokes along the bone, his other hand curling around her hip, bunching the fabric of her thin sweater in his grip. He aches to touch her everywhere, needs to map out each curve, each swell, every aspect she has to offer.
“My father is in the other room,” Taggie breathes.
“That’s not an answer, darling.”
“Please.”
She tries to close the distance between their mouths and as much as it pains him to do so, he holds her in place, smirking softly at her annoyed whine.
“Please, what?” he prompts. “Say it.”
It’s sick and it’s twisted but she started it after all and he needs to hear it again in that sweet little voice of hers, he needs—
“Please, daddy, kiss me.”
Perfect, he marvels. She’s perfect.
His lips are on hers before she can get herself too worked up, this needy girl, going pliant and moldable under his thumb. She’s just as delicious as he remembered, and he sighs into her mouth and feels the small curl of her tongue welcome it in. Her hands pull him impossibly closer by the firm grip she has on his shirt, her hips fit perfectly against his own, her back pressed against the island behind her.
Rupert could kiss her forever.
She’s buzzing against him, the tiniest noises slipping from her throat with each new press of her lips on his. He needs to touch her more, her breast over her shirt, her hips that are now grinding against his, her hair tousled from her walk, her ass round and pert begging to be lifted onto the counter to play out the fantasy that’s been plaguing his mind.
“Daddy,” she whines into his mouth.
He’s going to fuck her, he’s going to eat this little girl alive until she’s a sobbing mess all for him.
Rupert’s about to lift her and do just that when the sound of steps ascending towards them forces them both to freeze, hands extracting and a respectable distance forming between them almost immediately.
He watches as Taggie combs through her hair with her fingers and wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, unable to meet his eyes once again.
“Tag!” Bas exclaims. “I was wondering what was taking this one so long,” he laughs, clapping Rupert on the back. “I hope he wasn’t chatting your ear off.”
“Oh, n-no,” Taggie laughs, her cheeks aflame. She’s shaking like a leaf and Rupert clenches his fists at his sides so he doesn’t do something ridiculous like draw her into a hug. “J-just dropping off some bread, but I have to le- le-” she swallows in frustration, her eyes shutting and opening again with a deep breath. “Leave.”
“Thoughtful girl,” Bas praises. “Well come on, you,” he continues to Rupert. “Declan’s won again and we need to bring his ego down to earth. Goodnight, Tag.”
“Goodnight, Bas,” she says. She meets Rupert’s eyes and he wonders if she can see the desire he has for her there. “Rupert.”
“Taggie,” he concedes. “Thank you, again, for stopping by.”
Cordial, cold, not at all what he yearns for.
She dips her head at them both and is gone before he can say anything more, his front door clicking shut, gone as soon as she came.
He starts to walk back to the game room with Bas and feels Bas squeeze his shoulder and lean towards his ear.
“You might want to adjust yourself down there before you start playing games with her father too, mate.”
Rupert groans and feels his cock through his pants, hard and uncomfortable and begging to be buried in the warm heat of her.
“She’s not a game,” Rupert slips before he can help himself.
Bas raises an eyebrow and smirks.
“So that’s where your heads been,” Bas laughs. “You’re really in it now, huh Rupe?”
“Fuck off, Bas,” Rupert warns as they near Taggie’s father. “Not another word.”
Bas mimes locking his lips and throwing away the key but his eyes are alight with mischief.
Rupert knows he’s in trouble, but the ache that pulses under his rib cage for no longer being around this whirlwind of a woman, worries him the most.
***
When she returns home that night, frazzled and dazed and warm with want, her hand finds its way down her pants and against her clit, circling and circling in a way that’s just barely enough.
The collar of her shirt is still fresh with his cologne and she breathes it in deeply as she comes, the name she desires most hot on her tongue, aching for more.
***
He gets himself off the same night, his hand too big, his bed too empty with nothing more but the scent of her perfume and the lingering taste of her lips to send him over the edge.
***
The next time she sees him is at a party.
Thankfully this time she’s not hosting but this house is far too large, far too filled with people who want to chat and touch her and occupy her personal space. Her dress is short to combat the warm weather and she runs her palms down the skirt, hoping her backside is covered.
He’s across the room when she sees him, leaning against the doorway with a cigarette in his mouth and a hand on his hip. Someone’s talking to him, a woman, her hand on his arm but his attention isn’t on the woman at all but on her.
He takes a draw from his cigarette, his stare unwavering.
She needs a drink, she needs a drink now.
“Excuse me,” she pardons herself, unsure if the person she’d been conversing with was even listening. She finds a flute of champagne on a nearby tray and downs it, the glass rattling when she sets the empty down and picks up another.
She squeezes her way through guests and what she hopes is further away from him, drinking her champagne as she continues throughout the crowded house.
It’s been over a week since she’s seen him; some trip back to Spain she heard about on the telly that drew him from her orbit. She hates that he consumes her every thought. That on top of the chores she’s taken over at home, despite her endless cooking, making sure Caitlin stays on top of her studies, her dad doesn’t drink himself to death, keeping Gertrude fed and happy, she can’t stop thinking about the way he held her in his kitchen as he devoured her lips.
There’s another champagne flute somewhere between another stretch of hallway and finally, finally, she reaches a door to the outside where she can breathe.
She cradles her now empty glass against her chest, allowing her back to find the cool exposed brick as she shuts her eyes. Her head is swimming from the influx of alcohol and the bubbles pop in a symphony behind her eyes.
The door she so carefully shut, opens.
“There you are,” she hears. Of course it’s him, of course he found her. “It’s not like you to run away from me, Tag.”
He places a hand on her elbow and she opens her eyes to look at him, finding him slightly more blurry than normal. He plucks the glass from her hand and places it on the nearby ledge before she can let it shatter.
“I wasn’t running,” she argues. “I just needed some air. There’s like a thousand people in there.”
“A thousand, hm?” Rupert parrots with a grin.
She wonders briefly if she’s ever seen him fully smile.
“You never smile,” she voices aloud. Filters gone then, she reasons. “Except once in the kitchen with Gertrude. You smiled then, it was a lovely smile.”
He’s quiet for a moment and she worries briefly she’s annoyed him but his grin turns a little softer, sweeter for only her to see.
“Was it, now?” he teases.
He pulls at her elbow gently as he comes to stand in front of her, towering over her, always so tall, bigger and stronger and able to protect her if she ever needed. Not that she needed, she was more than capable, but it was nice to know someone could take care of her, that he could take care of her.
She allows herself to place her hands on his chest, reveling in the way he draws nearer to her. Two magnets, pushing and pulling, further and closer, collapsing together.
The party is going on inside but for once they’re blessedly alone.
“Rupert?”
He palms her cheek in his hand and she nuzzles into it, kissing the skin she can reach.
“Yes, angel?”
“I missed you,” she admits. “I know it was only a week but—”
“I missed you, too,” he interrupts. “I thought of you everyday. I think of you always.”
“You do?”
“Oh, my darling girl,” Rupert hums, drawing his mouth closer. He barely kisses her, a ghost of his lips along hers that leaves her aching. “You consume me. Your wit, your talent, that gorgeous smile of yours.”
He kisses her gently and it’s not enough, it’s never enough, she needs, she needs—
“I need—”
He kisses her deeper, drawing a moan deep from her throat. She feels a warm hand on her thigh, his hand, big and so close to the place she wants, needs, him to finally, finally touch her.
His fingers dig into her skin and she hopes it leaves a bruise, a reminder that this is happening at all.
She pulls away to steal a breath but he doesn’t stop, kissing along her jaw to her neck. She’s going to burst out of her skin, she’s going to set this entire world ablaze.
“Please, please, I need—” she tries again. She doesn’t care if she sounds desperate for him, she is.
“Daddy knows what you need, darling,” he says against her skin. His fingers move closer to the apex of her thighs and she gasps, hips canting forward. “I need to touch you, Tag. Hm? My lovely girl, can I touch you? Daddy will make it all better, I promise, love.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants.
He responds immediately, warm fingers finding the wet gusset of her underwear underneath her dress.
“All this for me, is it?” Rupert teases. He slides his fingers along her underwear, once, twice, until he’s sliding under the band of her panties, pressing against her increasing wetness head on. “Lovely little girl, all wet for her Daddy, isn’t she? Perfect, Tag, perfect little cunt. Christ, I’ve been dreaming of what you’d feel like.”
“Oh,” she whines, arching into his touch. She didn’t know it could feel like this, the rough calluses of his fingers, aged and strong, moving in such sure circles against her clit, building her closer to the edge of something she’s just barely managed to achieve herself.
He teases her entrance and she startles, holding onto his shoulders so she doesn’t topple over. He kisses her again deeply, parting her lips with his own as he pushes two of his fingers inside her.
She can taste his groan of pleasure as he begins to pump those long sure fingers inside of her, using his thumb to continue his ministrations on her clit. It’s overwhelming, it’s all consuming, and she can’t get enough.
“Christ, Rupert, daddy, I’m—”
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he prompts, nipping at her bottom lip and moving his fingers just a little rougher. She can feel herself growing closer and it’s like he knows, like already he can read her body so well. “Almost there, aren’t we, darling? You’re doing so well, you’ll take me so well, Tag, fuck.”
There’s a scream followed by a flow of laughter inside but it’s drowned out by the wet sounds of his fingers squelching inside her, the moan he releases when he finds himself impossibly deeper inside her, the gasp she lets out when she feels his hardness right above her hip.
Big, so big, she remembers what he looked like naked the very first time they met, and it’s never going to fit inside her, is it?
“I can’t,” she whines. “I can’t.”
“You can,” Rupert argues. “My good little girl, go ahead, angel, come for me, show daddy how good you are.”
It’s too much and it’s just enough and she clenches down hard on his fingers, stars bursting behind her eyes as he swallows the obscene moan she lets out with his own mouth. His tongue pets her own and she imagines what it would feel like between her legs, despite never having anyone do that to her before.
She shudders again, an aftershock to the orgasm Rupert so skillfully brought to her, grinding her hips slowly along the length of his fingers as he allows her to ride out her pleasure.
“You did so well, Tag,” Rupert praises. He gives her a warm kiss to her cheek, using his free hand to rub soothing circles at the base of her spine. “You were perfect, truly, and I’ll be hard pressed to ever forget how wonderful your little cunt feels.”
“Jesus, Rupert.”
His answering laugh fills her heart and she squirms slightly when he finally removes himself from inside her. She watches in a daze as he lifts his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean, smirking as he does so.
“I knew you’d be sweet,” he says when he’s done. His eyes are sparkling in the low outside lighting and she blinks up at him rapidly in awe. She can feel how hard he is and she’s certain he’d want the same relief she felt. Despite her inexperience with this, she makes a move to grab him over his trousers but he grips her wrist before she can get too far. “Not here darling, another time perhaps.”
“You don’t want—” she starts with a tremble.
“Of course I want,” he interrupts. “I’ll always want from you. But not here, and not when you look like you’re about to fall over.”
She didn’t realize she was swaying slightly on her feet and how heavy her eyelids were, the alcohol and the orgasm keeping her entire body warm. Rupert’s kept her upright, kept her from falling. And maybe she wouldn’t normally allow herself to rest so easily, that she’d find the strength to return to the party, to get herself home, because she knows she could do it but there’s something so appealing about knowing she doesn’t have to.
She moves forward and nuzzles her nose into his neck, allowing her eyes to close. Safe, always so safe with a man that really shouldn’t be.
“Sleepy girl,” Rupert tsks. “Let’s get you home, shall we?”
She hums against him in acknowledgment and feels her legs being scooped up from under her so that he can carry her against his chest, a paternal kiss to her forehead sending her off.
***
Getting her home is a blur, thankful his driver has always been discreet, remaining silent as Taggie rests her head on his shoulder the entire drive, sleeping soundly against him.
It pains him to lay her in her own bed after carrying her up the stairs, wishing more than anything she was spread out across his sheets back home.
“Will you make love to me?” she mumbles tiredly, reaching for him blindly and just barely gripping the front of his shirt.
“Oh darling, I want nothing more,” he promises. But she’s half asleep and more than a little buzzed. He needs to savor her, plans to bed her for hours, not for a few minutes when he’s not even certain she’d remember. “When you’re a little less sleepy, how’s that sound?”
“But—”
“But nothing,” he says. He pries her small hands from his shirt, kissing the tips of her fingers with a smile when she whines in protest. “When I properly have you for the first time, I intend to have you for many, many times.” Forever, even.
“Promise?” she asks, eyes already closed.
He laughs.
“Yes, angel, I promise.”
Her answering smile is dazzling, sleepy and cozy and what he aches to wake up to each morning.
“Okay, Daddy,” she hums, settling back into her pillows. His heart pounds and the tips of his ears burn, thinking this girl may very well be the death of him. “Thank you for bringing me home.”
“Of course, darling, sweet dreams.”
He presses a lingering kiss to her brow before he can bear to leave his girl. Rupert’s quiet down the steps, careful not to wake Taggie’s sister but as he moves to leave he hears snoring from the living room that he didn’t notice on his way in.
He peers into the room to see Declan half sat up in a chair, asleep with a whiskey bottle still curled in his hand. Rupert shakes his head and a quick glance to the kitchen, the state of it, the mess he knows Taggie didn’t make but will spend all morning cleaning anyway, makes him pause.
Rupert sighs and shakes his head, rolling up his sleeves as he enters the room, a symphony of snores serving as his only partner as he readies the room for Taggie tomorrow.
***
She loses track after that, how many times she’s let that word slip, either on accident or on purpose.
Taggie isn’t sure when RupertDaddyRupertDaddy became all tangled together in her mind, that these roles of friend, lover, protector, father, became all one in the same to encapture the role he’s taken over in her life.
She could blame it on her mother for leaving, but she knows how things were before her grand exit. That her mother may love her but Taggie had been shouldering responsibilities of the household for far longer than should have been allowed. She could also blame it on her father for simply never being there to help. That when her mother did cheat, and spiral, and neglect, that he wasn’t there to pick up the pieces of their family, only found it in him to keep himself afloat.
She could blame it on these things.
But Taggie knows that it wouldn’t be this way with another person, certainly not with Ralph or Seb, two boys compared to the man she now desired. It wasn’t even that Rupert was just a man either, it was the way he took care of her, the competency he held in comparison to the others in her life that seemed to lack it.
He helped because he wanted to, he took care because he wanted to, when Taggie never had any help from anyone at all.
Rupert felt solid, an unwavering thousand year old oak bearing a storm. She knows she’s naive, that he very well might be bedding other women. They’re labeless and he has a history but this feels different, it feels special.
Things have been crazy with the franchise lately, pitch meetings and dinners with investors, gathering employees and getting Cameron’s visa sorted now that the option of marrying Rupert was out of the question. The relief she had felt would have been embarrassing if Rupert didn’t seem to share the very same sentiment as her. The thought of him being tied to someone else like that, she didn’t even want to go down that rabbit hole.
They spend time together when they can but it all feels fleeting, rushed hellos in the mornings and stolen kisses when no one is around. Tired goodnights in the evenings and soft touches wherever each party can reach.
Thankfully the next day she only has a small brunch for some local women so she should be home early afternoon. She’s daydreaming about the time she’s going to spend aimlessly walking outside with Gertrude when Rupert flies into her kitchen, followed closely by her father.
“Tag, you know where I put my novel,” her father rushes, “The one with the—” he waves a hand, stalking towards the living room. “Ah, nevermind, I’m sure I’ll—Rupert give me a minute, will you?”
And then he’s gone as quickly as he came, the sounds of things being thrown about in the other room as her father searches for whatever book he’s looking for.
“Big plans tonight?” Taggie asks.
Rupert hums, walking towards her with a glance to the living area before returning his eyes to her, a small private smile on his face.
“Unfortunately the man we’re meeting for drinks has a large wallet and an even larger appetite for Mary Shelley stories.”
“Ah,” Taggie says. “I think Cait has them up in her room.”
She makes a move to shout this information to her father but Rupert places a hand on her forearm, halting her.
“Let’s leave him for a bit, hm?”
His eyes sparkle with desire and she flushes slightly, standing on the tips of her toes to kiss him. It’s chaste and not nearly enough, but all she can do is run her nose along his as she draws away.
“What are you doing tomorrow night?” Rupert asks.
Taggie tilts her head and shrugs.
“Nothing for once,” she laughs. “Why? Please don’t tell me you need me to go canvassing again.”
“No,” Rupert replies, lifting her hand to his lips and placing a kiss along the back of her knuckles. “I want you in my bed, Agatha.”
“Oh.”
Normally she hates being called her full name, but the sound of it from his voice has her stomach doing a summersault inside of her.
“So? Is that a yes, darling?” he prompts. “I’ll cook for you. It won’t be nearly as good as anything you could make but I promise it’ll be edible,” he glances to the living room and then back to her, lowering his voice an octave, “And then I’d like to taste that pretty cunt of yours and stuff you full. Does that sound alright to you?”
Taggie swallows and flushes all over, smacking him halfheartedly on the chest with the back of her hand.
“Rupert,” she scolds.
“Well?”
His smile is teasing but she knows him well enough now that she can see the way he’s holding his breath in anticipation of her response. She wonders if he’s actually nervous she might turn him down, as if she didn’t want to, as if she didn’t want him.
“Found it!” her father calls. Taggie takes a respectable step backwards before he can enter the room. He waves the novel proudly in the air as he exits through the front of the house, calling Rupert after him.
He moves but Taggie reaches for his wrist, halting him before he can leave her so quickly. Rupert meets her eyes, breath still held and just shy of hopeful and Taggie, she aches.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” she manages, squeezing once before releasing her grip. Rupert’s answering grin makes her knees buckle and she has to steady herself with a hand on the kitchen counter.
“Tomorrow, then.”
He bids her farewell with a dip of his head and Taggie closes her eyes for a minute and exhales.
***
The house is spotless and yet Rupert cleans.
The kitchen is prepared with the food he needs for their dinner, the bed stripped and washed and made just to be ruined, the floors shining, the ceiling free of dust.
He’s nervous.
Rupert doesn’t think he has to be, her emotions have been clear for him to read on her face ever since their first kiss. Like the act allowed him to truly see what was written for him to decode.
He wants everything to be perfect. She deserves for things to be perfect.
And so it will be.
***
They don’t make it to dinner at all.
***
Taggie was ready to play the part, to allow herself to relax and be fed, to have a meal with Rupert and then, only then, let him make love to her.
It takes one look at him and the realization that once his front door closes and they’re met with nothing but silence, that they’re alone.
Rupert reaches behind her, hand barely brushing against her forearm and the door locks with a deafening click, ensuring for once that there will be no threat of an interruption.
She watches the column of Rupert’s neck as he swallows, unmoving, waiting, for what she’s not sure.
She’d let him ravish her right there against the door, she wants him to ravish her right there, she’s so tired of waiting.
Taggie’s not proud of the way she pounces, but the look of surprise on Rupert’s face is definitely worth it, more so when his arms wrap around her like a brand and his mouth meets hers with a knee-shaking groan.
She’ll never get over the way he kisses her, how each time it lights every part of her body on fire, the tightness of his hold on her, the way he tries to mold himself into her.
Taggie allows herself to grip the hairs at the bottom of his head, lush and warm and he turns in time with her movements, tongue teasing her own.
Her back hits the door with a thump and she’s reminded of the first time he touched her. She wonders if he’s going to finger her again, she’s been dreaming of it ever since he did it to her that night.
“Tag,” he says, pulling away with a groan. His hands frame her hips, holding her in place when she chases after him, only getting as far as to nip along his jaw. “Slow down, darling, I have—we should do this properly. Dinner, then—”
“No,” Taggie whines, surprising them both. “We can eat later, I want—Daddy, I need you now, please.”
“Fucking hell,” he grits, kissing her hard on the mouth. “I guess Daddy can have his dessert first then.”
“Wha—”
Rupert drops to his knees so quickly she’s surprised they didn’t crack on the hardwood floor. Her dress is flipped up and her underwear is pulled down her legs and before she can even react, a ‘finally’ is leaving Rupert’s mouth before it’s on her.
“Jesus —Oh, fuck.”
His tongue is as wicked as she imagined, lapping at her like a man starved. He forces her thigh over his shoulder, licking around and then teasing at her clit with sure, practiced movements. She moans loudly, fisting Rupert’s hair in her hand, not to guide but to simply hold on.
There’s no warning when two of his fingers enter her and she gasps, a desperate, embarrassing whine following shortly after that has Rupert chuckling against her cunt.
“M’sorry,” Taggie cries. “No one’s ever—it’s too much.”
Rupert pulls away from her with a wet ‘pop’ while he continues to pump his fingers inside of her.
“No one’s ever tasted you?” Rupert questions. “I thought you weren’t a virgin?”
“I’m not, but—”
“Stupid boys,” Rupert mutters. He kisses her clit again, licking and circling, working the bud over and over in a way that makes her head spin. “To see this cunt at all and not demand to taste it. Christ, Tag, never again.”
Taggie isn’t completely sure what that means, distracted when she feels Rupert’s fingers spread open and his tongue go inside her.
She’d heard other women whisper about being eaten out but nothing could have prepared her for this.
“I’m gonna —Daddy, m’gonna—”
He groans into her pussy, licking upwards to bring his attention back to her clitoris. He’s relentless against her, licking and sucking, the depths of her whines growing needer and needer, higher and desperate, begging him not to stop.
Her thigh clenches involuntarily around his head, pulling him impossibly closer but he takes it in stride, not letting up one bit until she’s careening over the edge.
“Fuck, Rupert, fuck.”
He licks her through each wave of her orgasm, everything sensitive and making her squirmy. He holds her in place though with a strong arm around her stomach, forcing her to continue to take. She didn’t think she could feel so much pleasure and her head dizzies as she feels another orgasm flood through her before the first truly even ended.
She sighs out his name again, that one, the other one, all of them, her brain fried in complete ecstasy.
Rupert gives her a parting lick before he bites at her thigh, soothing it with his tongue when she lets out a sharp gasp.
He lets her dress fall down to cover her and she blinks rapidly when he presses a kiss right above her navel. Rupert stands finally, looking as pleased as she feels, holding both her cheeks in his palms. Like she’s something precious and meant to be handled with the utmost of care.
“I’m going to fuck you now, Tag,” he tells her. His voice is rough and his lips are shining and all Taggie can do is nod. He mimics it, offering her a small smile.
“Y-you don’t suppose we could do that in a bed, do you?” she manages.
Rupert grins in full, one of those rare smiles that she can’t help but return. He’s beautiful like this and she wonders how she’s even with him here now at all. He kisses her nose, her cheek, and then she’s being lifted like a bride on her wedding night.
“Whatever the lady desires,” Rupert promises.
It’s you, she thinks helplessly.
All I desire is you.
***
He has never been in love.
But if he were to imagine what it could feel like he’s sure it would feel exactly like this.
***
She thought she was in love once.
It’s nothing compared to this.
***
Her dress is the first to go.
As cute as it is he needs to see her, is rewarded immediately by her bare chest, flushed all over, nervous, despite being the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen in his life.
He runs the back of his knuckles along her raised nipple, bottling up the gasp of surprise she lets out. He doesn’t know where to start with her, he’s ruined women so completely but he wants to stitch her whole. Keep her full, satisfied, happy.
“Rupert…”
“Yes, angel?”
“Are you going to—” she swallows. “I’ve never really—How do you want me?”
“Lovely girl,” he coos. He trails the tips of his fingers along her hips, stroking her gently as he does when calming a skittish horse. “Let me take care of you. I don’t want you to think at all.”
“I’m not a nitwit,” she bites, all soft fire he aims to soothe.
“I know that, darling,” he promises. He kisses her then, relieved when he feels her begin to melt against his mouth. “But it can be nice to not have to decide. Let daddy take care of you.”
He likes the way her eyes glaze when he says that, likes it even better when he finally gets her lying naked in his bed.
There’s been a lot of women in here with him, but none of them have ever felt quite near as important.
He undoes the buttons of his shirt, unable to look anywhere but her eyes, drinking her in as she does the same to him.
“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” he teases, shucking his shirt somewhere behind him. He loses his trousers as well and fails to smother his smirk when her eyes widen at the sight of his hardened cock.
“That wasn’t the same,” she tries to joke. It’s more breathless than anything but he feels her next inhale when he slides over her body, his torso pressing against her own, his arms bracketing each side of her head.
Rupert kisses her, he doesn’t ever want to stop kissing her now that he’s been granted permission to start. He’s never tasted anyone sweeter, lips, skin, cunt, all of them perfect.
He thinks of that wet little cunt underneath him and knows he needs to taste it again, kissing his way down her body.
“Again?” he hears Taggie ask, a small gasp leaving her lips when he licks the still-wet lips of her pussy. “B-but I thought—”
“What did I say about thinking, love?”
Her groan of annoyance quickly turns into one of pleasure as he begins to lap at her again. She’s squirmy at this new sensation and some sick part of him is glad he’s the first to ever have her like this. He knows whichever boy she let bed her that first time would’ve been clueless on how to pleasure her like this.
A sicker part of him wishes there had been no other boys at all, that he would have every part of her so completely.
“Daddy, you feel so good,” she whines.
He moans, knowing it doesn’t matter.
That this, from her, it’s everything.
Rupert’s fingers find their home inside her, stretching this time in preparation for what’s to come. She takes three like a dream and knows she’ll take his cock just as well. Perfect in every way this girl, his girl, is.
“Come on, Agatha,” he coaxes against her cunt. “Give me another, darling. That’s a girl.”
“Fuck.”
She clenches down on his fingers roughly and he swears, licking her through another orgasm. He’s sure he’ll never get tired of this, of the way Taggie can’t seem to control her body, these involuntary movements of pleasure, so at odds with the girl always in control.
He bites at both her hips as he ascends up her body, hard enough to leave twin angry red marks behind. Something he plans to see tomorrow morning, and to make more of each day after that. He kisses each of her breasts, gives them not at all the attention they deserve because he needs to be buried inside her as of yesterday.
Later, he reasons. This isn’t the only time he’ll have her, he’ll make sure of it.
Her arm is thrown over her eyes to cover them, her hair fanned out on his pillows behind her, ever the angel before him.
His cock catches at her entrance and she gasps, back arching off the bed.
“Not like this, darling, let me—” he says, prying her arm from her eyes. “I need to look at you.”
He cradles her wrist in his hand and guides it to his head, groaning when she tugs. Normally he likes to watch as he enters a woman, but Taggie is already looking at him and he finds himself a prisoner to her gaze.
Rupert needs to memorize the part of her lips at the first push of his cock inside of her. The red staining her cheeks, flushed and gorgeous, her eyes sparkling and looking at him like he’s hung the goddamn moon for her. This trust she has for him spelled out so clearly on every feature, growing until he finds himself completely buried in the wet heat of her.
He strokes her face, brushing the stray hairs away, trying not to tremble completely when she adjusts her hips beneath him. Her thighs skirt against his sides and he grips one, pulling it up towards her as he begins to move inside her.
“O-oh,” she gasps.
She takes him as he imagined she would, a perfect fit, wet and warm and a part of him feels like she was made just for this, made just for him.
His thrusts are shallow, reserved, slower than he’s ever gone when he’s first had a woman. She had asked him to make love to her, is this what that was? Is this what he was feeling?
“Tag,” he manages.
His words have lost him and all he can do is try to burrow himself inside her until there’s nothing left. She is the start and end of everything. Hands on his hair, his back, her hips, her face, her breasts, her thighs, everything, anything, no longer certain where one begins and the other ends.
This is his church.
She is his salvation.
***
He’s ruined her for anyone else.
She’s not sure if she’ll be able to survive without this, him, the way he feels inside her, the way he fucks her.
It’s poor taste to compare, but Rupert fills every inch of her, every space within her until she’s been completely consumed by him.
He told her to let him take control but she knows she’s desperate for it and it’s worth the moan she earns when she begins grinding back against his cock, fucking him as he’s fucking her.
“Minx,” Rupert swears. He meets her with a particularly rough thrust of his own that has the air rushing out of her lungs. “You’re taking me so well, angel. Needy little girl with the perfect cunt, you’re a dream, Tag, perfect.”
He pushes both her thighs towards her chest, his shoulders holding them in place as he begins to drive into her. She had wondered what this felt like when she caught him fucking that woman all those months ago, but this is nothing her imagination and hand could ever conjure up.
“Tell me, Tag,” Rupert breathes, lips skirting against her cheek. “Tell me how my little girl feels to have her daddy inside her.”
“Fuck,” Taggie moans. It’s wrong, it’s everything. “S’good, daddy it’s so good. You feel—I’m—you’re inside me.”
“That’s right, angel,” Rupert agrees, pubic bone pushing against her own. “Daddy’s inside you. Daddy’s never going to stop being inside you.”
She grips his shoulder tightly, her whine sending a flush over her entire body. Rupert bites at her ear, the sound of their bodies joining, mixing with his rough breath.
“Daddy’s going to come inside you,” he promises. “But I need to feel you come first, can you do that for me? Show me how good you are, Tag, be a good girl for me, I know you can. My smart, special girl, fuck,” his fingers somehow find her clit and she clenches around his cock, earning a moan from him, “There we go, almost there, aren’t you, angel? You can do it, darling, just a little more, hm?”
It takes no less than two skilled turns of his fingers for Taggie to do exactly what he’s asked, gripping any part of him she can reach and hanging on as he fucks her through what’s she’s sure is the best orgasm of her life.
She paws at his face, forcing his eyes to meet hers because she wants to, needs to see him when he comes inside her. She can’t find her words but nods, edging him forward until she feels him fill her.
His smile is beautiful but this is something else entirely. This unfiltered bliss that she tucks away into the deepest corners of her heart for only her to hold.
“Jesus, Tag,” Rupert breathes, stroking her cheek. “You’re magnificent.”
“Y-yeah?”
“Yes, darling, truly, in every way.”
“I know,” she swallows, gathering her words. “I know you’ve been with a lot of other women but—”
“Tag,” Rupert interrupts gently. His eyes search hers before he kisses her, somehow more intimate than the fact that he’s still inside her. “You’re the one in my bed, Agatha, the only one. I’d like to continue having you and, well, being with you. If you’ll have me.”
She wraps her hand around his wrist, anchoring herself as he continues to stroke her cheek.
“I don’t— I don’t want to share,” she manages.
“Neither do I.”
She’s not sure what this means, to not only warm Rupert Campbell-Black’s bed but to, what, date him? She wasn’t sure he was capable. Was she?
Taggie runs a hand along his chest to feel the breath she knew he’d be holding.
“I want to be with you,” she decides. “Please don’t break my heart.”
“Only if you promise not to break mine, angel.”
Taggie nods, closing the gap between their mouths to kiss him soundly. There’s so many complications that come with starting this, her family, his job, the press. All of it. But right here, right now in this bed with him, none of that matters.
She was his the moment he allowed himself to be had.
Taggie only hopes he wants to keep her just as badly.
***
He does.
fin.