The Enforcer's Sister

Chapter Four: Jessica -Wild Cat

At the tender age of ten, I found myself perpetually in the shadows, following my mother's every step. I was exposed to a disturbing incident where I observed my mother engage in reprehensible acts. I saw her drug, sexually assault, and steal from one of the guests staying at the hotel where she was employed. From that point on, I became acutely aware of her manipulative tactics, witnessing how she utilized flirtation, manipulation, and exploitative relationships as a means to escape the perils of hunger and homelessness. 

My childhood was characterized by a lack of material possessions. I grew up without any knowledge or connection to my father, and the subject of his absence was a topic we intentionally avoided. Throughout my upbringing, it was just my mother and me, navigating life's challenges together. While some people may have labeled my mother as belonging to a socioeconomically disadvantaged group otherwise known as white trash, she had managed to secure a relationship with Victor Donovan, even if it was only for appearances. 

I have no idea how my mother met Victor Donovan but I recalled the day our little apartment was invaded by men who are bent on extracting information from my mother. They'd beaten and raped her and even I was not spared. 

My fists clenched as the scene replayed in my head in a fleeting flash, large, sweaty men taking turns on my mother. I was thirteen.  With the promise to return they’d left. My mother took care of me, she made me soak in hot, salty water, repeatedly telling me it was going to be fine. 

The following day, a man arrived to escort us to meet with Victor Donovan. Memories of our initial encounter flooded my mind, vividly recalling the striking image he presented: a towering figure, with lustrous dark hair, broad shoulders that seemed to defy logic, and impeccably dressed in a suit that undoubtedly cost a fortune. A contingent of around ten men surrounded him, clearly emphasizing his significance and authority.

I was whisked away, unable to partake in the conversation that transpired between my mother and Victor Donovan. However, from that moment onward, he graciously provided us with shelter, sparing us the need to return to our modest apartment. My mother ceased her work in hotels, and I found solace in our newfound abode. The grandeur of the house enveloped us, offering a sense of security I had never experienced before. It was a sanctuary I yearned to remain in, never desiring to depart its comforting embrace.

One night, with the house enveloped in slumber, I stealthily ventured toward Victor Donovan's chamber. My meticulous observation of the house staff and guards had revealed the opportune moment for me to proceed. Finally, I arrived at the entrance to Victor Donovan's room, its grandeur beckoning me inside. As I pushed open the weighty door, I stepped into an expanse of opulence unparalleled by any previous encounter. The room exudes luxury in every detail, from the intricately carved furnishings to the sparkling chandeliers that adorned the ceiling.

Victor Donovan lay peacefully on his bed, his powerful presence emanating even in slumber, his sheer size commanding attention. His sculpted torso was exposed, its masculine contours discernible beneath the delicate sheets. With a graceful descent to my knees, my eyes fixated on his tranquil form, and there, beneath the layers of fabric, I could sense the pulsating presence of his desire. 

Being my mother's daughter, I possessed a deep understanding of the male physique and what stimulates their desires. As I carefully peeled back the sheets, a sense of anticipation filled the room. Gradually, I unveiled his chiseled physique, savoring each moment. My gaze fixated on his growing arousal, pulsating with desire between his legs. With deliberate movements, I gracefully removed my dress. Reaching out for him, I delicately caressed the broad tip with my lips, moistening it with my warm saliva. A gratifying moan escaped Victor Donovan's lips, a familiar indication of pleasure I had learned from previous encounters. Firmly grasping his shaft, I skillfully pumped and took him deeper into my mouth, savoring the sensations that engulfed us both.

"What... Jessica? What are you doing?" he gasped, raising his head from the pillow. I didn't falter; instead, I held his gaze and emulated my mother's seductive smile. "Holy hell!" he groaned, sinking back onto the pillows. I straddled him, firmly grasping his ankle, and continued pleasuring him. The room resonated with his moans. 

At that moment, I felt victorious, believing that I had succeeded in driving him to the point of no return. As I tasted his release, I eagerly attempted to impale myself on him, but he halted my movements. "No, Jessica. That's enough. You've had your fun," he asserted, reaching out to me, his grip firm on my forearm. Confusion and desperation welled up within me. What had I done wrong? He had moaned, he had seemed to enjoy it! Would he now kick us out because of my misstep? Leaning over him, I presented a wavering smile, attempting to conceal my fear.

"What is it, old man? Don't you like them young?"

"Jessica, this is not appropriate," he admonished, his voice strained. But I maintained my grip around his engorged shaft, teasingly pressing my breasts against his chest as I positioned myself above him. With deliberate slowness, I guided his broad tip along the slickness of my wet pussy. I saw him swallow hard and a surge of triumph rushed through me. "You are too young," he rasped. 

"I'm sixteen, and I can assure you I'm far from being a virgin," I whispered seductively, locking my gaze with his.

"Damn it to hell…." he exclaimed as I straddled him and guided him inside me. "Jess…." 

"Yes, Daddy," I taunted playfully, noticing a dark glimmer in his eyes.

"Be careful," he warned, his voice low and raw. I continued to move slowly, observing his lashes flutter as I straddled him. The grip on my forearm tightened, almost bruising, but I paid no heed. Gradually, I picked up the pace, suppressing the overwhelming pleasure that surged through me. The sensation of riding Victor Donovan filled me with a potent sense of power.

Eventually, he ceased his attempts to resist, seizing my hips and guiding my movements in sync with his own. The rhythm he set was neither gentle nor rough, and for the first time, I experienced genuine pleasure from the penetration. His thumb tantalizingly teased my clit, and our gazes locked as he thrust into me. He persisted until I reached my first climax, leaving me shaken and gasping for breath.

Suddenly, he forcefully flipped me over, pressing me face down onto the bed and pinning me down. With a firm grip on my wrists, he controlled my movements, his other hand firmly gripping my hips. The details became hazy, but the echoes of my pleasure-filled cries reverberated through the hallways. Victor Donovan thoroughly ravished me, and I savored every minute of our encounter.

Afterward, he rose from the bed and casually walked towards the connected bathroom. With a nonchalant tone, he uttered, "I almost regret having asked your mother to marry me, it would have been fun to have a wildcat in my bed every night. But your mother is equally good. Help yourself out Jessica and don't speak a word of this to anyone."

My sense of triumph quickly crumbled when I realized my mother had acted faster than me. I seethed with anger. Growling like a wounded cat.

Several weeks later, my mother's wedding to Victor took place in his living room, with a judge and one of his guards as witnesses. That evening, I stumbled upon my mother in the woods, smoking and tears staining her pale face. It was then that I discovered Victor had manipulated my mother into signing some papers, leaving her with no rights or claims to anything he owned. He had achieved his victory—he had won my mother and me as his playthings for as long as he lived.

Driven by my newfound motivation, I became deeply invested in meeting Victor's only son, Archer Donovan. He had been on an extensive trip, conquering territories on behalf of his father. I seduced every piece of information I could from the guards I had entangled myself with. However, my online search for Archer yielded no results; it was as if the heir to the Donovan empire was nothing more than a myth. 

But one fateful night, while standing on the balcony of my room, I witnessed a breathtakingly beautiful man emerge from the pool in the far corner of the west wing of the estate. He stood there, completely naked, and my heart skipped a beat. Though he was alone, I was introduced to Archer Donovan from a distance as he engaged in a passionate encounter with a girl on the pool grounds. 

Even from where I stood, I could hear her cries of pleasure. I found myself drenched with desire, yearning to be in her place. I was willing to do anything to make that happen. Through my investigations, I discovered that she was his college girlfriend, which gave her an advantage—she had attended college, unlike me. She possessed beauty, but so did I. It was the one positive trait I inherited from my mother.

Before Archer's return to the estate, Victor Donovan always dined alone. He never shared his meals with my mother or me. Therefore, I assumed that now that his son had come home, he might consider introducing us, at the very least. I woke up earlier than necessary, dressed up, and headed downstairs, timing my arrival to coincide with when Victor would be preparing for breakfast. However, as I neared the entrance to the dining room, I encountered four guards stationed there. Disregarding them, I proceeded toward them, but they quickly formed a human barrier, blocking my path.

"Mr. Donovan is having breakfast with the boss," one of the guards informed me.

"Yeah, duh, get out of my way," I retorted, annoyed.

"Sorry, Miss, he instructed us not to allow anyone to disturb them."

I despised his condescending tone. It served as a stark reminder of the insignificance my mother and I held in Victor's eyes. Determined to make him see me differently, I reached for the gun concealed in the guard's waistband and pressed it against his stomach. Standing uncomfortably close to him, I whispered, "Move out of my way, or your friends will be cleaning your guts off Victor's marble floor."

The guard swallowed hard, growing pale, his eyes widening in surprise. Just then, the door swung open, revealing Archer standing on the other side. His hazel eyes met mine with an icy stare.

"You must be Jessica," he stated, his voice deep and low—a mesmerizing baritone that exuded both sexuality and a chilling aura.

"Hello, brother," I greeted, flashing him a wide smile. "We finally meet."

"Hmm…" Victor Donovan's voice resonated from behind Archer. "Threatening my guards is both unladylike, Jessica, and dangerous."

"He was in my way, Daddy," I replied, redirecting my gaze toward Victor. I noticed a nerve twitch in his neck, and his eyes darkened with a dangerous intensity.

"Join us then," Archer invited a subtle tug at the corner of his lips. His expression remained stoic, making it difficult for me to gauge his true intentions. I realized at that moment that Archer Donovan was not his father, Victor Donovan, and I needed to tread carefully.

In the nights that followed, my dreams were consumed by the passionate encounters with Archer Donovan. It was frustrating to have him so close, yet unattainable. Seeking solace from Victor was no longer an option; my mother always had her grip on him. But I cornered him in the elevator one time, like a wild cat, I went on my knees, unzipping him, he didn’t try to stop me. His eyes were cold and soulless, but I didn’t let that get to me. My lips spread in a triumphant smile when he let out a grunt as I  wrapped my fingers around his aroused shaft and put him in my mouth. He grabbed me by the shoulders, scooped me up, and slammed my back to the steel walls as he fucked me. My triumphant laugh soon turned into strangled moans.

Consequently, I resorted to stalking Archer's girlfriend, meticulously gathering information about her until I discovered a vulnerable moment to corner her alone. She worked as a paralegal in a prestigious law firm and resided in a charming apartment located in Brook County's affluent district. Every morning at around 5 a.m., she would go for a run before heading to the office. Archer would send a car to pick her up three times a week—on Monday night, Wednesday, and Friday. On those nights, her moans of pleasure would echo in my mind, intensifying my determination to eliminate her. 

Four weeks after Archer's return, I set out early in the morning, searching for his little plaything. I patiently waited for her to leave her apartment and silently trailed behind her. Oblivious to my presence, she provided no resistance as I caught up to her, pressing the gun to her head and pulling the trigger. She crumpled to the ground like a discarded rag. "Archer is my future, and you were standing in my way," I muttered coldly, observing the pool of blood forming beneath her lifeless face. Her widened, lifeless eyes bore the shock of her abrupt demise.

She was my first victim, and surprisingly, it shook me to my core. But I knew it had to be done. Eventually, Victor Donovan's empire would pass on to Archer, and I was determined to be the woman by his side. 

Returning to the estate, I patiently waited for the opportune moment to approach Archer. Two days after eliminating his previous companion, I ventured towards his part of the property, hoping to find him alone. The entire place was engulfed in darkness and silence. I had observed his arrival a few minutes earlier, so I knew he should be there. However, there was no sign of life. Just as I was about to retreat, a faint moan emerged from the nearby woods, capturing my attention and redirecting my gaze. 

In the dim light, I glimpsed the silhouettes of two figures: a woman bent over and a larger figure thrusting from behind. My heart tightened. I was certain it was Archer, but I couldn't discern the identity of the woman he was with. I concealed myself, determined to discover her identity. Anger surged within me as I listened to him engaging in intimate acts with another woman. Was he not supposed to be grieving for his deceased lover? 

It soon became clear that Archer Donovan was insatiable, indulging in a string of casual encounters. I was resolute in taming him and making him mine. The following night, I joined him during one of his nude swimming sessions. Capturing his attention, I shed my clothes and entered the pool. He froze, observing my approach. Standing closely, I reached out as if to grasp his manhood. In a swift reflex, he seized my wrist. My chest heaved with a mixture of fear, anticipation, and desire. 

"I've noticed you watching, trailing me," he uttered, raising his free hand to trace his fingers along my skin, sending shivers and an electrifying thrill through my veins. I breathed softly through parted lips as his touch teased my erect nipples, gliding down my abdomen, and between my legs. He drew closer, gently caressing my intimate area, sliding a finger inside me, then another, and another. I gasped as he leaned towards my ear and added, "All you had to do was tell me you wanted to fuck, little sister. No games, no lurking in the shadows."

I had experienced some level of control with Victor Donovan, but with Archer, it was a different story altogether. He was rough, distant, and merciless. He forcefully pushed me against the pool wall and took me from behind. Tears welled up in my eyes as conflicting emotions swirled within me. The power he held over me was both terrifying and disarming. My desire went beyond the Donovan empire; I craved Archer in every way, body, and soul. I wanted him more than anything, and I was willing to eliminate anyone who stood in my path. His naive nurse had no clue what she was about to face. If I caught even a hint of Archer becoming entangled with her, she would find herself buried beneath the rose garden, where Archer's late mother held her most cherished flowers.