Page 26 of Dragonfly

Fool me, I believed him, too.

Now I’m on my knees in front of the man I hate most in this world. His cock is in my hand, the taste of his skin is in my mouth, and his knife is millimeters away from slitting my throat.

“My devious bride… you might be sucking your husband’s cock right now, but if I lose my grip on this blade for even a second, you’d kill me. Wouldn’t you?”

I would—and I hope he knows it.

Damien shifts the knife, using the flat of the cool blade to trace the edge of my jaw. He’s not cutting me, though, and as if it’ll save me, I tighten my grip and pump him a little harder.

“That’s what I thought. So maybe I put this away.” He slips it back into the holster, high enough that it’s out of my reach while I’m on the floor. “And you go back to satisfying your new husband. Yes?”

“You know that this will only make me want you dead more,” I say, rubbing the head against my bottom lip before I dart out my tongue, swirling it around the tip.

Damien blows a breath of air through his nose. “Sì. Oh, yes. I know. But it’ll be worth your wrath, ragna mia, to know I had you on your knees on our wedding night.”

In that case…

I twist my wrist again, stroking Damien from root to tip before answering him by lowering my head and swallowing as much of his erection as I can.

He wants me to satisfy him? Fine.

I’m not above using sex to control this man if I have to. And whatever happens after this, I don’t think he cares.

His hand goes the back of my head, guiding me to bob up and down on the length of his cock. If he started to piston his hips just a little, he’d be straight-up fucking my mouth. He doesn’t do that, though. Oh, no. If he did, he couldn’t convince himself that I want to blow him. The mafia leader is going to stand as still as he can, threading his fingers through my hair as I do my best to make him come.

I’m distracted. I’ll admit it. So focused on making Damien lose control, I don’t notice that someone has opened the door and walked into the room with us until I hear a female voice shriek, “Damien? Oh, God, Damien.”

From my position, I can just about make out a blonde woman—that blonde woman—before she spins around and dashes out the door.

It slams shut behind her, and I immediately try to pull away from him.

His fingers are tangled in my hair, pinning me in place for a few seconds before he sighs and lets go of me.

Damien is still hard. His cock his engorged at the head, and I can tell from the way his upper body goes tight that he was seconds away from blowing his load when we were interrupted.

That makes me irrationally happy even if I had to be caught in such a position first.

I swipe the corners of my mouth with the back of my hand as he paces a little, his dick still out. “Um. Who was that?”

He doesn’t answer me.

I persist. “Your wife?—”

He spins on his heel, cock leading the fucking way. “You are my wife, Savannah.”

That’s what he thinks. “But your… your girlfriend?—”

“Not my girlfriend.”

She’s something.

“I’ve seen her before. She’s?—”

It’s like a chill comes over him. The hint of temper recedes, and he’s back to the faux charming bastard I’ve seen a million times before.

“Not anyone I’ll ever be intimate with,” he says, moving until he’s back in front of me again. “And now that I’ve chosen you to be my bride, I won’t be fucking anyone else ever again. Like I told you before, that makes it your responsibility to satisfy me tonight. So,” he grips his slick cock by the base, angling it toward me, “I’d appreciate it if you’d get back to what you were doing.”

Has he lost his mind?

---