Page 60 of His Kingdom

“Mmm?”

“I think we should make this marriage official. Consummate it,” I tell him.

“I think that’s the best idea you’ve had since you saidyesto marrying me.” He flips us over so I’m on my back again.

My wetness coats my inner thighs. I’m so turned on right now, so ready for him. I’ve always liked sex. But sex with Louie? I love it. I need it. He makes me feel like no one else ever has.

His hands slip underneath my ass, cupping my cheeks. “Fuck, I love your ass. Mine. I should tattoo my name all over it,” he says, as his fingers hook under the edge of my panties. He pulls them down my legs before tossing them over a shoulder.

Then he shrugs out of his shirt before he undoes his pants, freeing his cock. I can never stop staring at it. It’s fucking huge. I’m surprised it even fits, to be honest. But his size is also the reason my vagina is so sore afterwards. That and the way Louie fucks me as if he’s a starved animal and I’m his last meal.

“I can’t wait any longer. I need to be in you now, Charlotte.”

“Then don’t wait.”

Louie reaches into the nightstand and pulls out a condom. I know he doesn’t want to use it, but I appreciate that he does it anyway. The moment he’s sheathed, he lines up his cock with my entrance and slams into me. Bottoming out.

“Oh, shit!” I yell, the slight sting a welcomed pain I’ve become accustomed to over the last few days.

“Fuck! Charlotte, I swear it gets better and better,” he says, slowly withdrawing from me. “Mine, you are mine.” He slams into me again. “This pussy is mine.” He pulls out and drives right back in before he leans forward and places a kiss on the middle of my chest. “Your heart is mine.” Moving upwards, he kisses my forehead this time. “Your everything is mine.”

I can feel my pussy protesting, clinging, convulsing around his cock as he draws back again. There’s not one cell of my body that doesn’t want to be owned by this man. Maybe I should tattoo his name all over me. Because, let’s face it, that wouldn’t be the craziest thing I’ve done this week.

All thoughts vanish when Louie pushes back inside me, bottoming out while he lifts my hips off the mattress. Angling my body so that the tip of his cock hits that spot so deep only he’s managed to find it.

Louie shifts onto his knees. Picking up my legs and resting them on his shoulders. His lips press against my inner ankle as he continues to slowly, ever so torturously, slide in and out of me.

The sensations flowing through my every nerve ending are intense, almost unbearable. “Please,” I cry out. I need more. I need him to move faster.

“Please what, Mrs. Giuliani?”

“I need more…”More of what? I have no fucking idea.

“I know what you need. I’ve got everything you need right here,” Louie says, as if he can somehow read my thoughts. He starts thrusting into me harder, faster.

It only takes minutes before my mind goes blank and I’m seeing stars. “Holy fuck!” I yell, and my body spasms as wave after wave of pleasure runs through me.

“Fuck, I love when you come. Your pussy milks my cock so fucking good. Just like that. It’s all yours, Charlotte.” Louie grunts as his thrusts become more rigid, and then he stills. Slowly pulling out of me and collapsing next to me on the bed. “I’m so fucking glad we get a lifetime of doing this,” he pants.

“Mmm, me too.” I smile, my eyes closed as exhaustion creeps in.

* * *

Who on earth is yelling?I open my eyes. The room is dark, and I’m alone. Again. You’d think the morning after I got married I’d at least wake up with my husband in bed with me.

I jolt upwards. “Holy shit, I got married.” My eyes widen at the realization of what happened last night. I wasn’t drunk. Iwastipsy, sure, but not drunk. No, I married Louie on a dare because I wanted to. No other reason.

“Wake her up!” someone shouts.

“I’m not waking up my wife for you.”Thiscomes from Louie.

I feel a smile spread across my face. He just called mehis wife. Why does that one little phrase send butterflies fluttering through my stomach?

I climb out of bed, walk into Louie’s closet, and pull on a shirt. I then grab a pair of his sweats. Once I’m satisfied I don’t look like shit, I walk out to the living room, where Louie and Emmanuel are in a heated conversation.

I shriek when I spot the gun aimed at my husband’s head, and Louie calls out over a shoulder. Calmly. A little too calmly. “Charlotte, go back to the bedroom.”

“Don’t move,” Emmanuel says, dropping the gun and turning his attention to me. “Something is wrong with Evie.”

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