Page 181 of Poison Vows

Oh God.

My vision blurs. My entire body is thrown into a state of levitation and numbness that I don’t even know what happens next.

“You will never be able to forget me,” he states. “You won’t ever move on from me!”

At this point, I’m screaming, tears running down my face because it’s soo good.

It’s soo good with this man, I feel like electricity is moving between us, frying me so good, I want more.

I cling to my tormentor, my monster, my husband, hating him, wanting him, knowing damn well that if he doesn’t say so, I won’t be able to come.

I really am a masochist.

“It’s my name you’ll scream, Ivy, even after I’m gone. Do you know that?”

I hate that I do know.

I hate that he might be right.

I hate him!

As if to prove a point, he deftly rolls his hips while balls deep in me, screwing me into the tree, destroying any hope of moving on from him.

Unlike our wedding night, this time he doesn’t bother being a gentleman. He’s never been one.

He comes with a roar that sinks into my subconscious, I swear I’ll come just by listening and feeling its guttural intensity, and I actually do.

As his seed spurts in me, the snow falling heavier than before, I come hard.

And just when I think he’s done, he starts all over again, thrusting in me with renewed vigor until my left leg starts shaking.

He grabs my thigh in his large, warm hand, squeezes there, and grinds against my pelvis so deliciously, I throw my head and scream, overwhelmed by the rushing tide that sweeps through me.

I come so hard and so long, that I lose all concept of time.

When I come to, Emmett is whispering praises in my ear, kissing me, holding me to him and telling me to keep squirting for him.

I come again from just listening to the huskiness of his voice. I come harder than before so much so that I feel myself about to pass out.

I feel his teeth at the crook of my neck, nibbling, biting, punishing as he starts thrusting in me once more.

As if I’m no longer in control of my own body, I start jerking against him, my nails sinking into his arms and back, my mouth latching on his shoulder.

“That’s it, baby. Give me everything.”

This is insane.

Wild.

Unhinged.

This is the kind of fucking I never thought possible, but he undoes me, and just when I think we’re done, there can’t possibly be more, he starts all over again, this time, laying me down on top of his stone table with only his suit jacket between me and the snow, making love to me round after round.

“Mine, Mrs. Easton,” he savagely states without any gentleness. “You’re mine beyond death! We’ll never part! We both waited forever for this.”

His command is not rosy or fancy. It’s like he’s stating facts.

He’s not charming. He’s not a hero in shining armor. He’s not even the polite, sensitive boy I had a crush on as a little girl.

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