Page 138 of Sadistic

I silence her protest with my mouth, finding her already wet.

She tries to stay quiet, hand flying to her mouth, but I'm relentless.

Five years of fantasies, of imagining this moment, fuel every movement.

"I want them to hear," I growl against her. "Want everyone to know you're mine now."

Her hands tangle in my hair, torn between pushing me away and pulling me closer.

I win, I always win when it comes to her body's responses.

She comes with a muffled cry, legs shaking.

I stand, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "My turn."

She's already reaching for my belt, eyes dark with need. "This is insane."

"This is us." I lift her against the wall, dress bunched around her waist. "Say it. Say you're mine."

"Yours," she gasps as I enter her. "Always was, you possessive bastard."

"My perfect wife." I thrust deep, making her whimper. "My vicious little wolf."

We're desperate, both of us.

Like the ceremony wasn't enough, like we need this physical claiming to make it real.

Her nails dig into my shoulders through my jacket, probably leaving marks.

Good.

"Harder," she demands, and I obey.

The sounds we're making aren't quiet.

Anyone passing in the hall will know exactly what's happening.

Part of me hopes they do.

Let everyone know that Revna Volkolv chose this, chose me.

"Close," she pants. "So close."

"Come for me. Come for your husband."

She shatters, my name on her lips.

I follow immediately, the word "wife" groaned into her neck.

We stay frozen for a moment, both breathing hard.

Reality creeps back in—we're at our wedding reception, hundreds of guests waiting.

"Fuck," she breathes.

"Indeed."

A knock at the door makes us both jump. "Mr. Volkolv?" A tentative voice. "The photographer is asking?—"

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