Page 35 of The Brutal Arrangement

He’d gagged me.

He’d bound me.

I couldn’t scream or protest.

I was prevented from fighting back or warding him off.

I’d never been so defenseless in my life, but it wasn’t that feeling that made me nearly break down.

It was what was coming.

“You signed that paper,” he growled into my ear as he leaned over me.

I only did because I was under the impression that I wouldn’t have to facethis. I only signed anything and agreed to come here because it was a ticket to have my mother cared for.

“You are my wife.”

Hot tears leaked down my cheek as he shoved my dress up.

No, no, no.

I never wanted this.

She told me that they’d dismiss me.

That it was just a business arrangement, in name only.

“And from day one,Wife, you will learn that you obey me.” He lowered, hunching over to shove my panties down. No matter how rigid I kept my legs, I noticed the rough caress of his fingers on my thighs. The harsh push of his hand over me.

This wasn’t the dismissive treatment I was supposed to get.

Please, no.

“Starting right now.” Movements followed his statement, his hands busy behind my ass. The zipper of his pants sounded too loud in the silence of the room, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

It was too dark to see anything. But I had to double down on closing my eyes, anyway. I had to block it all out to get through it. There was no avoiding the sensation of touch. Not when heyanked my dress up high and bared my ass. Not when he pushed his bare, hairy thighs against the backs of mine. Not when?—

Oh, fuck.

He was huge. Long and hard, so thick and stiff. The feel of his dick behind me was something I’d never experienced before. I was a virgin, and limited in any sexual sense of adventure. The hand job I’d given my boyfriend in high school wasn’t anything like the naughty push of my husband’s shaft by my ass.

Oh… fuck.

It was so different. So wildly wrong and sinful.

He had no right to take me like this—married or not. I hadn’t given him any consent. I agreed to be his wife in name, but not histhingto fuck.

Yet, as he bunched up my dress with one hand, he rocked that huge thing against me. Each time he touched me, I was overwhelmed with morbid curiosity.

No!

I shook my head as if I could clear out these stupid thoughts.

This was wrong.

This was horrible.

When he reached around me, pushing his hand between my legs and roughly rubbing over my mound, I stiffened even more.

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