Page 61 of The Brutal Arrangement

He didn’t give me a chance to think about it any further. As he urged me to lie back on the couch, I arched and reached up to keep my mouth against his in another drugging kiss.

Staying true to his nature, though, he took charge, albeit with more tenderness. He almost seemed… sweet.

“I want to trust you, Lucy,” he said as he took both of my hands and held them in one of his. With his insistence that I keep my arms up, my hands over my head, I felt stretched out underneath him.

“You can trust me,” I replied.

“You came here as a trick. As a lie,” he said as he lined his dick up to my already wet entrance. I was always wet, reduced to an aroused being every time he gave me one of those lust-filled stares or kissed me brutally.

“And I want to know why.” He squeezed my hands before releasing them, a silent gesture that I knew to mean he wanted me to keep them where they were. It was an invisible bond, but one I didn’t mind at all.

“I want to know what could’ve motivated you to come here and marry someone like me.”

He slid two of his fingers through my juices, smearing the stickiness as he fingered me while staring at me. “And I intend to find out.”

I nodded, understanding that agreeing to whatever he said meant that I’d need to fess up. All this time, he’d refrained from asking me about Katerina, Anton, or anything about what I could know. And now I saw how his plan had been working. With sex, he’d established that he was in control. And with my need for him, he’d managed to put me in my place.

It should’ve scared me to think about him interrogating me, but there wasn’t any real way I could change my position. He’d put me in my place. And I’d come to terms with that already.

I’d accepted that this was how it was—loveless and physical.

But it seemed that if he wanted to connect with me any further, he wanted to set the stakes of trust between us.

“I am learning to like you, Wife,” he said in that raspy growl. His voice was so deep, so smoky, that I swore he could say anything and make me burn for him.

“And I am learning to like the possibility that your submission isn’t a trick.” With his fingers inside me, holding me open and stretching me, he pushed his dick in.

I gasped, unused to this thicker invasion. Taking his cock was a stretch to begin with.

But with his fingers in me as well? I felt torn. I felt pushed to accommodate him like this, but once the sting of slight pain faded into red-hot pleasure, I was eager to push up and hump his hand and cock in that chase for relief.

“No tricks,” I replied, panting, ready to say anything he wanted to hear so long as he kept this up.

Watching me and seeming to revel in my expression of desperation, he would ram into me all the way, stuffing me withhis cock, then finger me. Adding a third finger felt like too much, but once I got used to the stretch of his fingers in and out, along with his dick, it was as if he was stroking himself, and me, while fucking me.

It didn’t take long for my orgasm to come. And with the approach of my climax, he lost his stride of maintaining that steady pattern of his cock and digits in me. Breathing hard and straining over me as he stared me down, he ended up withdrawing his hand to go faster.

The slippery moisture of my juices smeared on my hips as he held me hard. Within his grip, I was right where he wanted me so he could pummel my pussy and get us both off.

“Damon!” I cried, so battered with how different he was acting tonight. And on the tail of my cries and frantic inhales of air as I came, he growled and dug his fingers into me with a bruising intensity.

He slammed his hips to mine once more so forcefully that I had to grab the cushion, he plowed me forward so far. Fucked so thoroughly like this, he’d rendered me limbless and lax, without thought or a single thing to say.

And as he lowered over me, holding me close in a flush hug, I caught my breath and wanted to weep at the fact that he was staying with me.

He was embracing me after we’d already come.

My husband… was cuddling me.

It was the sweetest gift he could give me. A connection I hadn’t realized I’d been yearning for so badly.

Trust wasn’t a simple transaction between us, but as I closed my eyes and relished his hard body pressed against mine as we evened out our breaths, I wanted to take faith in the chance of trusting him and this security he seemed to want to give me.

Not because I was his cheap whore to hide and keep.

But because I was his wife. His wife he wanted to learn to like beyond the submission I could give him.

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