Page 24 of Hateful Vows
“Touch your pretty pussy, wife. I want you to come while you choke on my cock.”
The edges of her teeth tease my flesh and it just makes me want to punish her. I withdraw to the tip before thrusting into her mouth harder, choking her like I promised.
Tears well at the edges of her eyes.
“Cry for me. It makes me fucking hard.”
Mascara and tears gather on her lashes before the makeup falls on her pink cheeks when I thrust forward over and over.Saliva pools at the corners of her mouth, falling to her neck and collarbone. She looks wrecked and I love it.
In a matter of minutes, my balls draw tight and I’m ready to let go. Irina’s hollowed cheeks and sucking sounds are getting me towards my release quickly, the edge within reach. Her hand moves faster under her dress, her eyes getting droopy again. It makes me feral to see the Ice Queen unravel for me, getting off with my cock in her vicious mouth.
“Such a greedy whore,cuore mio. So fucking perfect for your husband’s cock. Are you gonna take what I give you?”
My voice strains with lust. She moans and nods around me, a hand on my thigh for support as she closes her eyes and comes for me again, shuddering and relaxing her throat. I lose myself, releasing inside her mouth in hot spurts that seem to go on forever.
I’m barely recovered when Irina uses my body to stand, grabbing my jaw with her manicured hand and kissing me, my cum falling from her lips to mine. The groan that escapes me is animalistic.
But bliss is short-lived. She takes a step back, adjusts her dress and removes all the remaining pins in her hair to let it cascade down her back. After cleaning her mouth and chest, she looks over at me in the mirror with that all-too-familiar hateful gaze again.
“Get out.”
I’ll let her get away with itthis one timebut next time she comes for me, letting her to deal with the aftermath on her own won’t do.
ELEVEN
ALEKSEI
Some of my men are helping the Italians with clean-up. The man I just killed for insulting us was one of my father’s most loyal and Mikhail’s father. I know he used to beat him and his mum so I’m not sorry I ended his life. Iamsorry for losing my temper. That never happens. I’ve been trained to best my emotions at all times.
Ventura already has a negative influence on me, and I won’t tolerate it. We’ll communicate via phone after the wedding. I don’t want to be in the same room as him. And certainly not in the same room as him and Irina.
The way they kissed at the altar was disgraceful.
The lack of restraint. The panting and the roaming hands. Irina and Dante made a fool of themselves, and put us in this position of having to clean blood underneath our shoes. But I’ll never let anyone say anything about either of them. The London Bratva is about to enter a new era, one stronger for its independence and alliance with the Italians. The old generation can fold or die.
I turn toward Lucie, who’s shoving food into her mouth like nothing happened.
“Are you okay?” I ask gruffly, unused to such words.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You just married someone you don’t know, and your husband killed someone in cold-blood. I don’t expect you to show a strong front in the face of madness, Lucie.”
Her chewing slows and she dabs her mouth. Her warm brown eyes narrow. I take a seat beside her and she leans closer, whispering conspiratorially.
“Are we going to have a problem, Aleksei? Are you one of those men who thinks a woman’s place is either in the kitchen or on her back, pushing your heirs out?”
“What? No! I would never touch you. And you can do whatever you want.” She raises a brow. I don’t care if that insults her. That’s the agreement I have with Dante. Besides, she’s not the one I want. And she’s so young. But fuck, I don’t want to make an enemy out of her either. I may have met her today at the altar but despite the fearless look she’s sporting, she makes me want to protect her. “Look Lucie. I don’t want this marriage any more than you do but I’ll protect you and my people no matter what. I’m sure you’re more than capable, I just… I want you to be happy. You don’t have anything to fear from me.”
“Oh, I know. Dante told me all about your agreement. Maybe you keep women away from business in the Bratva but my dad trained me like anyone else. And honestly, I don’t care much for blood.” She shrugs. “I won’t let this food go to waste. Do you know how much effort Dante put into all this?”
As far as arranged marriages go, I didn’t put any thought behind this moment, so no, I have no clue how much effort went into the preparation. I look around. At the bright flowers I have no name for, the sumptuous dress of the Italian crowd compared to the dark attire of my men and their families, the elegant—though cold—decor of the restaurant. Dante’s personality and extravagance shine in every nook of this reception. It almostmakes me smile. I don’t get it so I dismiss the feeling, returning to quietly observing the crowd, waiting for an insurrection.
Popov, another close confidant of my father, approaches me, whispering about new agreements and responsibilities but all I can focus on is how Dante follows Irina out of the room, an air of trouble lingering after them.
I nod and hum at the old man’s ideas. Popov has been with the London Bratva since before my father took over. I want to hear what he has to say, he seems focused on the greater good of our organisation, unlike most of his generation. But all my mind conjures up is the image of Dante’s determined stride as he followed after Irina’s haughty silhouette.
“Come by my office tomorrow. If you’ll excuse me,” I tell the man without waiting for an answer.
