Page 31 of Hateful Vows
“Yes, please.”
I’m on the pill, and the perspective of leaking my husband’s cum down my legs as I sleep should terrify me, gross me out even. But my heart preens and revels in the primal need to have him belong to me fully.
“You like that? You want me to pump you full of my cum until there’s no mistaking who you fucking belong to?”
“Yes, yes, yes.”
I chant in the rhythm of his thrusts, gripping his cock with my inner walls when my name leaves his lips. My nails scrape the wood of the desk, trying to cling to anything I can.
I slide a finger towards my clit and rub myself as he ruins me for all other men, brutally taking his pleasure from my body. I soar when I come and hear the masculine groan Dante lets out as he follows me over the edge.
His breathing is laboured when he’s done and pride swells inside me. He drops his forehead between my shoulder blades, and I freeze.
He degraded me during sex, took me roughly on his desk butthat, that I can’t take. It’s a vulnerability I can’t allow.
“Get off me,” I say, voice wavering.
“Let me clean you up,” Dante offers as he withdraws and grabs tissues from the box on his desk.
“Don’t.” I straighten and fix my skirt back on with frantic movements, the ruined underwear on the floor at our feet.
Decent again, Dante takes hold of my jaw, forcing my gaze to meet his. He searches for something with that cunning look and I can’t let him know how much that meant to me. How cherishedI felt even being used. How good he made me feel. Because he could make me believe I deserve to feel good, to feel loved and cherished. I can’t afford hope.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks softly.
“No.”
“Do you regret it?”
“No.”
“Tell me what’s wrong. Please.” His softness is unbearable.
“Nothing’s wrong.” I will my eyes to harden. “We fucked. I liked it. And now I’m going to eat and go to bed. I’m not one for cuddles,kozyol.”
I push past him, uncomfortable as cum sticks in between my thighs, but even more with my husband’s openness and care.
FOURTEEN
ALEKSEI
Dante’s men let me in when I show up at the gilded gate of his father’s mansion. The grounds crawl with Italian men armed to the teeth but all of them give me a wide berth. His second-in-command—I think his name is Tino—opens the door for me.
“Lucie isn’t here?” he asks gruffly.
Our cohabitation for the past few days has been a silent one. She mostly stays in her room, only coming out to eat. Magda has taken a liking to her, which says a lot because she hates everyone, including me. I found them makingpelmeniin the kitchen yesterday and it was the strangest experience. It almost looked… homely.
“Where is he?” I ask Tino instead of answering him. I don’t owe him shit.
“He’s occupied right now.”
I don’t like the smirk on his face; I don’t know what it means.
There is no love lost between our organisations but Tino gives me his back as he leads me towards a sitting room. It’s a show of respect, an acknowledgment of our truce. He might not like me but he trusts me enough not to stab him in the back.I can respect that. I give him a nod and walk to the window, bypassing the velvet green sofa in the middle of the room.
Tino’s phone rings and a conversation in Italian ensues.
“I’ll be right there,” he says into the phone then glances up at me. “Dante should be done soon. Don’t wander, we have cameras everywhere.” Then he disappears, closing the doors behind him.
