Page 59 of The Cruel Heir
“Then hate me while you come on my cock.”
And God help me, I did.
I shattered with his name on my lips, my cries muffled in the mattress, my thighs quaking, as he filled me up and collapsed over my back, teeth grazing the spot where my neck met my shoulder.
For a long time, neither of us moved. Just sweat and silence. Skin on skin.
And then his voice, quiet. Final.
“You’re mine now. In every way that counts.”
STERLING
Aweek later
A weekof silence stretched between us since the wedding night. A week of stolen glances across gilded halls, her body mine in name but not in surrender. I had tasted her before, in shadows, and I had claimed her beneath vows signed in ink. But never like this. Tonight wasn’t about firsts. Tonight was about permanence.
Not just in the way men whisper when they conquer. No, Zara was mine the way legacy demands, the way bloodlines are marked and preserved.
The wedding night had been fire and defiance, her body yielding, her mouth still sharp. But tonight was different. The fight had burned out of her, replaced with something I’d been waiting years to taste: surrender.
She was mine before the vows, before the signatures. But the ink changed everything. Now she carried my name, my future, my heir. This wasn’t a first claim. It was a seal.
When I rose from between her thighs, her taste clinging to my mouth like sin, I didn’t let her breathe long. I pulled hercloser, her thighs slick and trembling, and lifted her effortlessly onto the bed. She clutched my shoulders, out of balance, not desperation.
"Sterling," she whispered, a tremor in her voice.
"No one else gets this. No one else sees you like this. Brown skin glowing. Nipples dark like ripe fruit. You are art. You are mine."
I took my time. Let my tongue trace every inch of her. Down her breasts, across her soft stomach, pausing to kiss the curve where her womb had started to show. I worshipped her with lips and hands, until her breathing was ragged, and her fingers tangled in my hair.
Her body spoke before she did, arching into my mouth, trembling against my tongue. I whispered promises against her belly, the life growing there a quiet drum beneath my lips.
"You gave me everything," I said, mouth grazing her navel. "Now I give you everything I’ve been too cruel to offer."
She reached for me, her palm cupping my jaw, uncertain but soft. "You said I was yours."
I kissed her palm. "You’ve always been. Even when you ran. Even in high school, when I sat two rows behind you in orchestra, and pretended your laugh didn’t wreck me. Even when I lied to myself."
I shifted above her again, pressing into her slowly. This time I held her gaze the entire way in. "Every inch of me wants to stay buried inside you forever."
She clenched around me. A sound caught in her throat. I moved deeper, slower, worshiping her the only way I knew how, physically, obsessively, without shame.
Her legs lifted around my hips, her breath catching with every roll of my pelvis. I changed the angle, tilted her hips, and watched her eyes widen when I hit the spot that made her legs lock.
"You want me to stop?" I asked, voice low.
She shook her head. "Don’t you dare."
So I didn’t. I fucked her slow and deep, memorizing the shape of every moan, the dip of every sigh. Her dark nipples peaked under my palms, slick and sensitive. I sucked one into my mouth again, tongue swirling, and she arched off the mattress with a cry.
"I love you like this," I said into her skin. "Wild and warm and honest."
She was crying now. Not sobbing. Not loud. Just quiet tears sliding into her hairline, too exhausted to fight, too raw to pretend this didn’t mean something. I kissed them away.
I held her like she was breakable. Moved like she was sacred. I didn’t stop until she was clenching around me, whispering my name like it was salvation.
I let go, spilling inside her again, groaning into her mouth as I crushed our bodies together, and held her through the tremors.
