Page 64 of The Cruel Heir
“Please,” I whispered.
My hand grabbed onto his head, and I pushed his face harder against my pussy. My legs spread wider, and I couldn’t help the moans that came out of my mouth, as he had himself a sloppy snack.
His grunts and growls rumbled against my cunt, and I shrieked when my orgasm raced up my back unexpectedly. He didn’t stop. He kept sucking my soul from between my legs, as I tried to push his head away.
He didn’t move away, so focused on my pussy, he didn’t even touch himself. When he finally lifted his head, his lips were soaked, his eyes wild, like a man drowning, who’d just remembered how to breathe.
“Come again for me, my little hummingbird. Come on your husband’s fucking tongue.”
That shouldn’t be hot at all, and yet my pussy throbbed, and as he sank back down to resume his meal, I felt his fingers playing in my behind. I almost tensed up, but I remembered my promise not to fight him.
Instead, I relaxed, and his thumb slipped inside my ass. My legs squeezed his head so hard, I thought it was going to pop off, as another orgasm crested.
I choked, “Oh God, yes!”
His hand popped up and grasped my neck. Not squeezing, just putting pressure there. “Not God, baby. Call me the man you hate fucking, even though you know I’m your husband now.”
“Oh shit,” I moaned. I couldn’t help myself. The forbidden words he was growling did something to me once I was out of my head. “I’m going to cum, Sterling,” I whispered, feeling it coming.
He lifted his head. “Come again, my little hummingbird? I couldn’t quite hear you.”
I cried out what he wanted to hear, “I’m coming, husband!” at the top of my fucking lungs, as my entire body seized up, and the hardest orgasm I’d ever had hit my system. My eyes rolled back into my head, and all I heard was a dark, “Good girl,” before I passed out.
STERLING
The summons had come at dawn. The board wanted a meeting. Pulling myself from Zara’s warmth had been a test of will I barely passed. She was still curled in our bed when I woke, her soft breaths even, one hand resting on the slight swell of her belly. Mine. The thought echoed in my head, as I traced my fingers lightly over her hip, tempted to let my morning plans slip away, in favor of staying right there, watching her, touching her.
She stirred slightly, murmuring something in her sleep, pressing closer to the warmth I’d left behind. My jaw tightened. Leaving her felt wrong. But power demanded sacrifice, and today, that sacrifice was time I wanted to spend with my wife.
My eyes landed on the gift I gave her. Maybe it wasn’t enough? I kept the violin in our room on purpose. No music room. No pedestal. Just there. Waiting.
It had been over a week since I gave it to her. Long enough for the silence to stretch between us, thick with all the things we wouldn’t say.
Sometimes I left the case unlatched. Shifted the bow slightly. Brushed dust off the chin rest. Subtle things. Just enough to make her wonder.
I didn’t ask her to play. I didn’t have to. She’d feel the weight of it. I needed to hear her again. Not because I missed her. But because when she played, I didn’t feel like a monster.
For three minutes, I could breathe. It was why I humiliated her. She shouldn’t have had such power over me. I couldn’t help but force her into a dark place. But my wife was strong, resilient in ways I myself was not.
I forced myself to step away from my obsession, dressing quickly, though my eyes lingered on her a moment longer. She’d still be here when I returned. She was mine; my wife, my future, my legacy. And soon, she’d have to face that truth in front of the world.
I satbeside Frankie in the back of the car, arms crossed, as the city blurred past the tinted windows. His sharp gaze flicked to the windows every few seconds, always alert.
"You think they’re gonna try to back you into a corner?"
I smirked. "They can try."
I knew what the summons was about, before I even stepped foot into the building. Whispers had been circling for weeks, concern over my priorities, over my focus. They wanted reassurances. They wanted to know that I was still the man they invested in.
The board had always been made up of men who thought they ran this world, wealthy investors, powerful CEOs, old-money families who had their hands in every major decision. They had groomed my father, kept him on a tight leash, ensuring that he played by their rules. But I had never been the son who followed orders. I was Kingsley blood, but I wasn’t their puppet.
When I took over, they expected me to be malleable, young, reckless, easily influenced. They underestimated me. I had spent years ensuring I was indispensable to them, building alliances they couldn't untangle themselves from. Every investment, every financial move, every deal had my fingerprints on it. They needed me more than they realized, and today, I’d remind them of that.
They wanted a Kingsley heir to cement their power. I had already secured one.
They wanted me to marry for influence. I had married for dominance.
This meeting wasn’t about my personal life, it was about them trying to regain control. And I wasn’t about to let that happen.
