Page 100 of Hostile Vows
For a heart-stopping moment, he twists his torso to catch sight of me and then returns his troubled frown to the horizon. Something unknown crawls over my skin. A chill of uncertainty—or maybe it’s simply the dread of knowing we’ll return to shore eventually, and our honeymoon will come to an end.
Gazing over at him, I don’t just see a ruthless killer or the most powerful man in Miami; I seehimwithout boundaries or expectations—the realness of him—my husband. He captures my senses and injects them with boundless adrenaline, as if he’s waking me up from the spell I fell under after we had parted ways decades ago. No matter what unhallowed deeds blemish his soul, I still find myself falling in love with him.
My arms ache to hold him and my core clenches. After a few minutes, he pivots on the spot and casually stalks in my direction. There’s nothing basic about his strides. Each step is confident, his bronzed muscles flexing as his sinewy physique draws closer. My pulse goes crazy when he crowds me, driving me backward until I’m flat on my back, vulnerable to his every sadistic whim.
“I have business in the city.” He kisses me with mind-melting authority. “And the good thing is, I’ll be back in time for dessert. Unless you’re ready to return to the penthouse?”
A thick ebony brow hitches playfully, and his rogue smile leaves me questioning my ability to form sentences.
I’ve fallen so hard.
Fuck…
I shrug nonchalantly. “I’m enjoying life at sea. A few more days wouldn’t hurt, I guess.”
He thumbs my lower lip, dragging it open to give him access to the tip of my tongue. “Yeah… life at sea… it looks good on you, Wifey.”
Delightful chills scurry from the roots in my scalp to my toenails. I’m on fire. Crawling off me, he narrows his gaze, his carbon-black eyes settling on my exposed breasts.
“You look good on me.” I laugh, cuffing his wrist before he’s out of reach, unable to take my eyes off him.
Raw attraction ignites on contact. My heart beats faster. Familiarity and white-hot threads of a limitless affinity curl around the pair of us and I momentarily forget to breathe. He swallows hard and lifts my knuckles to his lips, kissing the now healed tattoo. André doesn’t need to speak a word. I can see the shift in his eyes like tunnel vision, how it surpasses our fiery mania and burns further in his soul.
Sun dapples his chiseled form when he dips out from under the parasol, preparing to leave me alone. My stomach flips when he winks at me from over his shoulder.
“I’ll be a phone call away. If you ring me—I’ll answer, no matter what fucker thinks they have my attention. You’re my number one, Wifey.”
Something inside of me squeezes, a surge of glacial fear prickling my hot veins. I do my best to quash it and inwardly tell myself I’m turning into a love-struck fool.
“And why would I need to call you? Unless…” I throw my legs over the edge of the daybed to stand. “Unless I get bored and decide to FaceTime you for a visual.” I slide my hand between my legs and watch the possessiveness in him snap.
He stiffens as I taunt him, my fingertips skimming the sensitive folds he’s devoured night after night, and day after day. In a stuttered heartbeat, he’s before me, his untamed control maneuvering my hand out of the way. “This is mine.” His head shakes slowly as he brings my wet fingers to his mouth and sucks them one by one. “Wait for me, Wifey. That's an order. I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Oh, yeah?” I laugh from the back of my throat, surprised at the hunger thickening it. “Then you’d better hurry back to me, Hotshot.”
He’s a blur of muscle and speed, almost giving me whiplash when he moves, his expression so tortured it could summon the devil. Eager dominance drives me backward onto the daybed, my shoulders pressing into the spongy pad beneath them. I notice the flare of his pupils, the quick intake of salty sea air, and the moisture rolling from his vivid tattoos.
He crawls on top of me, brawn and strength, securing my position. I groan when he clamps my thighs and hurriedly spreads my legs, hungrily impaling me with his swollen, furious dick.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he hisses on entry. “No matter how many times we do this, it never gets old.”
He’s a stunning man, etched with danger and designed by a cruel cartel kingpin. But at this moment, he’s not taking me aggressively. It's something else—an energy I have no name for because I’ve never known it.
I struggle to breathe, wondering if I’m drowning in this undefined emotion alone. Until my rugged husband digs his fingers into my cheeks to control my gaze and our eyes fuse. His features soften and his mouth crashes over the top of mine.
I’m fluid like the salty sea and hotter than the bold sun. His teeth graze mine and his tongue penetrates my mouth like he’s fucking it too. When he resurfaces from his plunder, he stares right at me and nudges his forehead into mine.
“Do you know why rule number one is so important?” He grinds his hips, angling in deeper, all of him moving inside of me. Regardless of the warmth his breath offers, chilling tingles flourish over my feverish skin. My fingers curl in the damp hair at his nape, spurring him on as I’m lost in the embrace of my husband's custody. “Because I’ve always been fascinated by you, Sin. That’s why I made you marry me. Not because of mafia titles or cartel power, but because you belong to me. And I won’t let you slip through my arms again. I spent years searching for my best friend and came up with nothing.” His eyes are the purest form of liquid sincerity, fierce and hot. “And yeah, baby, this boat is named after you—my damn dog too. So, when I tell you that I’m the only man who would kill for you, I fucking mean it. I’d bleed and go to war for you. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“Yes.” I exhale the word on an adrenaline-fueled sigh.
“Tell me then—tell me who you belong to.”
Flat on my back, held beneath the weight of him and his admission, I fall apart. He drives in harder, his control shattered, his movements wild like a ferocious storm battering at my defenses until I’m broken and rebuilt.
He fucks me, forcing every inch of himself inside of me. And I match his insanity with clawing nails and locked legs, wrapping his hips to welcome the fast-paced intrusion.
“I belong to you, André,” I groan as the surge of an almighty orgasm crests and my love for him detonates within every nucleus of my every cell, the explosion a blast my heart will never survive.
