Page 28 of Hostile Vows
I’m on the verge of insanity too. My balls are cramping, and my heart rate is through the fucking roof. “Stubbornness won’t satisfy your dark side, Wifey.” The knuckle-deep finger withdraws and lies flat against her folds, unmoving.
Sinéad squirms, not to seek a way out of my relentless hold, but to urge me on. My paper-thin restraint starts to crack, crushing my decency like shards of misshapen glass. “Say it—say you want your husband to finger-fuck you,” I snarl.
She shivers and shakes her head. “You bastard.”
“It doesn’t have to be this way.”
“I have more respect for myself than this.”
“Yet here you are, grinding against my hand, aching for my fingers—for my dick.” I drag my flattened hand across the landscape of her pubic hairs, rubbing the heel of my palm against her clit, teasing her with pressure. “You are mine, which means I’m the only man who’ll grant you the orgasms you deserve. No one else is permitted to touch my wife.”
I graze the shell of her ear and gently bite the fleshy lobe when she mutters in a ragged breath, “I’ll do it myself. You can’t stop me from touching myself in the bathroom or in the moments you're not around. You’ll never know when I’m getting myself off, because it's none of your goddamn business. I don’t need a man to satisfy me. I’ve taken care of my own needs for long enough. I don’t need you, Dré. And I sure as hell don’t belong to you.”
The outrage scorching my veins is alien to me. I’m jealous of her own hand. I’ve never felt that way before—ever.
“And you think your solo hand is good enough?” I push a finger between her folds and let it sit there, feeling the muscles in her core flutter with neediness. “If that’s the case, then I forbid you to come. I fucking prohibit it. The only way you’ll feel the intensity of a release is by my hand, my tongue, or my dick. I’ll make you come harder than you’ve ever done before. Guaranteed.”
My stationary finger skates over the top of her engorged nub. “A hand is a hand—” she groans, her knees weakening. “Yours… mine… it’s irrelevant.”
“Let’s test that theory, shall we?” I plunge a finger inside of her, hard and probing. “This cunt is dripping. So warm and ready for me… and that’s a dirty fact you can’t hide.”
“Fuck you…” Her shoulders jerk forward when her inner walls milk my finger.
I struggle to catch a breath when the sensation sends shock waves right through me. “Is that a request?”
“No!” she hisses, almost crying from the maddening greed she’s fighting to ignore.
“But you want it?” I add a second finger and almost come myself when she rocks into them and cries out, her voice torn with hunger. Her refusal to beg lingers on a thin film of patience and if she’s not careful, it would irrevocably shatter. “Beg me to finish this,” I grunt, supporting her body weight when her head falls back.
Her pelvis tilts into my hand, and a breathy sigh carries a forced laugh. The deranged sexual noise that tells me she’s close to letting go, but her pride won’t allow it. “You don’t own me… Dré…” Desire rolls off her tongue, her Irish accent thick with it. “No… I’ll… finish… it…”
I continue to finger-fuck her until I sense the brewing clench of a release, and then, mustering every mangled scrap of control I have left, I withdraw. My head swims, unable to banish the electrified impulses charging through me. I unravel my arms and watch her stagger forward, trembling and flushed with sexual hunger.
When her head rotates to face me, her hair whips dark lengths across her foreign complexion and incandescent eyes. The fanning fingers covering her heart fail to calm her heaving chest or extinguish the hunger bubbling in her veins.
Our gazes clash like blades on an explosive battlefield. Hers white-hot and mine hiding an agonizing desire of my own.
As she watches me, urgent fingers move to the opening in her pants as if she’s in pain and needs a quick remedy. They curl around the leather and tug at the zipper.
“All you had to do was admit it.”
Her legs snap together, and she sways. “Why? So you can laugh at the poor Irish girl and add her to your extensive list of conquests?” I lunge at her and snare the disobedient hand moving between her thighs. “I won’t give you that victory.”
“Laugh…” I squeeze her fragile bones and blurt out, “Why the fuck would I laugh at you?”
“Because I don’t stand a chance against you, Dré. You’re too strong. Too toxic. Too fucking good-looking. And I hate you for it. I hate you so much it hurts.”
I swallow her confession and drag her hand free of her leather pants. “What hurts is denying yourself this…” I touch her pussy again, sinking my fingers into the heat I’m craving more than liquor, narcotics, or speed. Her forehead tips to my shoulder, and then she rears back, her will to resist still strong.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Sin. Nothing about this is a laughing matter.” She groans when my thumb swipes her clit. “I can either give you this… or you can spend the rest of the day unsatisfied.” Her uncontrollable shiver is like a domino effect, causing my own skin to break out in goosebumps.
Touching her is heaven—a curse inside my mind. My heart pounds as she starts to rise from the penetration of my fingers. Even though she hasn’t spoken her consent, her fingers dig into my jacket, her hips rock, and her sexy little groans spur me on.
“It's not my victory…” I breathe the words into silky soft hair when her right knee lifts a fraction to give me deeper access. “It’s yours. You’re the only woman who has my full attention. The only one who belongs to me. This isn’t about my control; it’s about a husband allowing his wife to explore her feminine desires.”
Her grabbing hands are slapping me one minute and roaming the next, her composure disintegrating into the concrete beneath our feet. I can’t get enough of her angry submission. Or how her legs widen, and her eyes latch onto mine when her body starts to tremble, wild and violent. I curl the fingers of my other hand around the back of her neck. Our foreheads collide, and our breathing mingles while my fingers pump into her, the heel of my palm banging her clit.
My own urges are on high alert, my dick weeping into the fabric of my boxer briefs. But the second I steal a slippery, tongue-sucking kiss, she moans deep into my mouth—and detonates.
