Page 74 of Hostile Vows
“André.” Her Irish lilt is thick and enticing.
My dick thickens to excruciating heights of stiffness. All the blood in my veins scalds like lava, heating me with this intolerable ache to fuck.
“Go back to bed, Sin.”
I push past her, moving to the liquor cabinet for another bottle. Unscrewing the cap, I take a long drink and prowl toward the couch, sinking into it. I’ve already drunk too much and followed too many trails of snow to count. Yet none of that had injected me with this insatiable buzz.
I drag a hand over my face and blow out my growing frustration. When the same hand meets my rough-edged jaw, I realize I’m shaking.
“Didn’t you hear me? Get the fuck out of here before I kick you out myself.”
“Letterman told me about those young girls—and what you did to the men holding them captive,” she says softly, turning her back on the sunrise. “You did the right thing, André.”
My wife falls silent immediately after speaking, cautiously lingering by the desk. I glance over at the loose strands pouring over narrow shoulders like a multi-tailed whip and visualize fisting the lengths of it into a ponytail to help me drive my furious dick deep into her throat. My mouth waters. How dare she tease me like this, even now, when my mind is chaotic.
“I know I did the right thing. I don’t need your approval. My city. My rules, remember?” Her lashes beat rapidly at the harshness I project on her. “So, run along.”
“André… I want to talk about earlier.”
My muscles tighten, coiled for punishment. “In case you haven’t sensed the vibe, I’m not exactly in the mood to communicate. Chatting—definitely not. Punishment—perhaps.”
She pushes back her shoulders and takes a noticeably deep breath. “You’re not being fair. I didn’t tell you about my mother to begin with, because I thought you were only interested in my bloodline and what it could do for you. Women like me are collateral damage in your world. But something unbelievable happened, Dré. I—I have feelings for you and couldn’t figure out if they were the old ties from our past or something new, something real. I know it might be hard for you to believe, because even I find it unthinkable when you’ve basically stolen my life.”
Her graceful feet move and before I know it, she’s standing in front of me with the hem of an oversized t-shirt grazing her milky thighs. I study the fascinating color of her skin, how it appears untouched by the sun's rays. Unlike her proud neck and the tinge of frustration sweeping upward to her cheeks.
It’s maddening to crave something that's flawless on the outside and treacherous on the inside. Either way, it feels so good to know she’s mine. That she’ll never escape from me, no matter what happens.
“Walk to the other side of the room and turn to face me,” I command. She sucks in her bottom lip and snakes a hand to her belly. “Do not make me ask twice.”
When she swiftly lifts to the balls of her feet and tentatively obeys, my senses fire up to hyper-aware and my dick switches to high alert. My mind runs away with itself. The rampant thoughts are largely about punishing her, but amid the revolving rumination, I think about loving her. How I want this more than she does.
Whether it's because I’m wasted or painfully aware of her reasons for being compliant—I’m becoming a paranoid fucking mess, crippled with doubt.
I’m turning into the man I swore I’d never become.
My father.
Once she’s in place, directly opposite me with the sunlight in her eyes and my restraint at its breaking point, I take a drink before barking out another order. “Remove the shirt.”
Her throat works as she swallows, and when her tongue peeks out from between her lips, a short-tempered snarl scrapes out of my throat. The reaction I have to such a simple thing evokes raw, painful hunger. But I’ll contain my impulses and make her work for my aching dick. Because that’s how this shit will work from now on.
The t-shirt lands by her feet, leaving her completely naked. Tits on display and pussy available. I clutch the bottle, digging my fingers into the glass with so much pressure that I’m surprised it doesn't shatter.
“This is how things will be between us now.” The hoarseness to my voice is born from a sleepless night and the urges of a man so close to letting go that every part of him hurts. “I will command. You will obey. Now turn around and let me see all of you.”
“André,” she whispers.
The hand gripping the bottle stabs the air. “Address me as your husband.”
Her eyes narrow, arresting turquoise dazzling in the blinding sunlight. She lifts her hand to shield her gaze.
“Husband,” she begins. “You can build barriers and keep me at arm’s length. You can even send me back to our room, but it won’t undo what's already been done.” An unhealthy blackness attaches itself to my temper, knowing exactly what she means. “I wanted you and you wanted me. Deny it, but I saw the devil in your eyes burn to ashes. I wasn’t fulfilling an order, rather consummatingus. It was more than just sex—and you know it.”
My hands ball at the audacity of her claim. How she dares to think she understands me or can figure out the conundrum that's breeding under my fiery flesh.
“From now on, you don’t have permission to speak,” I bite out, watching her flinch. “Turn the fuck around and let me see the ass I’m going to claim when I decide the time is right.”
I watch her chest rise and fall as her breathing accelerates. She obediently does a gradual three-sixty turn on the spot. A deep yearning to feel those silky strands tickle my pounding balls crashes over me in tidal waves.
