Page 42 of Hostile Vows
17
SINÉAD
I flinch at the harsh bite of his command and almost cry when I realize I’m disappointed. What the hell is wrong with me?
Doing as he asks, I pop open the top button and lower the zipper. He doesn't wait, grabbing the waistband and roughly tugging until my ass is exposed and my knees are shackled with leather.
“Hands to the wall.” He runs a dominant hand over my bare flesh, so it prickles without my consent.
I try to look back at him, needing to meet his eyes and find out if they’re black with cruel intentions or swirling with desire. However, it’s too late. Ruthless fingers land on the back of my skull and I’m forced forward, saving myself from face-planting into the wood by slamming my palms to the wall.
He moves directly behind me. “Good girl.” His controlling touch glides over my buttocks again, strong fingers manipulating the flesh. “My dirty, dick-hungry wife has a sexy-as-fuck-shaped ass.” The thick, approving grunt he offers attacks me with temptation. “So smooth, round, and ivory, perfect for marks of discipline.” The warmth of his torso lines my spine, his hoarse whisper reaching my ear. “Who do you belong to, Sin?”
“Dré… not here…” My pleading voice escapes in a pathetic mewl.
Ruthless fingers wrap around the hair at my nape and tug. “Answer me,” he demands.
“You,” I blurt out, aware of every wild tingle within me.
“And who am I to you?”
“My husband,” I croak, hungrier than ever for a man I should hate, but can’t stop myself from craving.
He wields the sharp edge to cut me deep, to slash up my world and leave me gasping for more. It was never like this with Liam. Or any of the other losers I’d hooked up with in the past. Those men weren’t even in the same stratosphere as André. I’ve never experienced domination at the hands of such power, and right now, it’s getting me off.
“That’s right. And I’ll never let you forget it. From this day forward, I’m the only man who’ll ever fuck you. For better or for worse, you’ll take all of me. For richer or for poorer, you belong to me. In sickness and health, you will lie beside me. There’s no getting away from me this time.”
He pushes off me, the sudden movement vanquishing the heat his body had created and leaving me with chills. While I foolishly mourn the loss of his closeness, a loud smack connects with my bare ass.
The echo of punishment slices the atmosphere and shreds the hush with my tattered gasp. A burning hot pain spreads across flesh, bringing a sting of humiliation with it. He doesn’t give me a moment of self-preservation when a second slap lands on the same flaming spot, this time more agonizing than the last.
“They represent the bullets I should have fired into that guy you were flirting with.” His voice slips into darkness, the tone raspy and unfamiliar as if he’s wrangling with the presiding monster within his soul. “And these…” A third slap collides like a whip, firm and sadistic. “These are what you’ll think about the next time you decide to defy me.”
I blink away the tears misting my eyes and clench my jaw to brace for the pending assault. He continues to spank me without hesitation, the crack of every slap rising to the high ceilings. Confusing whimper-like groans escape me as I grow wetter when he grunts out his carnal satisfaction.
He’s in control and I’m willingly giving him that power. Perhaps his depravity is what I've been craving without fully understanding what I needed. Why Liam could never impress me, or anyone else for that matter.
To date, I’ve never felt satisfied. As if I was faulty and there was no one equipped to repair me. I’ve fought for myself in a man’s world, but had never taken the time to figure out what they could offer to set my soul alight. To me, men have always been a means to an end. Not a necessity. Creatures who steal and lie. Assholes who use their fists to make a point.
I’d fuck on autopilot and fail to fully soar, always assuming it was my fault. But maybe this is what my tough shell truly yearns for, an attack so sexually awakening it could crack open all my barriers and excite my unhappy soul. This isn’t brutality like an evil punch to the belly or a hateful dig in the face. No, it’s something intriguing. An erotic lever I never knew existed, but have allowed André to press.
My shaky forearms take the weight of my exhausted body bearing down on them. Sweat trickles along my spine and my pulse thrums with life. It’s a sickness, a secret animalistic desire that only a fool would give in to. I’ve lost count of the slaps he’s dished out. Somewhere along the line, I think he has too. Until he hisses, “Eight.”
“Enough!” I beg, if only for it to stop in time to comprehend why it’s becoming so stimulating.
“It’s not nearly enough yet,” he replies with chilling calmness.
The safe word we agreed upon sits on the tip of my tongue, its lightweight presence a comfort. I could scream it over and over, but from a dark corner of my mind, I decide to lock it away for another day.
As I mentally banish it, he unleashes a smack on one cheek and another on the opposite, causing me to yelp from the rapid shock of it.
“Ten. Now that's enough.”
I’m a mess. My pulse is hysterical and the wetness between my thighs is shameful and illicit. He snakes a domineering hand around my waist and yanks me into his solid chest. My fast breaths chase every rise and fall of his. But when he drops his mouth to my neck and bites, I almost buckle. The sharpness of his teeth is quickly pacified by suction. I try to shake my head, except he’s latched on hard, inevitably bruising my flesh with a hickey.
Once he’s confident he’s left an ugly stain, his whiskered jaw brushes the side of my face.
“I’ll let you decide what happens next.” There’s a gravelly tone to his bass voice that elevates the hairs on my scalp. He sounds like a completely different person.
