Page 47 of Hostile Vows
I’m thrashing and kicking when a hand settles on my belly, possessive in its placement and weight. “You’re happy to deny sex, Wifey, so we’re going to play a little game. Let’s find out how long it will take for those quivering thighs to willingly part.”
“Please… take the blindfold off…” This time I’m actually scared. “I’ll scream, Dré.”
“Good. That’s what I want. Scream and I’ll go harder.”
The overwhelming sensation of being trapped without sight strips away my sense of control and sends barbs of fear through me. Before, when he’d assaulted me in Sky Hotel, I couldn’t tell if his eyes darkened from desire or cruel intentions, but at least I could see what was happening. Which makes this setup unfair.
Unable to see, my other senses are enhanced. The scent of tobacco and booze is heavy in the air, matching the natural masculine scent of him. A muskiness of freshly washed hair is detectable as he looms nearby; however, there’s another aroma, an unfamiliar fragrance surrounding us—maybe vanilla.
The bed dips, and then he’s on me. Teeth latch onto my sensitive nipples, biting and sucking. It shouldn't send volts through me, but it does. My hips buck to throw him off. But he doesn't shift; the pressure bearing down on my legs is dominant and strong.
“Get the fuck off me!” I hiss, my head rolling from side to side, doing my best to try to unfasten whatever is covering my eyes.
Fingertips dig into my breasts. “You have gorgeous fucking tits.” He smooshes them together, cruelly forcing me to imagine how they must look to him in this position. “You’re a dirty little tease for wearing my t-shirt without a bra. These hard nipples are so easily accessible.”
It's only then I feel the soft cotton swathing my throat and guess that he’s simply hitched the t-shirt higher while I had slept. The whole ordeal earlier had depleted my energy levels to the point I was bone-tired. Falling asleep on his bed was my choice, and now my biggest mistake.
“You said you wouldn’t rape me…” My voice verges on hysterical.
I can’t fathom the level of intensity I’m drowning under or the unbearable urges swelling inside of me from this man's forceful control. His fingers continue to manipulate my breasts in tandem, then flicking my nipples for his amusement. A flurry of goosebumps rocket over my bare skin.
Puffs of his liquored breath feathers the lower half of my face, giving away his eagerness. “Who said anything about sex? This is all about pushing your limits.”
“You married me to gain Frankie’s inheritance, didn’t you? So why the hell are you torturing me like this?”
He bites my nipple and I yelp. “As yourhotshothusband, I have the right to stake my claim on your sexy body. I’m not doing anything that doesn’t make you come alive or doesn’t turn you on. You were born with a stubborn streak, and I was born with impatience.”
“Impatience doesn't need to lead to cruelty,” I pant.
Wetness smears the bitten nipple; the gentle suckling turns pleasurable. The sort of forbidden gratification that stimulates my core and electrifies the soft downy hairs on my body. When he hums, the vibrations rumble through me in waves of unforgivable shivers.
The nipple pops free of his mouth. “Was that cruel?” he asks sarcastically.
“Very cruel…”
“And this?”
There’s an echoey crack, like a lid popping open. Liquid splashes all over my chest, tiny beads rolling every which way. I flinch at the sensation. Not quite cold, yet not warm either. Large hands settle on my abdomen and begin to confidently massage.
They slip and slide over the curves of my breasts, the slick oily layer helping his firm strokes become more possessive and hungrier. Confused and enraged by the game I’m powerless to witness, my breath hitches. Yet, behind the frustration, I feel worshiped.
“Fuck, these tits feel good,” he says, the tone of his accent thick and seductive. “They’d look good hugging my aching dick too.” His weight shifts when he scoots up the mattress.
The only awareness I have of him are his knees close to my rib cage and the sensation of his bare ass meeting my pelvis, bringing his proud dick to lie heavily on my sternum. It rests there like a column of rock-hard granite.
“We have a score to settle, you and I.”
“What do you mean?”
“I haven’t punished you for leaving.”
“Leaving?” A merciless grip seizes my throat.
I gasp at the brutality of it, pointlessly writhing beneath the dominating force of his contained anger. Terror has me straining to see in the darkness and flailing like a dying animal. The mental comparison triggers my memory.
“Sta…” I begin to choke out the safe word, except his hand jumps to my mouth and traps the final syllable.
“Don’t say it. Not yet, Sin. The only words you will repeat to me are…” I sense the harshness of his expression by the rasp in his voice. “… I promise.”
