Page 39 of Hostile Bond
“This pretty cunt of yours is like nicotine, Wifey, and that makes you my addiction.” The echoes of his baritone convulse in my core, welcoming a savage need for him to fuck me like he’smychronic obsession.
He continues to torture me with his tongue, teeth, and exploring fingers. The coarse hairs on his jawline chafe and scrape as he feasts, only adding to the pleasure. I sink back onto the chunky tabletop, my eyes rolling under the stars and my hands caressing shivery flesh as a heart-stopping rush charges through me.
“That’s it… chase the high,” he murmurs, sucking on my clit as his fingers drive in deeper.
A moan rumbles through me, my obsession for him coming undone. I try to lift my shoulders off the wood again, to see him and touch him—connect with him. But he rises to a stand and palms my solar plexus to subdue me.
Harshly slapping each of my breasts in turn, he snarls, his feral gaze roaming my flesh as he blinks in the view of my proud nipples.
My eyes catch his, the fierce bond between us evident when his inky pupils spear me, his expression revealing something devastatingly real. Call it gut instinct or a shooting star from the solar system, but I’m attuned to the depth of his love for me.
In this moment, I recognize his desire to own me. Strong hands glide, the burn of my spanked flesh coming alive under his possessive touch.
Need spills from his hot gaze, melting me beneath his strength and turning my blood to lava. “Dré… do it…” I grit out, canting my hips, ready to combust. “Please…”
He looms over me and hums, the throaty sound so dirty and perverted. His nose nuzzles into my hair before he shoves his fingers behind my head to secure my nape, then wrenches me upward.
Our foreheads bump together and the tips of our noses squish. I exhale into his waiting mouth, entranced by the potency of our bond. His hungry tongue slips past my lips and quickly retreats, teasing, tantalizing, and slippery. My legs curl around his hips when his hand snakes to my lower back. His solid torso is plastered to mine, the power of his entrapment liquefying me.
“Don’t ever doubt the way I feel about you, Sinéad,” he says thickly. When I inhale his salty, virile scent in a gust, he puckers my lips, using his fingers. “Because it’s painfully real.” And then, without letting me respond, he smashes his mouth to mine with so much intensity, my insides liquefy, ready for more of him.
15
SINÉAD
My husband’s bullying lips claim and own mine for a few mind-melting moments. The vicious pressure matched when I sink my fingers into his hair to offer him the same aggression.
His tongue dives into my mouth, making our teeth clash. I’m a slave to his violent kisses, now and forever. And then he does something completely out of character. He suddenly slows the pace to a lenient, sensuous kiss without force or attack.
The tenderness his lips exude is completely unusual for a dominant man like him. It’s a soft, lip-clinging, almost romantic moment between a lawless husband and his infatuated wife.
The slow intensity blooms inside of me like delicate buds flourishing within the wildness living in him. And just as quickly as the significant kiss had decelerated, he gently bites my bottom lip and tugs the flesh until it pops free.
He releases my face, rectifies his posture, hitches my hips, and positions his dick at my slick entrance. Without warning, he enters me. Fully. Harshly.
I exhale in a whimper, the raspy sound a gravelly, satisfied groan. His violent thrust shoves me across the wooden surface until he grips my hip bones and drags me back onto his punishing dick.
Both of our gazes focus on the coupling of his angry shaft pounding into me. The ferocity of his movements is primitive, yet precisely controlled. I breathe through the aggressive motion of him driving into my body. Together we move at high velocity, both of us hunting an extraordinary release that can only be found in each other.
His dick burrows in deeper every time his hips piston. I don’t wait for permission. I’m struck by the phenomenal chemistry igniting between us and the sexy sounds he makes as he fucks me. It initiates a muscle clenching release, so hard-hitting that my eyes roll and my spine arches.
“Fuck, yeah, Wifey.” A strong hand grips onto my waist while he crowds me. “Tell me you love your husband's dick destroying you.”
“I… fuck…” I pant, unable to form an intelligible sentence. “Fucking… love it…”
While I’m shaking, at the tail end of a rapid release, he withdraws, drags me off the table and onto my heels. Pitch black pupils engulf starless irises, the two becoming one like captivating holes of everlasting wickedness. I wince when he snarls, grappling with the instinct to run from his dark side.
Sweat glistens on his temples, his lungs expanding with an irregular motion. We stare at each other for the longest moment as he runs his knuckles along the curve of my jaw and hollows my cheeks, puckering my lips. When he nudges his hard dick into my pelvis, my skin catches fire all over again.
His fiendish aura billows around us, uniting us both on the terrace of our private island. Together we stand, face to face, interlocked by our past, bound with vows, and held under a spell of infatuation. A crazy, head-spinning intimacy that could never be reversed, because it flows deeper than the ocean where my dead father lies.
When I think André’s about to speak, he roughly spins me around, pins my forearms behind my back, and forces me to fold forward, so my cheek rests on the table with my ass in the air.
It doesn't take him long to slap my ass. One sharp smack after the other. The fierce cracks land before I have time to brace. Each swift strike spanks my blazing buttocks with a lashing pain, excruciating in their arrival and blissful when the sea breeze kisses the lava-hot marks. Muted whimpers replace screams as I do my best to withstand his punishment.
He unleashes another slap, stronger in its collision. A groan scrapes from my throat on impact. “There isn’t a part of you that doesn’t belong to me. This perfect little ass is all mine too. It’s time for me to finally claim it.” Tremors quake the world when he growls, “Spread your legs and stay in this position. Don’t move.”
All contact vanishes, leaving me shivery. His boots scuff the stone underfoot as he moves away. There’s an odd noise, like he’s cutting flesh. I dare a glance, lifting my shoulders and angling my head to find him on his haunches. He’s hacking through a dense, sword-shaped plant using a pocket knife, its fleshy leaves jagged at the edges.
