Page 49 of The Mafia's Bride
“You’re going to wear my cum like a goddamn mark of claiming, Sloane. You’re going to move your shit into our bedroom, and I better find you in my bed when I come home tonight. No shower. No touching yourself.”
She glares, cheeks red but the lust is there. That hellfire that wants to burn me as much as I want it to glows from her eyes, heaven and hell in a fallen angel.
She whimpers something and I smile, my orgasm taking some of my stress away.
Seeing her covered in my release, at my mercy, makes me want to sink into her again, feel her nails dig into my back, her fury flaying me apart as my name leaves her lips.
Not yet.
“I’m sure you’re saying you’re never getting into my bed.” I swirl my finger in the cum, painting her lips around the ball. “But you will.”
The challenge in her eyes almost undoes me right there.
“How badly do you want to come, little menace? Enough to put yourself in my bed, legs wide open, spread for me and my tongue?”
She inhales, and that’s all the confirmation I need.
“Move into our bedroom and I’ll lick every part of this pretty pussy until you can’t tell one orgasm from the next.” I bite her earlobe, feeling her shudder under me. My cock twitches, blood flowing back as if the promise of tasting her can revive it.
Shoving off of her, I grab my suit jacket and zip myself back into my pants.
Immediately she sits up, unclasping the ball gag and sighs, tasting me on her lips.
“Remember, Sloane. My cum stays on those tits and you’re in my bed. Don’t disappoint me.” I pull the gloves higher, lowering my sleeves.
I don’t bother to wait for confirmation. If she’s as needy as she appears, Sloane will listen.
Beyond that, Sloane feels the connection that I do. She likes to pretend she doesn’t want me, she wants to act unaffected, but I’ve seen the flames of desire in those eyes.
Right now, she needs space to process it. But I know, by tonight, I’ll have my wife finally in my bed, and that causes that warmth to stir again, weaving around my heart like a noose.
19
SLOANE
My plan to end this marriage after the wedding is failing spectacularly.
I spent two weeks avoiding my new husband, trying to learn about him, this house, and use something against him. Unfortunately, I’ve found very little hiding in my bedroom.
I didn’t expect him to come into my space with the force of a storm, and take me, use me for his own pleasure.
Swallowing, I sit, adjusting my legs. If I’m being honest, it felt good to be used. For someone to want me that badly, to need me with such passion, that he had to have me right there, was a turn on.
It’s probably why I’m in his bed, naked, waiting for him.
I should have thrown a vase at Lex’s head the minute he entered my bedroom without my permission. I should have bit his dick when he shoved it into my mouth.
But I didn’t. Instead, I enjoyed it. Enjoyed him and his words, body primed to explode.
I sit on the silken grey-blue sheets, the fabric cool against my heated flesh. I’m stark naked, body shivering from anticipation and the chill in the air.
For some reason, I didn’t shower either. His cum is still on my chest, dried on my throat and between my breasts.
My breath halts as I remember the deep growl as his seed spilled all over me, his taste on my lips.
My throat is still sore from his assault but it’s only heightening my arousal. I’ve never been truly throat-fucked before.
Between our wedding night, weeks without release and the episode earlier today, my body is so tight with need that it’s turned into a crippling pain. All because my husband seems to know my buttons, seems to know me in ways no one else has.
