Page 103 of Devil's Vows
I trail my hand down her inner thigh, and chills spread over her skin as she opens a few more inches. I lean in and nudge, my fingertips just shy of spreading her open between her short, dark curls. At any other time, this could have been the hottest fucking thing since the devil spewed fire into Hell, but she’s clamping back against my touch, breathing stalled.
Fuck. She’s petrified.
“Breathe,moya ptichka, just breathe for me,” I murmur as Icircle my thumb on her mound’s soft, sensitive skin, a touch that’s usually arousing, but the whole atmosphere has changed. “I’m not going to hurt you, Gabriella.”
She drags in a breath and exhales a shaky one, but doesn’t move, hands plastered to her face. Her whole body seems to quiver, tense, and all I want now is for this to be over so I can cradle her in my arms, steer us back to the path we were on before this little detour.
“One more breath,” I say softly. “And then you’re opening up for me, understand?”
A barely perceptible nod, but she pulls in a strained breath and collapses her legs. I run my fingers over her sex, watching her reaction, but she’s breathing now, nipples hard, gooseflesh spreading over her skin. She is cold, in shock.
I dip my fingers between her folds and split them wide as I lean in to look closer.
Two tips of metal, one mostly hidden by her soft curls. The most intimate of secrets. To be discovered only by her husband. She’s so fucking wet, dripping for me with lust I bet she didn’t understand before today, and my need to fuck her hasn’t abated, but this…
I feel the rounded tip of the piercing and freeze. It isn’t smooth; it definitely isn’t the usual go-to clitoral piercing.
I read its shape like braille. The little dips and valleys, a picture forming in my mind. An icy fist closes around my body, squeezing the air out of me.
No. Just no fucking way.
She clams up, closing her legs, but I’m not done.
It can’t be… It just fucking can’t.
“Gabriella,” I hiss as I clamber deeper onto the bed, a knee trapping hers as I hold her other leg down, forcing her to splay wide, my eyes focusing on every last detail of her swollen clit, the piercing and its two ends. It’s fucking art, the finest work ajeweler could achieve, with two tiny skulls on each end of the barbell-style piercing.
My blood pressure spikes as adrenaline starts to pump through my veins. I’ve seen this type of piercing before, and it didn’t end well. And I really thought this time would be different, that I could have a chance for more than a fucked-up arranged marriage?—
“Who the fuck are you?” I growl as I pull the reins on my budding anger.
“I’m Gabriella Scalera,” she manages between two shattering sobs.
“Fuck if I believe that.” This piercing is proof to the contrary. And technically, it’s Gabriella Petrova now. “Who. The fuck. Are you?” I repeat, but she only shakes her head, tears streaming.
I run my finger over her clit, slick with arousal, testing if the piercing moves, and she jolts as the pleasure wave hits her. Fuck. She’s so sensitive there. No wonder she comes in minutes.
She lets go of her face to slap my hand away. “Don’t.”
I won’t put up with this shit. She’s no challenge for me as I trap her in seconds, wrists gathered above her head, legs splayed, chest heaving, breasts to fucking die for, but tears flowing, her fear morphing into anger.
“Don’t?” I snarl, staring into her eyes. “Don’t?We’re married and I have every fucking right to touch you.”
I circle my finger around her clit again, but I’m trembling. Unknown rage is simmering up in me, because I’ve seen one of these piercings before. Platinum, delicate, permanent.Soldered. No threads to untwist it and take it off. It’s part of her body, and with the flesh closing up the only way to remove it is with surgery. “Are you a spy? Are you here to kill me? In my fucking sleep? Once we’re in the same bed? Or is poison your go-to? And what about my girls? You’re here for them, too?”
“No—I’m…I’m nothing of the sort.”
“No?” I smirk, but it’s fueled by rage. “What other secrets are you keeping, my little convent girl?”
A blush blooms on her cheeks, and she blinks, her body language giving away that she’s hiding more from me.
I’m shaking, livid. Walked into this blind as a bat the second time around. I must be cursed. “Tell me who sent you.”
“Nobody. I—I?—”
She strains against me, but it’s a joke. She weighs probably half of my body weight, and I can hold this position forever.
“Then tell me who the fuck did this to you, because you were there, in person, conscious at some point.”
