With lightning speed, he flipped his hand to capture my wrist.
I exhaled a soundless gasp. My helplessness was instant, along with a new, deep-seated yearning to submit. Being in his firm grip turned the gentle pulse between my legs into an angry throb. He could overpower me without much effort. And I wanted it. Every heated look, every restrained touch, and each inciting, sizzling word he’d uttered in my ear since he’d come back into my life suddenly culminated inside me, demanding relief.
I lifted my hips just enough to draw his eyes back to them.
He released my wrist, my skin prickling with the loss of his heat. After rounding the bed and unbuttoning and removing his pants, he climbed under the covers next to me.
Warmth spread through me. My nipples tingled as I waited for him to roll over and be inside me like he’d promised he would.
Promised? He’d meant that as a threat.
But I wasn’t scared. I was turned on, and he wasn’t doing anything about it.
That was it?
After what felt like minutes of nothing, I moved my head over my shoulder. Silence. Then, for the first time in this bed, I turned to him.
On his back, he had his eyes on the ceiling, but they drifted to meet mine.
All pretense evaporated, and I bit my bottom lip.
He licked his.
The small distance between us nearly crackled with heat.
And yet, Cristiano somehow remained cool. Just like our wedding night, he’d made me admit the worst to myself—that I wanted it. All so he could assert his dominance by leaving me on the ledge alone.
“I knew you wouldn’t do it,” I said, acid on my tongue, and turned forward again.
Suddenly, he was at my back, his mouth at my ear. “Tell me something, sweet Natalia.” He reached over me, took my hand, and pushed it past my waistband, down the front of my pants. “What filth runs through your mind when you touch your pretty pussy? What do you fantasize about?”
Unable to hide my sharp pang of desire, I sucked in an audible breath. “Not you.”
Over my underwear, he used my own fingers to apply pressure to my clit. “I already know that,” he said, heat gathering beneath his touch. “Because you need permission to go into the darkest corners of your fantasies. I can give you that.”
He held my hand there but didn’t move. He wanted me to scrape the barrel of my mind, and he knew I wouldn’t do it on my own. Just the thought, just hearing pussy spill from his lips, my stomach filled with butterflies. I chased the feeling, pushing my hips against my palm, and was rewarded with a ribbon of bliss.
“Getting fucked by me doesn’t scare you. You’re only afraid you’ll enjoy it. And that afterward, you might want it. And that you won’t be able to resist asking for it.” He met my next thrust, pressing my hand against the pulsating knot between my legs. With the thrill it inspired, I bit my lip to contain my whimper. “That’s why you won’t call yourself my wife. It’s easier to play my captive. Follow that path, in the privacy of your mind. I will you to. See how long it takes you to come.”
I slipped into that rare and mystifying sense of safety I’d found with him before. I’d been in more precarious situations with him than this one, and he hadn’t hurt me. I’d known he wouldn’t. I trusted that instinct now, closed my eyes, and let myself fall into pleasure’s tightening grip. Nobody would know if I wondered how it would feel for Cristiano to turn me over and press me into the bed. Nobody, not even him, knew that I was grinding against our hands as I fantasized about opening to him. About how completely and brutally he would fill me, even though it was wrong on every level.
“I can sense your disappointment that I haven’t broken you in yet—but I will.” His hips pressed against my backside, and this time, I couldn’t hold in my moan. The size and solidity of his erection was intimidating but not surprising—what caught me off guard was how it answered a primal, unwelcome need inside me to receive him. “You’ll take me in each one of your three holes,” he continued, urging his hips against my ass so I was stuck gyrating between my hand and his cock. “I like that your holes could belong to anyone—but they don’t. They belong to you. My wife. That pleases me to no end.”
I groaned an ugly and guttural sound I’d never heard from myself as my arousal reached new heights. If Cristiano viewed my body as property, that meant no part of me was off limits. In that raw moment, I was more turned on by what I didn’t know than by what I did. I’d only thought of him on top of me, breaking me in—not all the other ways he could ruin me. A blissful feeling spread through me, his seduction as quick and ruthless as it was slow and mounting.