When I said that to him, we got in a big argument, and I barely spoke to him for a week. He told me there were things way more important than sex. Well, duh. Of course. But if you can’t connect with your partner…
Let’s say I went from thinking sex would help to thinking I might deny it on the wedding night and leave him frustrated the way he’s done to me. Not exactly a great way to start a marriage. I keep telling myself that once the big day is over, things will settle, get better.
And now this monkey wrench – on my hands and knees in the home of a wolf shapeshifter who kidnapped me and gave me the best sex of my life, but he’s only into me because of that spell, and while he sleeps the sex off, I’m hunting down the ring and trying to plan my sister’s rescue. Her rescue from the same fate – a fate our beloved deceased aunt spent her lottery winnings to purchase for us.
And I realize as I think about this that there are tears falling down my cheeks again. But it’s obvious that I was spoon-fed a witch’s brew that makes me cheat and cry. And that, coupled with the ball of stress I’ve been for the past few months, it has to be why I can’t stop the waterworks.
Dashing the useless wetness from my face, I softly close the bathroom door so I can use the facilities.
As I do, I become hyper-aware of my poor vagina. It’s as if it has been woken up from a long winter’s nap and promptly thrown into the ring to go twenty rounds in an MMA fight. A fight it never even trained for. No wonder. I’ve never been sexed by someone that hung. Not to mention the way he did it - there was something magical about that penis. The vibrating. The way it felt like it doubled in size inside me, so unbelievably full – stuffed to the brim. And all the things he did with his mouth, his fingers, even the way he looked at me while he did it. The growling noises. And he bit me. He bit my neck and that was insanely sensual; my neck is one of my favorite places to get affection and Whatshisface has been told ten times about that but still doesn’t bother to give it much (if any) attention. Though, fuck did it hurt for a split second when his teeth broke the skin, but then it felt beyond good.
My fingertips find the spot and my nipples immediately tingle.
Whoa. My neck has always been sensitive, but phew… that’s… wow.
And that purring thing he did – like a snake charmer having me dance up out of a wicker basket to follow his flute – yeah, his flute. Musical and magical.
I realize I’m staring off into space while sitting on the toilet, a goofy smile on my face while I play with the teeth marks. I’m insanely aroused right now.
I shake it off, finish my bathroom business, and haul my panties and jeans up before I move to the sink to wash my hands.
Faced with my reflection, my heart drops and I’m about to give myself a dirty look because my conscience is raw and painful right now, but before I can do that, I catch sight of that mark on my neck. Is that going to scar? My wedding gown has a plunging neckline and I’m wearing my hair up, so yikes, that’s gonna show. Distinct looking teeth marks.
Fuck.
My heart plays hopscotch in my chest. My wedding pictures, photos I’ll look at for the rest of my life – could have prominent love bites on my neck from a man that isn’t my husband.
Even if he thinks he’s my husband…
A supernatural stranger fucked me raw – doing it bareback and bit me, breaking the skin. Crazy. Wild. Unfathomable. But it happened. Because I let it. Voodoo or spells are involved, but still… I should’ve tried to stop him. I lay there while he undressed me and then actively participated. And got all warm and squishy as he said sweet words to me that sounded better than any wedding vows I can think of.
I can’t think about it now. What I do need to think about is finding the ring, finding Ivy, and getting us gone. I’ll think about all this later – probably excruciatingly.
An evil thought crosses my mind.
I’ve been thinking of that ring as a weight on my finger, a weight on my shoulders, even. If it’s gone, if it’s lost forever then that means I don’t have to wear it every single day for the rest of my life.
Hm.
I begin to formulate a story in my head. Definitely not the truth.