“I think I do,” he says. “Did you want me to hear you on our wedding night, too, Eliza?”
“Hear me doing what?” I ask, genuinely confused this time.
“I think you did,” he purrs, stroking my hair behind my ear with his free hand. “Is that why you said those things? Or was it because that’s what you like? You want me to rough you up and fuck you dry?”
I realize then what’s he’s talking about, that he mistakenly thought Lizzie’s words were mine. All this time, he’s thought I was avoiding sex because I didn’t want him to know I’m not a virgin.
“That wasn’t me,” I say, my voice coming out breathier than I want. It’s just that he’s so close to me, his body almost touching mine. And even though I was just all over some stranger in the club, this is different. This is King. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt about anyone. Vulnerable, and irresistible, and helpless, and terrified. I’ve never been so close to him before, and my body trembles at his nearness. I can feel the heat of his body crackling across my skin, can smell his scent, something spicy and salty at once that makes my mouth water. I feel electric, combustible, like I’m gasoline and he’s a match hovering just out of reach.
I want to know what happens when the match is dropped.
“That was my friend Lizzie,” I whisper, gripping the windowsill behind me.
He hasn’t spoken, hasn’t moved, but his eyes are drinking me in, caressing me until I ache for just a brush of his skin against mine. I don’t know if I’m more scared by how much he wants me, or by how much I want him.
“Prove it,” he says again, his gaze heated. His fingertips brush the bare skin of my thigh, and a tremor goes through me. I bite my lip to keep from gasping, and his hungry eyes follow the movement, locking on my mouth.
I can’t move. I feel like an animal, frozen with fear. My pulse races for a different reason when his fingers move up, slowly trailing across my skin and sending goosebumps blooming over my body. He hooks a finger into the hem of my little dress, and I shudder again, my own grip tightening on the windowsill. He adds a second finger, working it under the tight fabric. I take a shaky breath, my whole body tight with anticipation as he moves another finger into the hem. He tugs slightly at the stretchy fabric, and my eyes drop closed, my nails pressing into the paint on the sill.
King draws a labored breath and drags my dress up with one slow, sure move. His hands fall to my narrow hips, and I suck in a breath, my eyes flying open at the sensation of his rough, hot hands on my skin. He thumbs the straps of my bikini underwear, swallowing hard enough that I can hear it in the silence between us. Nothing moves except his thumbs, toying with me as they move up and down over the thin straps.
“Show me,” he commands.
“No.”
After a pause, he steps in, his chest pushing me back, pinning me against the window. His knee pushes between my thighs, pushing me back so my thighs bite into the sill right below my ass. “Then admit you’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Then what’s wrong with you?”
“I fucking hate you,” I snap. “That’s what’s wrong.”
“Get over it,” he growls, grabbing my knee and opening my legs. “No one said you had to love me. But our families want a baby, so you do have to fuck me.”
“No,” I gasp, shoving at his chest. “If you need it that bad, I’ll give you head.” I struggle out of his grasp and try to sink down onto my knees, but King grabs me under the arms and hauls me up.
“And have you bite my dick off? How stupid do you think I am?”
“I won’t, I swear,” I say, my voice desperate as I struggle to free myself. “Just don’t touch me. I’ll do it if you don’t touch me. It’s my job as your wife, right?”
I manage to slip out of his grasp and drop to my knees before he can protest. I’m relieved to be off my shaking legs. I pull down the skirt of my dress, discretely wiping my palms on the fabric before reaching for his pants.
“Eliza,” he says, his voice rough as I kneel up and reach for the drawstring on his sweats. “You don’t have to—”
He breaks off when I flatten my palm and run it along the ridge in his pants. I feel his cock throb through his sweats, and a tremor of something goes through me. I shift my position to press my knees together against the ache growing there. But I won’t pay attention to that. I’ll pay attention to servicing my husband. I know this won’t work for long. He’s right—our families want a baby from this union, and I’m well aware that this won’t get us one. But maybe it will buy me time, a few days at least. If I can satisfy him, he might not press the pregnancy issue.
I can do this. I might even like it. It feels… Good. Exciting and dangerous but not too scary. I’ve only seen a cock in a few porn clips Lizzie sent us once when we admitted we’d never seen one, and never in real life. I swallow hard at the size of it, my pulse fluttering in my throat. It’s so much bigger than I expected, and so hot I can feel the heat through his pants. Suddenly, a thrill of anticipation goes through me at the thought of peeling down his sweats, seeing it bare.
I slide my hand back down it to the base, until I feel the lump of his balls. I stop, not sure if I’m supposed to touch them, too. Something about them feels embarrassing, like I went too far. Obviously I know guys have balls, but even when I saw porn, I don’t remember them. I never paid any attention to them, and now I’m not sure what to do about them. They’re so…visceral.
King clears his throat, running a hand over the back of my head and lifting my face. “You don’t have to do that,” he says, his voice low almost choked. If I couldn’t tell by the hardness against my palm, his voice lets me know exactly how much he wants me to do it, even if he’s giving me an out.
Our eyes meet, and I swallow hard. There’s so much in those eyes, but I can’t read what it all means. And for once, I want to. I want to know what’s mixed into that longing in his gaze. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “I want to.”
He looks like he might protest, but I undo the drawstring on his sweats before he can. He pulls off his shirt and tosses it on the bed as I reach around him, tugging his pants free of his ass and lowering them. I sink back on my heels to admire the raw beauty of his naked body, all chiseled angles and lean muscle. I want to trace the V of his hips, run my fingers around the sculpted muscles of his abs. But most of all, I find myself staring at his cock, standing tall and proud against his lower belly, straight and deeper in color than the rest of his skin.
A hot thrill races through me, adding pressure to the ache between my thighs. His cock is so… Animal. It looks rough and brutish and wild, so unlike the calculating, reserved man it belongs to. It makes me tremble with fear as I lean forward and gingerly wrap my fingers around it.