“You have one job as my wife,” he says slowly, his eyes burning into mine. “Your job is to spread your legs and let me relieve some tension, and you can’t even do that. I thought you were a prize, Eliza, but you’re less than worthless.”
I shove at his chest, his words hitting me somewhere too close to home, too close to pain. He doesn’t move, even when I push him as hard as I can. His fingers only tighten. But I’m done being scared.
“I’m not the one who’s worthless,” I shoot back. “And I can spread my legs and relieve my own tension. You should try it. Or get a whore and get all the diseases your dick can carry. I don’t care because it’ll never be inside me. You might think this sucks, but at least you’ve had your whores. You can fuck a different girl every night, and no one will blink. I’ll die a fucking virgin.”
He smirks, but it’s a cruel, cold expression. “Don’t count on it.”
I swallow hard, past an ache that’s growing in my throat. “You’re the one who likes to brag about all the women you’ve fucked. So go fuck one. I’m sure it’ll be easy to find one. Get yourself a littlecumarelike all the men do. I don’t care. I don’t want you. I’d rather die a virgin than fuck the most vile man on earth.”
“I don’t want to fuck acumare,” he growls. “I want to fuck my wife.”
We stare at each other a moment, both of us breathing hard. He knows I want him. He’s made me show him; he’s made me cum. But he’s never showed me the same. I could feel it when he pressed up against me, could feel that hardness that made my throat tighten and butterflies tremble in my belly, but I didn’t think he’d ever say it after I turned him down on our honeymoon. I thought I’d feel more triumphant if he ever admitted it, but all I feel is scared. His eyes burn with something more than anger, and I know he’s going to take what he wants. There’s nothing I can do to stop him.
“What are you going to do to me?” I whisper at last. I know what happens to people who rat out their family. And as much as I like to think otherwise, King is my family now. If he wants to cut out my tongue for this, it wouldn’t be out of line. My father can’t protect me anymore. That’s what he’s been telling me. I belong to King now.
“I’m not going to do anything to you,carina mia,” he purrs, stroking my throat gently with his thumbs. “You’re going to do something for me.”
I swallow hard. “What?”
“You’re going to get down on your knees and wrap those pretty lips around my cock and suck me until I cum down this lovely throat. And you’re going to remember what that mouth is for next time you open it.”
I nod mutely and sink down on shaking legs. It could be so much worse.
King chuckles. “Not here,piccola.”
He takes my arm and leads me into the bedroom, closing the door behind us. My whole body starts shaking, as if I wasn’t at his mercy before, as if we were less alone when we weren’t in a bedroom.
He leads me over to the closet, stopping when I’m right in front of the mirrored closet doors. He stands behind me, my nervous gaze meeting his cold stare in the mirror.
“Take off your clothes,” he says, his voice hard and emotionless.
I knew this day was coming, that he’d eventually take what was his, but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying. I nod and reach for the button on my jeans, but King holds up a hand to stop me. He steps back, stopping at the foot of the bed to watch me undress.
“Your shirt first,” he says.
I swallow hard, the aftertaste of alcohol sour on my tongue. Then I turn to face him, reach for the hem of my shirt, and peel it off over my head, letting the soft fabric flutter to the floor at my feet. King’s eyes drop to my chest, his gaze locked on my breasts as I unhook the white bra he demanded I buy. I let it drop to the floor on top of my shirt. The heat in his gaze makes my core tremble, and I find my body responding to the hunger in his eyes even as I fear the consequences.
My fingers tremble as I undo the button on my jeans and slide the zipper down. I watch him, biting my lip, wanting… Something. Some reaction. I feel so alone standing halfway across the room from him, my bare skin on display while he’s still in his clothes, a pair of black dress slacks and a white undershirt stained with blood. He holds his dress shirt on his shoulder, and I can see blood soaking through that as well.
I gulp, my gaze roaming over the outline of his sculpted shoulder muscles, the hint of his washboard abs I can see through the thin fabric of his undershirt, the pebbles of his nipples in his strong pecs. His arms are beautiful, brown and strong, the muscles standing out even when he doesn’t tense, lined with thick veins. He’s so young that he doesn’t usually intimidate me. But with blood on him, he looks like what he is.
Dangerous. Deadly. A killer.
A chill goes through me, and my bare nipples tighten painfully.
“Are you wet?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Touch yourself,” he orders.
“What?”
“You said you like to spread your legs for yourself,” he says. “I don’t know if you’re lying to piss me off, or if you’re really taking what’s mine. I want to see you do it, if you’re really stupid enough to touch that cunt after I told you no one but me was allowed that privilege.”
“That includes me?” I ask incredulously. “I can’t touch my own body?”
“You can touch your body,” he says. “Except there. Your cunt is mine alone. If it needs attention, I will touch it, and taste it, and fuck it. That’s my job as your husband. Not anyone else’s, and not yours.”