Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Eight
HER
He’s on me before I get to the door. Grabbing my hips, he throws me into the air with a twist of his arms. It forces me into a spin, and as I fall, now facing him, his hands land on my hips again. With a burst of speed, he arrives at the wall, crowding me in with his body, wrapping my legs around his waist. Grabbing my wand, he yanks it out of my hand. My heart slams wildly as he swivels it around so he’s holding the handle.
“If you think I will give up after one rejection,” he growls, “you are mistaken. I told you you are mine, Micha. I didn’t mean that only when you love me back, when you are at your best. You are mine when you hate me, when you stab me in the heart, when you fucking rip it out with your rejection.
“And I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you. So I’m going to ask you again. Will you marry me?”
“Fine, then yes,” I snap just to get him to let me go. I’m mad as all hel.
His jaw locks, so I know he heard the sarcasm in those three little words. Leaning in, my back coming off the wall, I sneer, “But I will never marry you out of love. I will never choose to be your wife. I will say, ‘I do,’ only because you purchased me. So I hope you know that every day you have me is just a fucking lie.”
I lean back against the wall, holding his gaze and hoping he’s suffering. Because he’s asking me to be his while still smelling like that fucking bitch.
And I know it is all in my head. He had four showers the first day he fucked her and two every day since. There’s no way I can actually smell her, but he’s forever tainted to me. I can still imagine his cock thrusting inside her and his lips on her nipples as he moans, “That’s it, baby. Fuck…you feel so good. Fuck me just like that.”
And I know I might have given him permission to fuck her when I was hurting and didn’t want us to be together, but he did it. He took what we had, all the first moments, the fact that we were each other’s onlys, and he went and fucked her. He fucked her because he wanted to.
So no, Varius will never be my only anymore.
Even if I have his ring on my finger, I will smell her on him for the rest of my life. Especially since she is living in our godsdamn house, sitting at our godsdamn table, and smiling like she can still feel my husband’s godsdamn cock as he came inside her.
So fuck him.
And fuck that bitch.
He never even apologized for doing it. And I can’t help but think, is that because Varius doesn’t see it as an issue? He is a Boss, and Bosses have mistresses. And the idea that he’s planning on fucking all the hoes who throw themselves at him is making me feral. If I ever find one in our bed, I’ll burn the entire house down, starting with the mattress with her tied to it.
So yeah, I’m going to make him suffer just as much as I am.
“Good,” he snaps.
I blink. Then narrow my eyes at him. “What do you mean ‘good?’”
“You will be with me every day, so I accept your yes.”
My mouth drops open as I sputter, completely caught off guard.
“We’ll marry tomorrow evening,” he says.
“I was joking,” I snap.
“I don’t care. I want to be married to you, Micha. I want everyone to know you are mine. I want you to know, so I’m going to accept your yes, and if you hate me for it, I will simply beg for your forgiveness later. I can add it to the list of all the other shit I’ve done.”
“You can’t just add to the list!”
“Why not? You’re already mad at me; it won’t change anything.”
“You – you fucking neanderthal!” I sputter.
“Dayne is to arrive later this evening,” he says, his eyes calculating as he ignores my protests completely. “Lou isn’t supposed to get here for another two days, but I’m sure your father –”
“Dayne’s coming?”
He nods. “He should be here in an hour or so.”
I grit my teeth, not wanting to show him how happy I am over that. But fuck, can I use a drink and a long ass talk with my bestie. Except I can’t drink because I’m fucking pregnant. Dammit.
“I’ll need to invite my capos and Aleric so no one thinks they’re being disrespected, but with Talon dead, they’ll want to talk to me anyways.” He nods. “They’ll come.”
“Well, I’m still not fucking you tomorrow,” I snap.
“We’ll need to consummate the marriage.”
“Then you’ll have to rape me.”
His eyes grow heated. “I was out of control then, Micha, and I am sorry for not listening to you. But when I fuck you tomorrow, it’ll be because you begged me for it.”
My jaw clenches at the same time my pussy does.
His nostrils flare as his eyes dip low, and I am suddenly aware that he can smell my arousal. My cheeks heat as his gaze turns hot and heavy.
“Shall we see if I can get you to beg now?” he murmurs as he lifts his eyes to mine.
“Don’t you fucking touch me.”
His fingers dig into my hips as he steps back, and my legs drop from around his waist. He sets me on the floor, then places his palms flat on the wall as he leans his head down to mine. My heart hammers as he stares at me with so much wicked heat.
With a hard swallow, I yank my gaze away and stare at his chest instead.
“After we marry, Micha,” he says, his voice a deep purr, “I will not take you upstairs unless you ask me to. I will not touch you outside of the first dance. But I will be by your side the entire time, thinking about the feel of your pussy around my cock, how you’ll taste on my tongue when you ride my face until you come.”
I swallow hard, trying my damnedest to keep the blush off my cheeks.
“You’ll look at me, and I’ll get so fucking hard imagining what those lips can do. What orders they will give me as I’m begging you to let me fuck you.”
I can’t help it. As the image of him tied and bound for my pleasure fills my mind, I swallow hard. His eyes track the movement of my neck, and he makes a noise that causes me to shiver.
Lifting his gaze back to mine, he murmurs, “Will you place my cock inside a chastity cage and make me kneel between your legs, licking and finger fucking you until morning while never giving me the command to touch myself? Will you tie me to the bed with a witch’s snare and hover your pussy right over my face as you fuck yourself with a toy, torturing me with the teasing drops of your cum as I beg for you to let me taste you? Just one fucking lick.” He groans. “Just give me one lick, baby.”
My lips part as I press my back hard against the wall to try to increase the distance between us. My every nerve is aware of how close he is to me, how if I just rock my hips forward the slightest inch, I can feel the hard, pulsing length of his cock. If I tilt my head up, I can taste his lips. I tremble beneath the images he is feeding me, and my breaths come out on harsh, shallow pants.
“And when you finally allow me the pleasure of taking you up to our room, I still will not touch you. I will walk behind you so everyone knows that I am yours just as much as you are mine.”
I kegel on a deep-throated moan.
“But know that I will be watching your ass as I imagine burying my face in it. How I can press you against a wall, bunch up the skirt of your dress, and trail my tongue from my lips to your ass…”
His voice trails off, and I know he’s imagining it now. I can hear the strain in his voice, feel the pulse of his cock even though it’s not touching me. But it’s just right there, not even an inch away from my body.
“Gods, I love the taste of you,” he groans as he shudders. And seeing him this tense has my hips rocking forward so I can feel just the barest touch of his tip.
He groans again, and the muscles in front of me flex hard as he struggles to keep his hands off me. “Fuck, Micha,” he growls.
His breaths are hard and fast as he continues, “You will have all the toys at your disposal. And amongst them, there will be a knife.”
I suck in a breath as I lift my gaze to him. A mistake given how fast his eyes lock me in. “A knife?” I whisper, the words falling out before I can stop them.
“I love you, Micha, but if you think you can never forgive me, if you can never love me again like you said, then use the knife on me. Tie me down with the witch’s snare, and when my vampirism activates, then go ahead and cut out my heart because it’ll already be fucking destroyed. These last few days have been hel, but I have held on to the hope that I can fix this. That I can show you how sorry I am for hurting you, so if I can’t – if there is nothing I can ever do in all the years I will be married to you, then go ahead and stab me. But at least let me die knowing you have my last name.”
My breath catches as I stare at him, trapped in the heat of his gaze. His eyes dip to my lips and linger. My chest squeezes tight. He leans his head down ever so slightly, but if he tries to kiss me, I’m going to knee him in the fucking dick.
Because fuck him and his smooth words.
Fuck my body for being addicted to his touch after four months of constantly having it.
And fuck the blood bond the most. Fuck the mixing of our souls where his desires now feed into mine. Where his arousal and need fill me up and make it hard for me to resist him. I’m like a cat in heat where he controls the fucking dial. But though his emotions might be influencing mine, I am a fucking Black. I am stronger than my desires.
So I lift my chin, giving him that tiny bit of hope that I will give in to him.
Then I say, “Fuck you.”
His head jerks back. Pain flares in his eyes. He stares at me for a moment longer, and then he’s gone.
Fucking.
Asshole.