Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Liana
“Your duties, huh?” he asks. “Is this what you want our marriage to be? You want me to use you when it’s convenient?”
I clench my fists and force myself to look at him without responding. I’ve read every romance book ever smuggled into that goddamn estate. I’ve watched every trope, every power struggle, every slow-burn explosion of love and hate and possession. I know exactly what he expects from me.
He pulls his cock out, already hard, veins standing out along the shaft, tip wet with anticipation. For a second I’m in complete shock and I know I shouldn’t be but I can’t help it. He grips my hair so hard I’m afraid it might pull right from my scalp.
“Have you done this before, Datura? Has your mouth ever been on another man?”
I shake my head no and feel his grip on me tighten, causing me to wince.
“Words,” he growls out while stroking himself. “Say it.”
“No,” I whisper. “Never. Wa…”
I try to finish speaking but he doesn’t give me a chance.
I want to tell him to wait, just a minute.
Give me a second to get my bearings and prepare.
Instead he shoves the head of his cock into my mouth, pushing inside until it hits the back of my throat.
Embarrassingly, I gag like an amateur. I grab his legs and my fingers dig into his thighs, hard enough to leave marks, but he doesn’t stop.
He pulls himself out before ramming back inside.
All I can do is sit and take it as I choke on the length of him.
“This is a wifely duty, Datura,” he grits out as he holds my head in place.
“If that’s all you want, I can make it happen.
You want to be the good little wife who sucks my cock on command?
Show me how good you are, because if that’s what this is, I can get it anywhere.
I can have any woman on her knees for me, so show me what’s so special about this mouth of yours. ”
I see red. How dare he bring up other women while his dick impales my mouth over and over again.
How dare he compare me to the random women he has fucked around with, knowing I was sent to him against my will.
I may be young and I may have even been a virgin before he played with my heart and body but I’m not as innocent as he thinks I am.
I’ve envisioned, devoured…memorized every sexual scene I’ve ever read and for the first time in my life, I’m going to deliver it so hard he’ll never know what hit him.
I open my mouth and take him in. All the way.
No warm-up or slow tease. This time there’s zero hesitation as I flatten my tongue and push until I feel the head press against the back of my throat.
Rio’s entire body goes rigid and a small sense of satisfaction rushes through my body. I’ve caught him off guard. Feeling bolder, I hollow my cheeks and pull back with a sharp, obscene slurp. I hear him suck in a breath, the second sign that he’s not as composed as he wants me to think.
“Fuck,” he mutters, gripping my hair harder and sending heat pulsing through my body and straight to my core.
I don’t break eye contact. Not once. I remember what the books said about the power a woman can have even on her knees.
I set a punishing rhythm, gripping his cock and twisting my wrist at the base just the way they described.
I hear him curse in Spanish under his breath, a feral sound that makes me want to smile smugly.
He tries to regain control by grabbing my head harder, yanking me closer with rough hands, but I just swallow him down.
There’s no way he expected this, not from the little innocent girl he thought I was.
He’s close already. I can feel the way his cock twitches in my mouth and hardens even further.
I can barely breathe as I watch the way his muscles lock up and his whole body tenses, so I take him as deep as I can until my nose is pressed against his skin.
He loses it. He comes with a raw, guttural sound, his hands tangled in my hair like he might tear it out by the roots.
I hold him there, swallowing everything, not letting even a drop escape and keeping my eyes glued to his.
When it’s done, I pull back slow, letting him watch as I release the length of him from my mouth.
For a second, the only sound in the room is his harsh breathing as he stares down at me. I stand slowly, wipe the corner of my mouth, and keep my eyes trained on his.
“Husband,” I say, voice flat.
Then I turn and walk away leaving him standing there alone.
I’m not sure if there’s a score being kept, but if so, I’ve definitely won that round.
I lock the door behind me with trembling fingers, then brace both palms against the marble counter and lean in until my forehead nearly touches the mirror.
My knees are shaking, my mouth is raw, and my throat aches.
When I finally force myself to look up, my eyes are something else entirely.
I look like a wild woman. I barely recognize my reflection as I stare myself down, refusing to look away.
“Jesus, Liana. What the hell are you doing?” I whisper, but there’s no answer.
I run the water and rinse my mouth, swishing the cold water back and forth.
I continue spitting until the taste of him is gone.
The memory of his hands in my hair, his cock in my mouth, and his hips jerking as he lost control is still there though.
It was brutal. It was humiliating. And God help me, it was the most powerful I’ve ever felt in my life.
I loved every second of it. Still, I want to hate him.
I want to hate what he did to me. I want to hate him for playing with my head and my heart.
I want to hate what just happened, but the ache between my legs says otherwise.
The way my skin burns for more…I fucking hate it.
I hate that he can do this to me, that he can make me hate and love him all at once.
I swipe at my smudged makeup, attempting to fix my mascara but I’m not sure it helps.
“You can do this. You can survive this…you can survive him. You’re a Manitellie. You are not going to lose to a bastard cartel prince, no matter how good looking he is.”
Adjusting the straps of my lingerie, I run my hands down the sides to smooth it, and square my shoulders. This is just the beginning and I’m keeping score now. I’ll outlast him and I’ll win. Even if I have to use every trick I ever learned from a book, then so be it.
When I finally walk out, the bedroom is empty.
I glance around before I hear his voice through the suite’s patio door.
It sounds muffled but angry, a mixture of Spanish and English that I can’t understand.
I stand frozen just inside the bedroom, listening as he finishes the call with a curt, “Text when it’s done.
” It’s then that it hits me that the call has actually ended.
I don’t want to be here when he comes back.
I don’t want to talk about what just happened because I’m not really even sure myself.
I quickly crawl into bed, slip beneath the sheets, and curl up as close as I can on the far edge of the mattress.
I hear the door open, then close, and the sound of him crossing the carpet.
I close my eyes and force my breathing into slow, even patterns, hoping he’ll believe I’m already asleep.
‘Please don’t touch me again tonight. I don’t think I’m strong enough to pretend to hate you right now.’
He stands there a long time. I swear I can feel his eyes burning into me from behind.
He lets out a slow sigh, then moves to the bathroom and I listen as the sound of the shower comes on.
I’m not sure how long he’s in there for but I know it’s a while.
The worst part is I can’t even fall asleep as I lay there listening to the running water.
When he finally comes out, he climbs in beside me, and I find myself tensing under the covers.
Disappointment hits me when he doesn’t try to touch me and confusion quickly follows that thought.
Eventually, sleep pulls me down as I get lost in the sound of his steady breathing.