Cole
She’s mine.
It’s been hammering in my skull since the judge said the words, but standing here in her little apartment, cats peering up at me in silent judgement, it echoes louder than ever. Sabrina Blackwell is my wife. No. Sabrina Opolski.
I crowd her back against the wall, pinning her with my stare and then my oversized frame.
“All I see is my bride. My pretty little witch. The woman who promised me forever.”
Her breath hitches, lips parting.
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is.” I bend, mouth brushing hers. Soft, at first. Testing. Then deeper, hotter, until she’s clutching my shirt in both fists.
She tastes like cinnamon tea and trouble. Like the only thing I’ll ever want again. When I finally tear my mouth away, her cheeks are flushed, eyes wide, lips swollen. She looks wrecked already, and I haven’t even begun.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” I rasp, dragging my thumb over her lower lip.
“Oh, I know.” Her smile is pure sin. “That’s half the fun.”
Brat. God, she’s a brat. And I want every inch of her.
“Careful,” I warn, voice dropping low. “Keep pushing, and you’ll find out exactly what kind of husband you married.”
She cocks her head, tilting her chin up in defiance.
“Daddy?”
The word nearly floors me. Heat punches through my gut so hard I brace a hand against the wall to stay upright.
“Say it again.”
Her tongue flicks over her lip, slow and wicked.
“Daddy.”
I groan, dragging her against me so she can feel just how hard I am.
“That’s right. My pretty girl. My wife. You want me to take care of you?”
She nods, blue eyes wide now, bravado melting into need as her pupils expand and her breath comes out in rapid little puffs.
“Yes.”
I kiss her again, hard enough to bruise, swallowing the sound she makes in her throat. The last thread of restraint I’ve held onto these past few days snaps like dried wood.
Tonight, I’m not holding back.
She trembles when I kiss her, but she doesn’t back down. She never does. She fists my shirt, pulling me closer, daring me to swallow her whole.
I slide my hands down her sides, over the curve of her waist, gripping her hips. My wife. All mine.
The cats scatter when I lift her, but I don’t care. I tip her back onto the couch, my body pressing hers into the plush cushions. She laughs against my mouth, wicked and breathless.
“You’re a menace,” she whispers.
“No,” I growl, tugging the neckline of her dress aside so I can kiss her collarbone. “I’m your husband.”
Her nails rake over my shoulders.
“Same difference.”
The dress that wraps around her body like a lacy lover’s caress covers too much of her skin. I shove her skirt up, fabric bunching at her thighs. Black lace peeks out and I nearly lose my mind at the sight of the panties she teased me with yesterday.
“You wore these for me?”
Her grin is pure mischief.
“I wore it for myself.”
I grip her chin, forcing her eyes to mine.
“Not anymore. It’s all for me now.”
Her breath shudders.
“Greedy.”
“Daddy,” I correct.
She moans at the word, her head tipping back. Fuck, she’s gorgeous like this. I shouldn’t have made us wait this long. I could’ve made love to her every day this week. Spent all those nights licking her sweet pussy until she came on my tongue. Buried my cock inside her until the sun rose.
I drop to my knees between her thighs, spreading her wide. She gasps when I drag my tongue over the lace, soaking the thin fabric.
“Cole—”
“Say it right.”
My teeth abandon her center to scrape over her inner thigh. She trembles like I’ve bitten her. So fragile, my tough girl.
“Daddy,” she whimpers.
That’s it. That’s my girl.
I tear her panties aside, and taste her. She cries out, hips bucking, hands fisting in my hair. Sweet. Perfect. Mine.
I feast on her like a starving man, licking, sucking, groaning into her until she’s panting my name. Begging me to finish her.
“Please—” she gasps.
I pull back, lips wet, beard damp with her arousal.
“Please what, pretty girl?”
Her eyes are wild with desire, her hair is unraveling, and she’s halfway out of her dress. This is no gentle deflowering. This is a claiming.
“I need you. Please, Daddy.”
I stand, dragging her up with me. That pretty wedding dress crumples to the floor and my shirt and tie follow suit. She’s almost bare before me but it’s not enough. I want it all gone. No lace. No fabric. Nothing between us when I make her mine for the first time.
“Bed,” I growl. “Now.”
She hesitates before darting past me and into the bedroom. I’m a breath behind her, two of her cats nipping at my heels but I beat them to the door and then it’s just me and my girl.
“Let me see those perky tits.”
Bright red colors her pale cheeks but she obeys.
First one bra strap slips over her shoulder and then the other.
Her tits are small, but I fucking love them.
I don’t wait for her to undo the band. I stride forward, closing the distance between us, and cover them with my palms. Hard nipples press into my hands but the supple flesh beneath my fingers is soft.
When I squeeze them gently her head lolls back.
A wanton moan slips between her dusky lips, and I grapple for the last thread of my patience as I tease her nipples with my fingers and then my mouth.
Somewhere between her bra dropping to the floor and sucking her nipples into my mouth we found our way to the bed. My girl looks so fucking good stretched out with her hair wild, and her makeup smeared while I bring her pleasure.
“Show me how much you want me.”
My fingers find her hot and wet, her slick arousal coating them as I give her a tiny taste of what’s to come. She clamps down on one finger, her muscles squeezing it like a vice while she arches her back and comes with a low husky moan.
I don’t let her come down. My second finger enters her with care, her inner walls still fluttering, as she rides out her first orgasm.
“You can take another,” I say as I add a third finger.
“Cole—” Her voice cracks on my name, the rest of her words lost as I thrust into her. No matter. I know what she wants. What she needs.
I tease her higher, the rhythmic motion of my fingers pumping into her bring her to the edge once again.
But I don’t let her go over.
She complains when I remove my fingers, but stops once I settle between her thighs.
The head of my cock slides between her folds and I nearly black out.
Leaning over her, I peer into the soul of a woman who doesn’t need a potion or a spell to ensnare my love.
Her claim on me is greater than any kind of magic, tangible or spiritual.
I’ll love her until the day I die, and if there is an afterlife, I’ll love her until the end of time.
“You want your husband to fuck you?” I rasp against her ear.
“Yes,” she whispers. Then realizing her mistake she eagerly adds, “Yes, Daddy.”
I slam into her in one hard stroke. Too fast, too rushed for her first time.
But she doesn’t complain. Her pussy greedily clenches around me, and I grip her hips to keep from losing control as she milks my cock.
Fuck. It’s too much. It’s too good. The feel of her wrapped around me is better than anything else.
I could kick my own ass for denying us this connection for so long.
“Fuck, Sabrina—”
“Harder.” Her voice is broken, needy. “Don’t you dare hold back.”
I don’t. I pound into her, every thrust driving my claim deeper, until the whole apartment echoes with her cries. She’s wild, pushing back against me, nails clawing my back and then ripping the sheets as she begs for more.
And then she shatters. Her climax rips through her, squeezing me so tight I can’t hold back another second. I groan her name as I spill inside her, burying myself deep, locking her to me in the most primal way.
When it’s over, she slumps across the bed, hair tangled, makeup ruined, body shaking. I pull her against my chest, cuddling her close, pressing kisses along her damp temple.
“My wife,” I murmur.
Her laugh is hoarse, and utterly perfect.
“Yours.”
I kiss her again, slow, tender, and full of the love I struggle to put into words poured into the press of my mouth against hers.
No matter how many times I said I wasn’t enough, she chose me. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving she was right.