Chapter 3 #2
Biting my lip, I shake my head, refusing to give him the satisfaction. But my hips betray me, arching, seeking his touch.
He chuckles, the dark, victorious sound resonating deep in his chest. “So stubborn, my wife.”
More insistently now, he resumes playing with me, pushing me higher, closer to the edge. He touches his thumb to the sensitive bud at the apex of my thighs, circling, pressing, sending jolts of electricity through me.
My breath is in small, sharp gasps, and my body coils like a spring ready to snap. I can feel it building, a pressure, a need, a desperation. He has me on a precipice, teetering, and I’m terrified of the fall .
“Let go, Isla,” Dorian commands, his voice a rough growl.
And with a final, expert stroke, he sends me tumbling as an orgasm crashes through me.
Then his hand stills, resting possessively between my thighs as I ride out the waves of my first-ever orgasm.
My breath comes in ragged gasps, and I can feel the flush spreading across my cheeks, down my neck, across my chest. I’m shaking, my body trembling from the intensity of the release he’s forced from me.
“Such a perfectly obedient little girl.” A terrible, smug smile plays on his lips.
I shake my head vehemently, even as my body clings to his, seeking an anchor in the storm he’s unleashed. “No… I’m not…”
He releases my wrists, and for a moment, I’m frozen, unsure of what to do with my freedom.
Then, to my utter horror, I reach for him, clutching the lapels of his tuxedo, holding on to him as if he’s my lifeline. I hate myself for it, hate the way my body seeks comfort from the man who just ravished me.
A sound on the far side of the room makes me stiffen. I turn my head sharply, my eyes widening in horror as a member of the catering staff pushes a cart into the room through a door hidden behind a panel. Of course, there’d be back of the house access into the space.
The young woman presses her hand to her mouth as she takes in the scene before her—my disheveled state, Dorian’s possessive hold on me.
Dorian doesn’t even blink. With a calmness at odds with the scene that has just passed between us, he shifts his body, shielding me from view. “Out,” he barks, his voice chilled and authoritative.
The woman scurries away, the door clicking shut behind her .
Once we’re alone again, Dorian turns back to me, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Maybe I’ll expose you like that more often in the future.”
“You wouldn’t!” My eyes are on him, searching his face, hoping he’s not serious.
Without responding, he adjusts my panties back into place. Intentionally he brushes against my sensitive flesh, making me squirm once more.
How I despise the way he makes me feel so utterly out of control, a reminder that I now belong to him.
When he finally steps back, giving me some much-needed room, I smooth the front of my gown with my trembling fingers. Then I try to do something with the updo he’s destroyed.
“Leave it.” He says the words as if he’s proud of what he’s done. Then he reaches up, tucking the veil back into place, the delicate, lacy fabric flowing down my back.
“There will be no hiding from me ever again, Isla.” His eyes flash with intensity. “All your secrets belong to me now. And who knows? Maybe I’ll keep you naked, always ready for my touch.”
I glare at him, anger and humiliation battling inside me.
“We need to get back to our guests.” He brushes a piece of lint from his lapel. “And I need to have a few words with your father.”
Before I can flee toward the door, Dorian takes my left hand in his. Even though I try to yank away, he traces the wedding ring now circling my finger. A possessive gesture. A warning.
“This—and everything we just did—means you belong to me.” His thumb presses against the cool metal, his voice softer now but no less dangerous. “Any questions?”
I have a thousand, but he doesn’t wait for an answer.
Instead, he takes my arm and casually leads me out of the room as if we are merely a couple who can’t get enough of each other.
The last twenty minutes have changed my life forever, and now I’m bound to a man who will stop at nothing to possess me, body and soul.
Heaven help me. As much as I hate to admit it, a part of me is drawn to him, to the frightening promise in his eyes, to the way he makes me feel alive in a way I never have before. And that, more than anything, terrifies me.
Dorian unlocks the door and opens it.
Brennan turns to face us. He rakes his gaze down my body but keeps his expression neutral as he steps aside.
Without saying a word, he leads the way back down the hallway.
Before we arrive, we’re ambushed by the photographer, Marcella, snapping dozens of frames of us.
That had to be who Brennan had been talking to a few minutes ago. Planning this whole thing?
I look at Dorian.
Next to Brennan, Marcella is walking backward, her finger constantly on the shutter.
“Smile.” Dorian’s whispered word is cold against my ear. “These pictures will be on the internet within ten minutes. If you want to get away with this farce, we have to be able to show we were desperately in love.”
In love?
That’s the last thing I will ever be with him.
In this moment, realizing he’d staged that whole thing for the sake of some scandalous pictures, I hate him.
As she had earlier, Marcella reviews the screen before nodding. Then she sprints off, ahead of us.
“Was that really necessary?”
“To protect you? Yes.”
The moment the sound of voices reaches us, Dorian takes my hand again, and he holds it ridiculously tight, as if determined not to let me escape.
“It’s time I showed the world my bride. And you’d better damn well behave, Mrs. Vale.” His eyes glint with threat. “Or I promise you; you will not like the consequences. Understand?”