Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rio
The second the suite door clicks shut, I lock it out of habit.
Even here, a five-star fortress, paid triple for discretion, I don’t trust that we’re truly alone.
I pivot, still holding my breath, because I half-expect Liana to bolt the moment she gets a chance.
But she doesn’t run. She just stands there, shoulders squared and head high, glaring at me from across the room like she’s been waiting her whole life for this exact confrontation.
She’s stunning, even with the angry scowl on her face.
She’s still in the wedding dress, and my cock stirs at the thought of what she might be wearing underneath it.
It won’t be the lacy white lingerie she wore the night I took her innocence.
I stole that piece and the next morning, locked it in my safe forever.
My eyes slide lower as my hungry gaze takes her in.
She looks nothing like the girl I picked up on her first day from Italy.
She’s more woman now than ever and not just because I stole her innocence.
No, there’s something else under the surface I can’t describe.
There’s a hard line to her jaw I haven’t seen before and a set to her lips that says she might kill me with her bare hands if given the chance.
Good. No wife of mine can be weak. She wouldn’t survive if she were.
I drop the keycard on a side table and toss my jacket at a chair, then I force a smile onto my face.
It’s smooth and easy, the kind I’ve used to disarm a thousand rivals and right now, that's what this feels like. A face-off. I did after-all pretend to be someone else for months so I can’t really blame her, can I?
“Well,” I say, “I guess there’s no need to ‘consummate’ the marriage tonight, since technically, we already did that. Kind of takes the pressure off, don’t you think?”
I smile wide, trying to make light of the situation but she doesn’t take the bait. Instead she narrows her eyes, her body still as a loaded gun.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not interested in a repeat performance.” Her voice is cool, flat, devoid of the usual quiver I used to get out of her.
She sounds like a woman now. A woman who’s lost the ability to give a single fuck. My dick is hard as fucking steel in my pants. I step closer, giving her a long, slow look up and down.
“You sure about that?” I ask, and I mean it as a threat and a dare all at once. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re shaking. Probably remembering the mind-blowing orgasms you had the last time I touched that sweet pussy.”
She squares up, stepping toward me until there’s barely a breath of air between us but she doesn’t fool me. I can see the way she’s squirming under her skin. I can smell the sweet bite of champagne on her lips.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she grits out. “I would rather swim with the sharks.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. It’s a real laugh too, not the fake kind I usually have when I’m in the public eye. I step forward, grinning big as I say my next words.
“That’s not what you said last time, Datura. Or have you forgotten how you begged for it?”
She slaps me. Hard. The sound is sharp and for a moment I just stare at her wide eyes, stunned. My cheek stings, but it barely registers compared to the rush of blood in my ears. I grab her wrist before she can pull away, and in one fluid move, I spin her and slam her back against the wall.
“Is this what you want?” I hiss, caging her with my arms. “You want to fight, or you want to fuck?”
I think she’s just as stunned as me when I press myself against her, letting her feel how hard I am.
She glares at me, pure venom.
“I want to never see your face again. I want to go back to Italy.”
I grin, sliding my palm up her bare thigh, slow and deliberate. Her muscles tense under my touch, but she doesn’t kick or squirm. That makes me harder than I want to admit because I know deep down, she wants me.
“Liar,” I whisper, hiking her dress higher. “You can hate me all you want, but your body doesn’t lie.”
I press my hand between her legs. She’s wet. Not just a little wet either. She’s fucking soaked. My thumb finds the spot that makes her gasp, and I push until she’s biting her lip so hard I think she might draw blood.
“See?” I say, my voice dropping to a whisper. “I could fuck you up against this wall right now and you’d let me.”
She glares at me before struggling to push me away but I hook her thigh over my hip, pinning her with my weight, and start working her with two fingers while my mouth bites at her neck.
She continues to try to twist away, but I hold her in place, forcing her to take every thrust. I watch as her chest heaves, eyes locked on the ceiling instead of me and I hate that, but I don’t stop.
Not until she starts to shake, her whole body rippling under my hands.
She comes hard, a muffled cry escaping before she clamps her teeth on her lip to kill the sound.
The second it’s over, I’m already pulling her dress down and unzipping it.
My cock is hard and throbbing in my pants and I can’t wait to sink into her sweet pussy.
It takes me a minute to realize she’s still not willingly participating.
Her body is still rigid while I kiss her neck as her dress drops to the floor.
I pull back, staring at her in confusion.
Her eyes are glazed, but the hatred is still there.
“Satisfied?” she sneers.
‘Not even close.’
My hand is still wet from her and my dick painfully hard as I back up and turn away.
“Fuck,” I mutter, pacing to the minibar. I need a drink…or maybe five. “This is what I get for marrying a spoiled little brat.”
She doesn’t answer me as I pour a shot of tequila and down it.
I’m not usually one to drink a lot but right now, I need something to take the edge off.
I’m not used to having to work this hard for a woman.
Normally they come to me willingly and without a fuss.
Not only was I forced into an arranged marriage, but it happend to be with someone stubborn as fuck.
When I finally look back, she’s on her knees. Just there, kneeling in the center of the suite, head bowed and hair falling over her face. She looks gorgeous in her lacy lingerie set. Gorgeous and possibly deadly. I don’t know if she’s praying or plotting murder.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, grabbing a slice of lime and biting into it aggressively.
She looks up, eyes dead and flat.
“My wifely duties,” she says, her voice completely devoid of emotion. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? For me to act like a proper wife?”
The small shot glass cracks in my grip, and I have to set it down before it shatters. I stalk toward her, unbuckling my belt as I go.
“Your duties, huh?” I say, voice low and shaking with anger. Is she fucking serious? I wouldn’t have put this much effort into any other woman. I wouldn’t have had to. “Is this what you want our marriage to be? You want me to just use you when it’s convenient?”
She doesn’t answer, which pisses me off more, but there’s a flicker of something in her gaze now. A flash of anger, or maybe, just maybe, a hint of challenge. And I want that. I don’t want some pliable wife. I want the fight.
I grab a fistful of her hair and drag her closer, forcing her to look up at me as I unzip my pants and pull my hard cock out.
“Have you done this before, Datura? Has your mouth ever been on another man?” She shakes her head slowly, eyes huge. “Words,” I growl, my cock already in my hand as I stroke it. “Say it.”
“No,” she whispers. “Never.”
She goes to say something else but I don’t even give her time to finish.
Instead, I shove the head of my cock past her lips, pushing inside until she gags.
Her fingers dig into my thighs, nails leaving little red crescents as I pull out and ram back in, deeper this time.
She chokes, but doesn’t pull away. Good girl.
If this is what she wants, I’ll give it to her.
“This is a wifely duty, Datura,” I say, holding her head in place as I use her mouth like she’s my own personal fucktoy. My pants and briefs around my ankles and my shirt still on as I push and pull myself in and out of her mouth.
“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.”
Her eyes flick up to mine and I see that familiar spark of anger again.
Good. I rather her be angry than a statue.
She starts to move her mouth then, hollowing her cheeks and dragging her tongue along the length of me.
She’s a fast learner, I’ll give her that.
I can already feel my balls tightening. She’s beautiful like this, her hair wild and eyes shining with defiance.
I watch her, fighting the urge to tell her to stop so I can take her to bed and do this right.
But I don’t. I can’t. I force myself to stay cold and detached, just as she wants.
Unfortunately, she has other plans and before I know what’s happening, she’s taken over control causing me to groan out loud.
I’m so blissed out on the way she watches me as she sucks me down while jerking me with her hand that I barely hear the jumbled mess of words coming out of my mouth.
She continues her onslaught until my balls draw up and my hips jerk forward.
I don’t ask if she’ll swallow or spit…I don’t have time.
Instead I slam into her one last time, spilling down her throat.
Then I pull back and watch as she swallows every drop, staring me down the whole time.
When it’s over, I let go and step back, breathing hard. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then stands slowly, leaving the dress on the floor at her feet. Her lips are red and swollen, and her chin is glossy with spit. She holds my gaze for a long, silent moment before finally speaking.
“Husband,” she says coldly, then turns away and disappears into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
I stand there for a minute, shaking with some feeling I can’t name.
Maybe it’s rage…or shame? Maybe it’s just that I’ve never lost control like that in my life, not even in the ring, not even with a gun to my head.
I pour another shot of tequila and drain it in one quick swallow.
It burns all the way down, but it’s nothing compared to the ache spreading through my chest.
This is going to be a long fucking marriage.