Page 127 of My Dark Divine
But she motivates me. She inspires me to try harder and be better. We’ve been through so much together, and I never thought I’d find such joy in seeing her in a wedding dress. The white silk enhances her allure without changing who she is—she’s still the Venetia I know: a wild little serpent with a tattoo on her hand, sharp nails, and that daring glint in her eyes.
She’s not a fragile angel. She’s my Lilith, a force to be reckoned with. We’re equals, forged in the fires of our own making.
My gaze flicks to her hair, and a wide, idiotic grin spreads across my face as I remember the hairpin she once used to stab me. Every time I see it, I feel a swarm of ants dancing beneath my skin, igniting a warmth that spreads like an electric current through my veins.
She knows I remember that this is the same hairpin. And she definitely knows it turns me on—the memory of what she did to me with it—right here, right now, while we’re still surrounded by all these idiots. I’ve managed to keep my composure for a long fucking time. It’s been hours since we went through the traditional wedding nonsense and listened to everyone’s meaningless chatter.
I’m tired of watching her give attention to everyone else. She’s spent too long trying to annoy her dad, chatting with her best friend, talking to my grandma, and mingling with random guests she doesn’t even know. That’s more than enough.
I want her all to myself, and I refuse to wait any longer.
We can sneak away. The ceremony was held outside, but this wedding is an extravagant event, and our parents have gone all out to make it as fancy as possible. Aside from the guest house and the expansive outdoor veranda, we have the entire mansion to ourselves for the next twenty-four hours. Inside, there’s a little surprise waiting for her—the one she’s unaware of.
The distance between us shrinks as my hand finds her waist, pulling her closer. “We need to get out of here,” I whisper, burying my nose in her hair and breathing in the scent of cherries. “I missed you.”
Her laughter fills the air, echoing in my chest. “We’ve been together this entire time, silly.”
I angle my face toward hers, noticing the mischievous sparkle in her gaze, and my cock twitches in my pants, urging me to persuade her faster. “You know what I mean,” I say, slightly tightening my grip on her waist. “Come on, baby girl. I can’t fucking wait any longer.”
The sparkle in her eyes intensifies, and I take a deep breath, realizing this little serpent is about to throw me a challenge. “Do you really think I’ll do it just because you said so?” she teases,stepping away. I let my hand slide from her waist, offering her the illusion of freedom. “Try to catch me first.”
She whirls around in a sudden burst of movement, drawing all eyes to her. The silk dress billows behind her as she sprints away, making a dramatic escape from the suffocating boredom of the space. Their chatter fades, replaced by the stunned silence of their gaping stares.
The bride has dashed from the wedding she’d been eagerly awaiting. I can already imagine the gossip spreading through the media like an out-of-control blaze.
With a bite of my lower lip, I follow her, keeping my steps deliberate. She may be fast, but I’ll close the distance easily with my longer strides.
I block out the questions tumbling from her dad’s mouth, his attempts to keep up with me failing. Inside, amusement, arousal, and raw, primal desire blend into something explosive—a force I’m eager to release on her.
In no time, we leave everyone behind, the air filled only with her soft giggles and breathless gasps as she realizes I’m catching up to her. The thrill of chasing her is unlike anything else, knowing I’ll catch her and claim her as mine—because she’s officially my fuckingwife.
I reach her effortlessly, my hand firm on her waist as I lift her off the ground. She screams, but I ignore it, leaning in close to her ear. “Got you, baby girl,” I whisper, relishing the goosebumps that rise on her skin at the sound of my voice. “Now, let me remind you what it means to bemine.”
I carry her into the mansion with ease, and she tries to squirm free, smacking my arm and laughing. Her smile is so dazzling that I swear a plant of wilted flowers nearby just began to bloom again. It’s fucking surreal to realize I’m the one responsible for making her so happy.
I slam my hand against the front door, flinging it open with a satisfying groan. The air is thick with the scent of roses, a crimson pathway leading to the flickering flames of candles, casting an ethereal glow across the meticulously clean, luxurious, and spacious interior.
An impeccable stage for the perfect start.
I didn’t choose the mansion, but I was the one who filled it with all the romantic shit. I had no clue how to do it properly, but I put in some thought and effort, hoping she’d appreciate the little touches.
Right now, though, I doubt she’s thinking about any of that.
She won’t stop laughing and wriggling in my grip, and while I enjoy the sound of her joy, right now, I crave the screams of pleasure more. I shove her against the wall, my body crashing into hers, letting her feel every inch of my mania. Her laughter dies on her lips, replaced by a soft, quiet moan as she braces herself against the wall, palms flat against the surface.
My hands claim her, exploring every inch of her, squeezing, groping, as if discovering her for the first time. She gasps as my hand cups her breast, my other hand framing her face, fingers pressing into her cheeks, savoring the tremors that ripple through her body. Holding her firmly, I tilt her face closer, my lips crashing against hers. I can feel every muscle in her neck tighten as she struggles to stay steady in this uncomfortable position, but I can’t focus on what’s best for her right now.
I just want to give everything to her and watch as she takes it from me.
She can barely keep up with my pace as I ravage her mouth, bruising her tender skin. I sink my teeth in, nipping at her bottom lip before moving to the top, squeezing, biting, and savoring until I taste the copper warmth of blood. My tongue traces her lips, leaving a smoldering trail of desire.
I pull back, my hand tracing the curve of her body in a slow, deliberate descent to her hip, while my other hand moves to her neck. “Look at you,” I whisper, my voice a breathy caress as I deliver a rough slap to her ass, sending a thrill through her body.
She writhes in a desperate attempt to break free, and I trace the spot where I slapped her, slowly massaging the sting. “You love trying to run away from me, don’t you?” I growl, slapping her ass again. Her cry is fucking music to my ears, and I press myself closer, relishing the heat of her body and the way she trembles beneath me. “You love it just as much as you love what I do to youafteryou fail. My dirty fucking girl.”
I pull back before spinning her around and slamming her against the wall, my hands claiming her wrists above her head. Her eyes are half-closed, her lips parted, bruised, and bloodied. She looks up at me, a silent plea in her gaze—a plea I’m eager to answer, to deepen the connection.
“So perfect,” I taunt, letting my eyes rake over her disheveled appearance. The messy hair, flushed face, and wrinkled dress—it’s hard to believe she was pristine just moments ago. She looks up, her lips searching for mine, and I let out a low chuckle that brushes against her mouth before pulling back. “And so fucking needy. I’ve gotten too soft with you, baby girl. Don’t you think it’s time I remind you of what you signed up for?”
