Which is why I married Sinéad and why I agreed to get her pregnant when the time was right forme—for us.
It was my choice. Little did I know it's not simply about owning a wife; it’s about deserving her. Being enough for her. And just when I thought I’d found the perfect wind to train my tornado, she moved direction and left me feeling cheated.
Soft hands smooth their way up my thighs, the gentleness luring my thoughts back to the room. My pulse thrums and my heart thuds against the steely bone structure of my ribs. Her awareness strikes a flash of possessiveness through me.
I sink my fingers into her hair and roughly lock her green-blue gaze with mine. My muscles tense as I brawl with my self-control. It would be so easy to ram my dick in her mouth and fuck her throat until tears mingle with cum. To fuck her rough with the sunlight on her skin. But I refuse to get hooked on her. Not today.
“This occasion isn’t for tenderness.” I grab her hand and press it to my dick. “Grip it hard.”
Our gazes tangle. She licks her lips and takes hold of my dick, wrapping her fingers around it firmly.
“Harder,” I bite out.
She studies me silently and then tightens her fingers before moving a choking fist up and down. Inhaling in a rumbled groan, I rub a hand over my heart where it hammers in situ. The erratic palpitations are due to a combination of drugs, liquor, and hard-core adrenaline.
Goosebumps hurl their prickly formation all over me.
“Harder,” I snarl. The compulsion to feel something other than pleasure takes over.
Her juicy tits brush against the pricked hairs on my thighs as she tugs and yanks. My balls are on fire, growing insanely hot. I thrust into her tight palm faster. She doesn’t back off, matching my furious pace with her own wildness.
She has an intolerable power over me.
My raging heartbeat bucks wildly while my balls draw up. A crest of blazing heat rushes through me when she lets out a moan, throttling my dick with a degree of sexual anger. My core clenches and my drunken veins run hotter than the fires of Hell.
This woman has changed me, and I’m not convinced it’s for the better, because I’m dangerously aroused by every little thing she does. I’m not certain it’s wise to crave a woman who was forced to marry me, especially when my body reacts to her like it’s the one thing I’ve been missing.
I didn’t expect to feel for her as much as I do or endure the unbearable chains of possessiveness for one woman. The chemistry sparking between us is off the charts.
It heightens the fact she belongs to me. No matter what Sapori thinks, or what her motives are for messing with my head.
Fuck!
She uses her nails to scratch from root to crown, her punishing strokes growing faster, sharper, fiercer. The rush catches up with me at the exact moment I find her wedding finger bare. The woman still refuses to wear the diamond encrusted band that depicts her role in my life. Her defiance strikes me hard.
Despite a snarling temper, my muscles stiffen and cum erupts everywhere. Threads of creaminess decorate her fist and my twitching abdomen. But when she leans over the top of it and licks the oozing slit, the blackest storm builds.
I didn’t give her permission to feast on my cum. On my last ragged exhale, she peeks up at me under ebony lashes, those turquoise eyes of hers assessing how I’ve easily become undone. The evidence of what she does to me sits in a pearl at the corner of her lips, thoughtlessly swept away by the tip of her tongue.
I’m lost in a few manic moments. The high from cocaine is nothing compared to the soaring sensation from my wife’s touch. Alcohol fails to desensitize the dark lust whispering through my soul. This is love and war. And she’s moving into position to slay me.
I wish I had known better than to open my heart to her.
The rush of her scalding touch confuses me. She’s both a dangerous distraction and an untrustworthy Sapori.
I shove her away and push out of the couch, too messed up to think clearly. My heart pounds and my lungs heave for air as if I’m drowning in open water, aware of a shark moving in for the kill.
“André?” she pants, her sexy accent tangling with my paranoia.
I fist my hair and pace, my dick dripping a final spurt of cum. Yet it’s still firm beyond acceptable.
“Don’t speak!” I growl, unable to pin down rationality.
Sinéad freezes at the sight of my fraying mental stability. Frustration and head fuckery have me stalking to my desk and reaching for the lethal hard steel of my favorite revolver, not sure what the fuck I’m doing.
She shrinks backward, her feet slipping and sliding as her disarming eyes pop wide. “André? What are you—”
In the fallout of a deliciously tortured release, my chemically warped brain malfunctions. Unbalanced emotions war within me—mistrust, deception, love. Sweat trickles the length of my spine.
