I’m light-headed when he yanks my hair harder and breathes into my ear.
“I want to be your equal and not thought of as a weak woman stuck at home in a fucking gilded cage.”
He stills for a rapid heartbeat, releases my hair, and hooks his hands under my armpits to haul me up to stand. Except he has other ideas as he urges me backward, his hard dick prodding my pelvis, his inked chest bumping into mine, and his starless eyes drilling into me. The backs of my legs hit the mattress and I topple onto bound arms. He arches over the top of me, his muscular form eclipsing the ceiling lights. I search the depths of his eyes for a wisp of friendliness, but all I see is dark, twisted desire and my own lust reflecting back at me.
André stays in place for a bit, his lips pouting as he considers his next move or what order he deems fitting for his prisoner. The rhythm of his heart catches up with mine, our breathing syncs, and the silence crackles.
“I am the ruler of your fine body whenever we’re together—like this. But outside of that…” His powerful physique goes rigid. His eyes burn hotter and his skin catches fire where it meets mine. “I’ll give you whatever you want, Wifey. A motorcycle of your own. A new home. A hotel to run… to create… to build. A family. Together, we’ll create the life you’ve always dreamed of, because you’re the only woman I want to own… the wife I’ve chosen and the mistress who tortures me without even knowing it. You belong to me, and I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure you never have a reason to doubt it.”
The instant he finishes, he spreads my legs wide, grabs his dick at the base, and maneuvers it to my opening. There’s no pause for permission or gentle kisses as a prelude; he rams deep inside and awakens all sorts of sparked emotions within my core.
The strangled sound scraping free of my throat couples with the raw hiss exploding from his. His hands are on my breasts as he drives in harder, his fingertips digging into my flesh as if he’s punishing me for something. For crushing the surface of his authority so fragments of light pour into the fine cracks where our twisted darkness reigns.
We stare at each other, a silent passing of remembrance. Beneath his brutal movements, there’s a gentleness hiding in the wilderness of his untamed mind, a man who secretly seeks refuge in the woman he’s furiously fucking.
I’m desperate to touch him, mark his broad shoulders with my nails, sink my fingers into his thick hair, but I’m bound in rope, both literally and figuratively. Twisted scarlet strands tie me up on the outside, and on the inside, the valves of my heart are knotted and tangled.
The manifestation of desire he generates within me could never be replicated. I crave him with so much hunger that I’d let him fuck me in whatever way he chooses. And he does. Again and again, he thrusts his thick dick in a savage rhythm and briefly withdraws as if he can’t stand the sensation of our separation.
He fucks me.
Owns me.
Slaps my flesh.
Bites my nipples.
And just when I think I’m about to detonate, he pulls out, flips me over onto my stomach, hoists my hips into the air, and parts my buttocks. I gasp at the quick, silent demands of his hunger. My spine bows toward the mattress when he spits on the puckered hole that has never been touched before.
“Are you ready to be stretched, Wifey?” I don’t recognize his voice, the rasp to his accent so thick with lust it borders on unholy.
I angle my head to catch sight of him. “I’ve never…”
His gaze latches onto mine, dark and triumphant. “Even better…” he says in a sexy rumble. “None of those motherfuckers in your past were man enough to experience all of my beautiful wife. They were scared of your power… whereas I feed off it… off you. Take it like a good girl.”
He spits again and runs a finger over the uncorrupted entrance, welcoming a wicked shiver of the forbidden through the tense muscles. The next thing I know, he’s breaching the tight muscles using a single digit and his dick drives so far inside my pussy that it nudges my cervix.
“This tight little ass ismine. Your hungry little cunt ismine. Your whole fucking existence belongs to me, Mrs. Souza.” His ownership of using my full title isn't missed.
I’ve never been so consumed and coveted—utterly worshiped and divinely violated. My inner walls pulse around the intense intrusion; his steely dick shows no mercy as it conquers, whereas his thumb stays still, unmoving in its place.
There’s no reprieve from the force he uses. A harsh spanking smack echoes in the electrified air, his opposite hand connecting with my ass cheek. My flesh absorbs the thrilling punishment and each one following the first, ejecting a tattered scream from my hoarse throat.
Where his hand strikes, the torrid burn has surely left a mark, his primal punishment a trigger for the dark and sadistic fantasies I never knew I craved. He seizes my hair and drags my head back like he’s riding bareback and I’m the creature he’s dominating.
I quake as his hips slam into me, his dick burying itself deeper with every maddening thrust he subjects me to. With my flushed cheek chafing on cotton rich bed sheets and my torso restricted by ropes, brutalized by my husband's fingers, hands, and dick, I lose more of my innocence to the monster who forced me into his chaotic kingdom. I find peace in this new bond we’ve constructed from memories, attraction, and trust.
In a beat, all contact is stolen from me. Chills shower me in tingles. I glance over my shoulder, where he runs a ringed hand through his tousled hair before pouncing on me again. Only this time, he heaves me off the mattress by fixed knots and manhandles me in front of a full-length mirror.
Standing tall behind me, his heart thrumming against my spine, he slides a possessive hand around my belly and his mouth drops to my neck, where he licks the curve of it. “Look at yourself, Sinéad. This is the woman you are to me. Fully charged like high octane.” His lips brush against the shell of my ear. “My ravishing wife.” A sultry nip of my lobe liquifies my muscles.
I dig my feet into the carpet for purchase, staring at his unruly reflection. His tattooed, corded throat, unshorn facial hair, and fiendish carbon eyes—sexually intoxicating. It’s a rush just being next to him. A starlike pattern of red weaves across my upper half and traps my engorged breasts for his perversion. My hair is an unkempt nest of lust and roughness, but my eyes, they flourish under the weight of my realization.
He caresses my stomach as we both stare at the arousing vision of us entwined. “You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. I crave the thrill ofyou. Promise me you’ll always trust me.”
“I promise.”
My heart races, ready for the freefall. This is who I am now.
