Why did mother always tell me sex was a painful sacrifice, a necessary wifely duty? I don’t understand.
Reaching out, I find Cian’s shoulders and pull him towards me in a desperate need to have him closer. His warmth encompasses me as he hovers over my body. I spread my legs, allowing him better access. He slides a thick finger inside me and my eyes roll back in my head. A couple of strokes has me seeing stars as the most intense orgasm of my life rips through me.
I cry out, needing a vocal release for all of these sensations. My nails dig into his flesh. My entire body trembles beneath him. Then all at once, my muscles relax. Floaty, I go limp as I hover in the stratosphere.
Cian removes his hand only to replace it with cold wetness.
I jolt at the new sensation. “What is that?”
“Lube. Sorry it’s cold.”
“Why do we need lubricant?” Curiosity has emboldened me, otherwise I’d never ask such a question aloud.
“I always use extra lube to make everything easier. Trust me, we need it.”
Always. As in he’s had sex before—of course he has, he’s a grown man. Even so, the thought of him with another woman feels like slap in the face. He’s my first, but I’m his… However many, I don’t want to know.
“Oh,” I sharply inhale when he spreads the stuff over my vagina, working it inside me with one thick finger. Pushing away my troubling thoughts, I moan, giving into the delicious pleasure.
When I start moving my pelvis, demanding more, he slips in a second digit and the stretch burns. Adding more lube, he works me until I relax and it starts to feel good again.
I whimper and moan. He takes pity on me and flicks my clit. That’s all I need to send me careening over the edge of ecstasy for a second time.
I’m still trembling when he enters me with something long, thick, and hot. I tense up before remembering the only way I’m going to get through this is to relax.
“I’m ready,” I tell him, squeezing my eyes shut. “Take me.”
CHAPTER 4
Cian
Every inch I pump into my wife’s tight pussy is agonizing ecstasy. Her cunt strangles my cock, the sensation borders on painful, but I’m determined to see this through and soak up every drop of pleasure along the way. I can hardly believe it when I reach her barrier. She’s such a good fucking girl that she’s never even played with a dildo. My cock is the only thing that’s ever been inside her sweet pussy.
That realization consumes me, manifesting a raw possessiveness like I’ve never experienced before.
I push through and she whimpers. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. Relax. You’re doing so well. Just hold onto me, that’s right, just like that.” Sweat coats my skin. The effort to hold back, to inch into her, taking its toll. But I won’t rush this, not her very first time. I’m not a fucking monster. Not in that way, at least.
I’m still amazed at how quickly everything has twisted and turned in the past hour. When she wouldn’t obey me, and I had to cut off her dress, I had every intention of punishing her with a quick, impersonal fuck. Who cares if I hurt my enemy’s daughter—ex-enemy, I have to remind myself.
But then I touched her, and her body lit up, so responsive to my caresses. It made me crave more. Made me realize that aboveall else, she’s my wife. She deserves the respect that goes with that title.
The way she touched my dick, and the fear in her eyes that followed, delivered another blow to my icy resolve. So innocent, so naïve. A ripe, tempting fruit just waiting to be plucked and devoured.
I’m not a good enough man to resist such temptation.
The final straw came when she begged not to be sent back home. I wanted to ask her why she was so afraid of her father, but why the fuck would she confide in me? Though I know something isn’t right in that family. Lorenzo is…off. But that’s not her fault.
I finally had to admit to myself that I don’t hateher.She never did anything to me or my people. If anything, she’s a casualty of war, if not a victim. Taking out my anger and hatred of all Italians on her is unfair. I was being a dick. Which usually serves me well, but perhaps my wife deserves a different approach. Maybe.
Hating her for being a beautiful woman is also unfair. Elena isn’t my ex-fiancée. Yes, they both have dark red hair, and that ethereal kind of beauty that’s like a siren’s call. But Elena isn’ther. Elena isn’t a liar, or a devious, manipulative bitch. She’s sweet, sassy, and every kind of temptation I don’t need in my life right now.
But I want it. For tonight, I will give into it. Tomorrow, I’ll be in control again.
I groan as I finally bury myself balls deep in my soft, gorgeous wife. Staying still, I give her a moment to catch her breath, for her body to adjust to my invasion. She’s panting, clinging to me like I’m her life line, and goddamn does she feel good beneath me, and around my cock.
For the first time since my ex betrayed me, I want to turn on the lights and actually see the woman in my bed. I yearn to watchher face as I fuck her, the tension in her features when she’s close, and how she looks when she falls apart. That right there tells me how dangerous this woman is to me. I’ve known her less than twelve hours and she’s already tempting me to deviate from my patterns. To break my own rules.
“Are you okay,mo stoirín?” Why the fuck do I keep calling her that? She’s notmylittle darling. I need to stop.
