“That’s right, love. Focus on me. Only me. I’ve got you.” He shifts to hitch my thighs up, spreading me obscenely so he can wedge himself closer. I can feel my pussy contracting around nothing, responding to the stimulation of his words. “Fuck, you’re so perfect for me. Look at you. Always so greedy for me.”
One hand grips my waist until it’s definitely going to leave a bruise, but I don’t care. The other is guiding the fat head of his cock to where I’m slippery and desperate for him. I wrap a hand around his shoulder, needing something to hold as he shoves himself inside the slightest bit.
He makes a sound of anguish in the back of his throat, and then his mouth is on mine. Demanding, conquering. I submit, feeding him desperate whimpers that I try but fail to smother.
His hand retracts as I take him completely, wincing a little. He’s girthy to the point I have trouble working him inside. Ittakes several thrusts before I can, swirling my hips to achieve it comfortably. His hands fly to my hips, and I focus on him, only to realize he’s arching his neck in restraint, his throat appealingly bared to me. I have to resist the urge to bite him there, the ferocity of my desire taking me by surprise.
I shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t like how it feels, but especially not like this. Not after the limo, not after my sister. Not after the way he’s used me and, even more regrettably, made me like it. Made me crave it. Made it to where every time I caught sight of my name tattooed on his fingers, I imagined them wrapped around my throat in a fucked-up necklace.
I both hate and covet him. This twisted game we are playing makes me sick, but it’s because I know if I give in and let him win, I’ll lose a part of myself that keeps me safe. And nothing about Aiden O’Connor is safe. Nothing about Aiden says he isn’t anything but a snake, biding his time, waiting for the moment to strike.
Even though I know this, even though I have all the rationalities spinning through my thoughts, his dick stretches me to the point of discomfort, making my skin burn white hot and clouding away those rational thoughts. My hips wiggle from side to side as I search for a comfortable fit. The piercing rubs inside me, stroking all sorts of new places to life with weighted fire.
Through the haze of my thoughts, his hissed exhalation reaches my ears, but I can’t parse out what it could mean.
Lightning moves along my skin, arcing out of where we’re connected and fizzing through my blood. For the first time since that night, I feel the same attraction to him I did when I’d tumbled into his bed against my better judgment. I’m so wet, his dick is soaked.
My eyes fly open, which is a mistake of epic proportions because they clash with his again, and I feel the connection likeI’m drowning in the quicksilver depths. His pupils are blown wide, eating at the silver, and the tattoos on his throat aren’t enough to cover the ruddy flush spreading up his skin. I’m doing this to him.
“Are you gonna come for me,bhean chéile?”
His words barely penetrate as a haze descends on me. I shift my hips, angling until I can maneuver without pain, and then I find a rhythm that has both of our faces contorting out of our careful masks of indifference. It shouldn’t feel good, but his cock is so fucking perfect it’s almost impossible not to work myself against him, chasing the pleasure.
I would have thought he’d press me down into the bed, pound into me with abandon until he got what he wanted, and then it would be over. Some sick part of me wishes that’s what he’d done. It would have been easier to take, in a twisted way, than this. Than for him to allow me to dictate the pace, getting me ready and forcing me to be present in the moment. Fucking him this way means I can study his every reaction. Somehow, he’s both given me power and taken it away in one act of submission.
That’s the only explanation for why I find my hips rolling in a fluid motion against him, working my clit against his pelvic bone until my breath comes out in harsh pants. If he’s going to make me enjoy this, then he’s going to do the same.
The moment the thought occurs to me, I search out the signs of everything he likes, determined to ruin him and make him feel just as vulnerable as I am. Make him feel what I feel. Distract him from this nightmare.
“I will if you make me,” I pant in a low voice.
His Adam’s apple bobs, and his gaze narrows at the challenge in my tone. His fists bite into my hips before he can stop them, and it doesn’t escape my notice that he has to force himself to gently release his fingers one by one. I grind against him, takinghim so deep it’s almost painful, and his muscles twitch between my thighs.
“I don’t have to make you, do I?” he taunts. “You’re already almost there. My fucked-up little wife. Are you going to get off on this? Letting me take you. Knowing they’re watching and they can’t have you.”
Coasting on his dark, twisted words, I draw his head down until his mouth caresses my nipples. “Get them wet,” I say, and his face goes slack. At first, I think it’s with fury or shock, but then he wraps his lips around one tightened peak, and I realize it’s with pleasure.
Fuck.Fuck. I throw my head back as he traces my nipple, then sucks it deep and nibbles. Bolts of heat shoot straight between my legs, and my thoughts go hazy. My need for vengeance and my body’s desire for him are a twisted knot that grows more tangled with every thrust and lick.
I force myself to focus on where he moves to my other breast, lifting it to his mouth. He doesn’t stop until they’re both glistening and as hard as knots. I cup his jaw with both hands, urging him to thrust into me with slow, grinding movements.
“So obedient,” I murmur in a low voice so that the cameras won’t pick it up, as his silver eyes gleam down at me, hazy and starstruck. “You’re doing so good for me. My good husband doing what he’s told. Just like I knew he would.”
Triumph flares inside me, sick and warped, when he moans and drops to his elbows until we’re pressed together from hip to chest. I’m not fucking sorry to say I am ruthless, hunting his pleasure until he’s as taut as a rope above me.
I’m so enraptured by his trembling hands, the carved lines of his contracting pectoral muscles, and the grimace of pleasure and pain sculpting his face that my orgasm takes me by complete surprise. Stopping it is beyond my ability.
He comes with a deep groan I feel throughout my entire body, and it’s the power that washes over me, the sheer control of this man who has mine clenching around him, sucking his thick cock deep inside me, and milking every last drop of his release until he collapses into a limp mess on the bed.
I go to move, and he rasps out, “Wait, don’t,” and stills my retreat. Aftershocks have my pussy clenching down on his hardness still inside me, and it’s an effort to keep from how good it feels from showing on my face.
CHAPTER 23
CATRIONA
Aiden’s weight pressing me into the mattress should make me struggle for freedom, but it anchors me to the moment when my head is as light as a balloon, threatening to drift right off my shoulders. He reaches the bedside table, his fingers moving as quick as lightning on the screen of his phone. Not even a minute later, he puts it back on the table, and his hands land on either side of my shoulders, his wide frame blotting out the rest of the world. Somehow, my palms find their way to his chest, and all I can do is touch him. Give in to the impulse because I don’t know if I’ll get another chance. The smart thing to do would be to get away from him as quickly as possible.
But I can’t.
