He moved slowly, almost reverently, as if savoring the moment.
“Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice softer now, a whisper against my skin. “Tell me to stop, and I will. But something tells me my naughty wife won’t.”
I knew I should say the words. I should have wanted to push him away, to reclaim the control he kept stripping from me. But when the toy pressed against me, its smooth surface sliding into me inch by inch, all coherent thought dissolved.
It stretched me and made me feel so full that I gasped. He leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear. “If you can’t handle this,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress, “how will you ever handle my cock?”
His words sent a shiver of indignation and arousal down my spine. I instinctively clenched around the toy, my breath hitching as he withdrew his hand, the ghost of his touch lingering. As he pulled my panties up, his fingers grazed my clit, and my hips jerked involuntarily.
“Eat your dinner.”
I reached for my fork with a shaking hand. The room was suddenly stifling. Every movement reminded me of the toy nestled inside me, the way it stretched and filled me. I focused on the plate in front of me, determined to pretend I wasn’t unraveling.
And then it began to vibrate.
The fork clattered from my hand, and I sucked in a breath. I sent him an accusatory glare, but he only cocked an eyebrow, the picture of composure.
“I can control it. Whenever I want. Like now.”
The vibration intensified, the sensation radiating through me. I clenched my thigh and held my breath as I squirmed in my chair, trying to find relief. He watched me closely, his gaze heavy with lust, his emotions seeping through the bond and feeding my own.
“Breathe,” he said. “You’re going to come right here in front of me, aren’t you?”
I shook my head, biting my lip to stifle a moan. But the pressure built and built until I couldn’t fight it anymore. The orgasm tore through me, a silent cry catching in my throat as my body tightened and shuddered. I gripped the edge of the table, my vision swimming as the toy continued its torment.
He turned it off, and the sudden absence was almost as shocking as the climax itself. I slumped back in my chair, my body trembling, my breathing ragged. He had a smug look on his face, his satisfaction radiating through the bond.
“Finish your dinner,” he said. “We’re just getting started.”
After we finished eating,Raffaele led me out of the dining hall, his hand firm around my wrist. My body was still reeling, my thighs trembling with aftershocks, and the infernal toy inside me made each step a challenge. I could feel it shifting slightly as I walked, the wetness between my legs making the sensation even more unbearable. The bastard hadn’t even given me a chance to adjust.
I gritted my teeth. “Where the fuck are we going?”
He didn’t answer at first, his long strides forcing me to stumble to keep up. His grip was firm but not painful, just commanding enough to make me burn with frustration.
Finally, he glanced over his shoulder, the smirk on his lips igniting a fire in my chest. “I’ve decided to host a private party.”
My stomach dropped. A party? What fresh humiliation did he have in store for me now? The bond thrummed between us, and I could feel his excitement—a dark, predatory thrill that only heightened my apprehension.
“Raffaele,” I hissed, tugging at his hand. “Take this thing out of me.”
“Not a chance, my naughty little wife. You want it out… do it yourself.”
I wanted to scream, to claw at him, but part of me didn’t want this to end. I focused on putting one foot in front of the other, trying not to let the slick glide of the toy distract me. But gods,it was impossible. Every step sent a ripple of sensation through me, the friction teasing places I didn’t want to be teased.
We stopped in front of a tall, ornate door. He pushed it open with ease, revealing a balcony overlooking a grand ballroom. Below, dressed in opulent finery, vampires, fae, and shifters mingled. Raffaele had gathered some of the most prominent and wealthy beings for his soiree. A full orchestra played on a stage at the far end, the music swelling and filling the space with a hauntingly beautiful melody.
Raffaele stepped behind me, his chest brushing against my back. He slid his arms around my waist and pulled me closer. I could feel the heat of him, the solid strength of his body, and his erection at my ass. My pulse raced as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric of my dress.
“Keep your eyes on them,” he murmured. “Let them see how easily I can break you.”
The words sent a shiver down my spine. My cheeks burned as his hands roamed, one sliding up to tease my clit while the other pressed against my lower belly, holding me in place. The toy shifted inside me, and the added pressure had me biting back a gasp.
“Raffaele,” I whispered shakily. “People can see us.”
But we both knew I didn’t want him to stop. The bond betrayed me, radiating my confusion, my fury, and my undeniable arousal. I hated him for it. Hated him for knowing exactly how to control me, how to make me feel like this.
His lips brushed against my ear. “How did I know that you were such a good fucking girl and would eat this up?”
