I don’t ask for permission, knowing she said not to touch her again. Today is the exception, as everyone is watching us, and I am going to take full advantage.
My lips press on her soft ones, and she trembles in my arms, so I cup her cheek to shield her from prying eyes. It’s also a testament to my cherishing her and not wanting to share this moment with anyone else.
She takes a step back, a blush coloring her face as she faces the audience.
Fuck, she’s phenomenal.
I know the real reason, and it messes with my head.
Placing my palm on her back, I feel the hundreds of mini buttons. It will take forever and a fucking day to remove this thing.
She senses my frustration and tilts her head up. “Like my dress? I picked it specially for you.”
A grumble rumbles in my throat. “To drive me crazy, right?”
Cheers and congratulations erupt as my wife presses her palm to her chest, smiling and thanking everyone.
The charade ends once she slips inside the elegant Rolls.
She resembles a ball of wired tension that could snap at any moment. Looking out the window, she clasps her hands tightly on her lap.
I loathe the walls she erects between us, but I will dismantle every single one. Sisyphus has nothing on my perseverance. Plus, she doesn’t share the cruelty of a god to punish me forever.
I watch the curve of her slender neck, my fingers itching to trace her delicate cheekbones, my lips hungering for a taste of her honeyed skin. Her silky, long dark hair I ache to wrap around my fist, her pouty mouth I am dying to kiss. She’s exquisite—an out-of-this-world beauty.
“Thank you for wearing my gift.”
“My sister made it. Of course I will wear it,” she says, voice thick with annoyance, but something soft threads through her bitter tone.
I drag a hand down my face, sighing. Sure, but I was involved in every stage, not to mention the price I paid for this exclusive set.
She can reject me a hundred times. I will bounce back a hundred and one times.
As the driver takes us to the wedding venue, I inch my hand to touch her for just one moment.
She catches my movement and scoots away, almost climbing the side of the door to put even more distance between us.
I spread my arms to emphasize my point. “There’s no place you could go where I wouldn’t find you.”
She stares me down. “So what, does this marriage include rape?”
If she had thrust a fucking knife into my torso and gutted my insides, it still would have hurt less.
“Rape when you’re a slut for my cock?” I snap.
She throws her head back and laughs, laughing some more, the hysterical, derogatory sounds making me fucking seethe. I half expect fumes to expel out of my nostrils.
“Oh, husband. Anyone could have done it. Can you say the same?”
In an instant, I wrap my hand around her throat, dragging her face an inch away from mine. It takes the will of a sinner with only one chance at absolution not to blow it, not to slam my mouth on hers and kiss her senseless until she swallows her fucking lies.
“It’s always been me. The ease with which you lie, wife… just as shameless as when I have my cock buried so deep inside you, and you still beg for more.”
She licks her lips, her eyes becoming glassy while her biting tone shoots up straight venom. “If you were the last man on earth and humanity’s future would depend on us, I wouldn’t let you fuck me, husband.”
Sliding my hand toward the base of her neck, I stroke her pulse with my thumb. “Such big words. Do you have any idea who you’re playing?”
“Yeah, with a simp,” she rasps. “For my pussy.”
