“Do you think that frightens me away, cara?” His voice dropped an octave.
“Everything you are,” he murmured, “will be mine to know first.”
His gaze pinned me, unrelenting. “And don’t mistake this for a request. This is an order.”
“Get on your knees. Unzip my belt. Pull down my trousers. Take my cock out. And suck.”
The command hit like something physical.
My breath snagged.
I forced myself to speak through it.
“Your dick’s twitching and desperate for a warm mouth, huh? Go ahead, call your mistress then.”
“Me? I’m your wife... not some cheap slut you can use whenever you’re horny.”
The moment the words left my mouth, his eyes darkened, and the air between us constricted.
I could feel it pressing in, suffocating, impossible to ignore.
“Let me be clear,” he said, voice low. “I may hate you, but I will honor the vows of this marriage. That means I have no reason to cheat on you.”
“Having dinner with your mistress is not cheating?” I barked, the words sharp, fueled by the anger and pain that still simmered beneath the surface.
“Cheating,” he said, each word landing like a stone, “is being sexually intimate with anyone who is not my wife. Violet will always remain my top priority, but nothing, nothing intimate will ever happen between us.”
I swallowed hard, my voice dropping to a hesitant whisper.
“It’s convenient for you to define cheating that way when it suits you. Am I also allowed to go to dinner with another man?”
He moved then, slow, controlled, but with a force I could feel through every nerve.
His hand shot up, wrapping around my throat.
It did not crush, but it was enough to steal my breath.
My back slammed against the wall, hard.
The air thinned.
My vision narrowed at the edges, darkness creeping in like a warning I could not ignore.
I grabbed instinctively at his wrist, fingers digging in, nails pressing against the taut skin, but he did not flinch.
“You would do no such thing,” he murmured, the words like a shockwave through my chest.
“You wouldn’t even try. You know why? Because you cannot. Because I will not allow it.”
My chest tightened at the weight behind his words.
This was not tenderness.
This was not affection.
This was ownership, raw and unflinching.
“In reality,” he continued, his voice low and dangerously calm, “you’re not just my wife.”
