Page 58 of Sins of Arrogance

Ev­ery­thing a man like me could ask for in a wife too.

In the be­gin­ning, Kara was noth­ing more than a clause in the con­tract that al­lowed me to ad­vance to cap­tain.

Now, she’s my ob­ses­sion.

And it all started on our wed­ding night, when I had to leave her or break the terms stip­u­lated in the con­tract.

Seven Years Ago

My bride breathes shal­lowly be­side me, bone­less and sated, while my body buzzes with en­ergy and need.

I don’t feel need. I get aroused. I have sex, or I beat off. I don’t need.

Liv­ing with­out sex since sign­ing the con­tract has not been a hard­ship. No mat­ter how many times Dier­dre tried to re­new sex­ual re­la­tions, I was never tempted.

I don’t break my prom­ises and one of the clauses in my con­tract with the Shaugh­nessy Mob is fi­delity.

Dis­pers­ing my thoughts like mist in the sun, Kara’s silky, tight heat flut­ters around my mid­dle fin­ger. My dick’s so hard it’s press­ing against my stom­ach.

Need. De­sire. Crave.

To be in­side that soaked, grasp­ing tun­nel. Bleedin’ feckin’ hell.

I should leave now.

Be­cause that is the one thing I can­not do. I agreed to no pen­e­tra­tive sex un­til af­ter she is preg­nant with my son.

I thought it would be easy. Lust has never driven me. Sex is a bod­ily func­tion, not a daily, or even weekly ne­ces­sity.

Kara is a sweet woman. Shy. Not some­one to get like this over.

I need to pull my fin­ger out of her and roll away. Get up, dress and walk out like the com­posed bas­tard I’ve al­ways been.

But I don’t.

I feckin’ can’t.

Keep­ing my own breath­ing even with more ef­fort than it should take, I stay ex­actly where I am.

Tak­ing in my fill of the bride who was just sup­posed to be part of the bar­gain. A con­tract guar­an­tor.

A pretty pink blush cov­ers her usu­ally milky-white skin from her mouth-wa­ter­ing tits right down to the pussy I want to taste again. Her lashes flut­ter as she tries to re­cover and her hips make an aborted move­ment.

But my hand holds her in place.

Those in­no­cent hazel eyes fly open, widen­ing as she seems to re­al­ize, all at once, that I’m still buried two-knuck­les deep in her hot cunt. She tries to press her thighs to­gether in knee-jerk re­ac­tion that’s no more suc­cess­ful than when she tried to shift her hips.

But it jos­tles my fin­ger in­side her, and her chan­nel tight­ens as she moans.

Fuck it.

In one swift move, I pull my hand away from the glis­ten­ing apex of her thighs and move to strad­dle her. I have to force my­self to set­tle my ass over the gen­tle curve of her lower ab­domen when all I want is to bury my­self be­tween her sweet, juicy thighs.

But her big, soft baps will have to do. Those tits were made to be fucked.

And my cum can’t go any­where near her newly claimed pussy.

My hand is drenched with her, and I suck her juices off my fin­ger while she watches, her lips parted, her eyes hot.