Page 75
A minute later, it buzzes again—Beckett—and I ignore that one, too.
It buzzes a third time with Xander’s name flashing across the screen. With a weary sigh, I snatch the device from the cool countertop and swipe to answer. “This had better be good.”
“Vance.” Xander’s voice comes through, strained and apologetic. “I’ve got something, but it’s not much. Surveillance footage from the night she left. The building across the street from yours. I finally got access to their security cameras.”
My heart hammers a frantic, desperate beat against my ribcage. “And?”
“The night she left,” he says, frustration in his voice. “It’s footage of her getting into a cab outside our apartment. But Vance… the angle is shit. It’s from across the street, and it’s grainy. I can’t make out the company name on the door, and the plate is completely blurred.”
“So you’re telling me that after sixteen fucking days, the best thing we have is a blurry video of Sophia getting into a cab we can’t identify?”
“Vance—”
“No.” I drag a hand over my face, forcing myself to breathe, remembering that my brothers are trying to help me. “Don’t give me another apology, Xander. I’ve heard enough of them.”
“I’m checking every camera in the direction the cab went,” he adds, his voice grim. “Traffic cams, ATM footage, security from storefronts. I’m running every piece of data I can get my hands on, but it’s gonna take time.”
Time… It’s already taken too much fucking time.
“Call me when you have something I can use to bring my wife home.”
I end the call, exasperated, tossing the phone onto the counter before stalking toward the master bathroom, my movements stiff with rage. I need to get out of my head, wash away another failed day of trying to find my wife. After stripping from my clothes, I step into the shower, the hot water a punishing spray hitting my skin. I brace my hands against the cool tile, my head bowed, letting the water sluice over my back and shoulders as my thoughts wander to Sophia.
For the first time since she left, my body responds with a violent, undeniable surge of arousal. My cock, which has been as lifeless and dormant as my heart, hardens, rising until it’s a throbbing, demanding presence pressed against my stomach. I’m so fucking hard that it hurts, my gnawing hunger for the woman I love needing to be fed. Wrapping my hand around my cock, I close my eyes and give it exactly what it needs.
Sophia stands in the doorway, the light from the hallway framing her like a halo. In the simple white cotton dress she’s wearing and blonde locks falling over her shoulders, she looks like a fucking angel. She turns slightly, and my breath catches at the sight of her belly. Once flat and toned, it now has a soft, gentle swell, a testament to our child growing inside her.
Crashing through the threshold, I force her backward, my hands slamming against the wall on both sides of her head, caging her in. “Did you really think you could run from me, sweetheart?” I growl. “Did you really think you could take what’s mine and just fucking disappear?”
She opens her mouth, but I’m not interested in her excuses. I want her penance. My fingers hook under my belt, and I slowly pull it free, the leather sliding through the loops with a quiet rasp. I fold it once in my hand, the buckle settling against my palm. “Bend over,” I command, my tone leaving no room for argument.
She hesitates for a fraction of a second, a flicker of defiance in her gaze, before she slowly turns and bends over the edge of the bed. With her hands braced on the mattress and her belly resting on the edge, the position pushes her ass up, presenting it to me as an offering.
Impatiently, and with rough hands, I lift her dress, baring the pale unblemished skin of her perfectly round cheeks. A state that I am about to change. Holding her with my free hand, I raise the belt. “You don’t get to run from Daddy,” I snarl, bringing the leather down on her with a sharp, stinging crack. She cries out, her body jerking in surprise and pain.
My hand flies over my cock, my grip punishing and tight as I imagine the sound of leather hitting her skin and the sharp intake of her breath at the sudden sting. My hips jerk forward, fucking into my fist.
“You’re mine.” I bring the belt down again, and a matching red welt blooms on her other cheek. “You don’t get to leave.”
I spank her again and again without holding back. I want her to feel it. I need her to carry the memory of this punishment on her skin for days, a physical reminder of the consequences of her actions. Choked sobs tremble from her lips as she takes her punishment with her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists as her body shakes.
I twist my wrist on the upstroke, my thumb smearing the pre-cum over the swollen head of my cock. The pleasure is sharp, almost violent, a counterpoint to the rage simmering in my blood.
When her ass is a fiery, beautiful red, I toss the belt aside and spread her cheeks to expose the tight, puckered rosette of her virgin ass. Leaning closer, I spit a thick glob of saliva and watch, mesmerized, as it rolls over her clenched hole. I press my thumb over her, roughly smearing my spit as her body tenses beneath my touch. “I’ll be gentler than I’d like,” I promise in a low, rough rumble, “because I don’t want to hurt you. But there are consequences for your actions, sweetheart.”
I work my thumb into her, the tight ring of muscle resisting before reluctantly yielding. She’s so impossibly tight that I can’t help but wonder how she’s going to feel when I make her take my cock. I push a finger into her pussy, finding her slick and wet before adding a second. My hand delves between her legs, fucking both her holes as I ready her for me.
“I’m going to fuck your pussy while I stretch you, and then you’re going to take my fat cock in this tight little hole.”
Working her relentlessly, I hastily undo my pants with my free hand. The moment my cock springs free, I line myself up with her dripping entrance and thrust into her in one smooth, deep stroke. She cries out, a mix of pain and pleasure as I fill her completely, her pussy clamping down on me like a silky vise. I fuck her hard and fast, my hips pistoning and balls slapping against her sensitive flesh with every punishing thrust as I thrust my finger into her ass.
“You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart,” I growl, my voice a low, possessive rumble. “You look so fucking good with both your holes filled.”
She whimpers, her body trembling as her hips push back to meet me. Her breath comes in sharp, ragged gasps, her inner muscles fluttering as she gets close. As she teeters on the precipice, I add a second finger to her ass. It’s her undoing. She shatters, the orgasm crashing over her with a scream. Her body convulses on the mattress, both holes clenching around me in tandem so tightly I nearly spill into her pussy.
The pressure to come builds quickly, my balls drawing tight with the familiar, tingling sensation that starts at the base of my spine. I’m close, so fucking close. I grit my teeth, my hand a blur on my cock as I chase the feeling of being inside her.
I keep thrusting, my fingers still pumping into her, drawing out her pleasure until she’s a boneless, whimpering mess, her body limp and pliant beneath me. When I pull out of her pussy, my cock is glistening with her arousal, slick enough to replace my fingers in her ass. After easing them out, I press the thick, swollen head of my cock against her tight entrance.
