Married to the Bad Boy(57)

“Whatever, just fuck me!”

The laughter booming from his throat pisses me off. I want to turn around and grab his lapels, and force him to fuck me.

“I need you to scream.”

His cock plays with my pussy, the hard length sliding along my lips. I stick out my ass, trying to grind on him, but his broad hand stops me.

Scream? Scream what?

He doesn’t make it hard. The vibrator returns with a vengeance, and he slips it inside my wetness, pulsing it against my clit, pulling it out and rubbing the sensitive area, and then back inside. It’s agony.

“FUCK ME!”

The scream rips from my throat, and then my cheeks flood with shame as I see people at the table looking around for the noise.

Oh fuck.

But I forget all that the moment he flings the toy away, gripping my hips to position himself. The broad head of his cock pushes against my entrance and then he slides in, my walls tight around him. He sighs as though he stepped into a warm bath and then he digs in hard, knocking the air from my chest. It’s almost painful, but I’m so intent on clinging to him that I don’t give a shit.

I hear the grin in his voice. “I’m going to hammer your cunt so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight.”

And he does. My arms fly out, trying to seize purchase as he thrusts hard enough to throw my body forward. Solid hands wrench my hips backward, and every time his hips connect with mine in a loud smack, I groan out loud.

“Who owns you? Say it.”

A choked-off scream rips through my throat as his cock throbs inside me, pounding so hard I can feel the pain rocking through my body. Then he pulls out and turns me around so that I’m flat on my back, face-to-face with him.

For the first time, I see him as he really is. He’s not some guy I just paid to do a job for me. He’s Tony Vidal, a man who always gets what he wants, a wise guy who has decided he must have me.

My legs hitch over his shoulders as he thrusts inside me. He leans over, my legs screaming as he seizes a fistful of my hair and kisses me. His hot, urgent tongue swallows my protests, chokes off my moans, and I realize how much I’ve been craving this. All this time we’ve been fucking, it was good, clean fun, but it was empty.

This is completely different. It’s dirty and angry—reminding me of home in a twisted way. I need to feel like I belong to someone. He bites my tongue as I scream into his mouth, but he keeps rutting me hard as if he fucking hates me. I love it.

He’s fucking a new feeling inside me, something that makes me kiss him harder. I’m surrendering to him.

His cock pulses inside me, and I cling to his neck, moaning as he utters a groan and his legs slam hard into the table. Then I clench around him, feeling the explosion rip through me. Tenderness clenches my heart as he pulls me upright, wrapping his arms around me as his cock fills me with his essence.

My hand smoothes his lapels as his chest rises and falls, and I curl my fingers around his neck, gazing into his eyes, wrinkled with happiness. I feel lucky to have him. I’m growing more and more infatuated with him, or maybe it’s the glow of the orgasm making my heart pound harder when he gives me a gentle kiss.

“You’ve never fucked me like that before.”

“Did you like it?”

Then it’s my turn to lean in closer to whisper in his ear. “Do it again.”

* * *

It starts off like a small spark. Yellow bursts of light flinging out into space, only to disappear almost immediately. Over and over again, until it catches. Just one little flame, fairly easy to snuff out.

That’s what I’ve got. A little flame. It quietly warms my chest as I watch him get ready for his work. There’s no denying that I’ve got it pretty bad for him. I don’t know where it came from, but all of a sudden, I’m attached. Pinpricks of fear spread over my skin as I think about his work and the kind of trouble he might get himself into.

I like him, and I don’t know what to do about it.

His gaze meets mine through his bathroom mirror as he notices my stare. “What is it?”

My face flushes as though he can tell what I’m thinking by watching my eyes, and I shrug. He hesitates for a moment and continues shaving.

“I’m going to my place to pick up a few things.”

He bends his face into the sink and washes it before drying it off with a fresh towel. The light switches off and bathes him in darkness.

“And what if that shit stain is waiting for you there?”

Gentle hands cradle my face as he walks to the bed. Sometimes it hurts to see the indifference in his eyes. He rarely ever comes to life, except when he’s thrusting between my legs.

“Well, we’re engaged. He can’t touch me.”