The Reluctant Wife: Chapter 48

It didn’t strike me until now how the balance of power between my father and me has changed. And it’s all because of this man. My father has never treated me badly. But he’s always favored my brothers before me when it comes to matters of state.

He preferred I focus on the marketing and PR for the country, while Viktor was involved in economic policy and developmental plans. He’d have involved Brandon too, except my middle brother kept his distance from the family.

I tried to fight it, and Viktor, too, tried to change my father’s mind, but he was unshakeable.

I haven’t been married even a day, and my husband has made a difference. He picked up on how much it bothers me to be cut out of the plans being made for the future of my beloved Verenza, and he wants to fix it. I lean in and kiss him soundly.

I must take him by surprise, for he goes still, then he plants his big palm on the back of my neck and, holding me in place, he deepens the kiss. Deep and drugging, it shoots heat through my veins.

My thighs wobble, and my toes tingle. Electricity courses through my veins, and I feel like I’ve stuck my fingers into a socket. We break apart, panting, and I gasp. ‘Wow.’

‘Indeed.’ He squeezes the back of my neck. ‘What was that for?’

‘For—’ I try to put the emotions I’m feeling into words. ‘For being in my corner. For knowing what I want better than I do. For respecting me and not taking me for granted. For recognizing what it means to me to be on that planning team, and being ready to fight for me, when not even my own family has done so. For’—I lift my gown and straddle his lap—’apologizing to me. For putting your ego aside and being willing to meet me halfway.’

‘What are you doing?’ He frowns.

‘What does it look like?’ I place my hand on the tent at his crotch. ‘Whoa, someone’s ready.’

‘A constant state around you.’ He smirks, then groans when I squeeze the rigid column I can feel through his pants. I begin to massage him, and he blows out a breath. ‘We’re at our wedding reception, and there are three hundred VVIP guests out there. But I, know something, they don’t.”

I manage to string my thoughts together into a response. “Oh?”

“I know that their haughty Duchess is an exhibitionist. And that she derives great pleasure from praise kink, especially when it’s spiked with the occasional degradation.”

To hear myself described in such great detail makes me feel like I have his focus. That I am his center of attention. That he cares about me enough to know exactly how to elevate my desire.

His eyes gleam. “I know that if I touch you between your legs, you’ll be wet, and that your pink swollen clit yearns for my ministrations.”

I squeeze my thighs to stop moisture from seeping out. But I can’t stop the gasp that escapes me.

‘All I know is that you’re my husband, and I want you.’ I toss my head. ‘Everyone else all go fuck themselves.’

‘What will your people say when they realize their sweet princess swears like a trooper?’

‘That I’m human? Like them?’

He laughs. ‘I fucking love your spirit, you know that?’

‘Can I say that I love your dick?’ I flutter my eyelashes at him.

‘You can do better.’ He jerks his chin. ‘Get up.’

‘Huh?’ I take in the unyielding set of his jaw and realize he’s serious. I rise to my feet.

He slides his legs apart, then he shrugs off his jacket, folds it, then drops it on the ground between his legs.

‘On your knees.’

Hearing him say those words in that hard, gravelly voice turns my pussy into a melting mess. My knees tremble, and I sink down onto the soft material of his jacket. ‘Thank you,’ I murmur.

‘I’ll never let anything hurt you, baby.’ He searches my eyes. ‘Except me. And that’s only if you ask me to.’

‘Oh, god.’ I squeeze my thighs together. ‘Why do I find that so hot?’

I don’t realize I’ve spoken that aloud, until he closes his fingers around the nape of my neck. His fingers are so long and so thick, they meet his thumb in the front. I feel shackled by him, shackled to him. I feel vulnerable and exposed, kneeling here in my very fancy, one-hundred-thousand-dollar reception dress. I feel…perfect.

And when he leans in, kisses my forehead, and whispers, ‘You like it because you’re submissive, baby. Because you like to be told what to do when it comes to sex. Because I know what you like, better than you do, when it comes to sex.’

My entire body lights up like I’m a human Christmas tree. A shiver squeezes up my spine, and I sense him smile. He leans back and eyes me lazily. ‘With your people, you may be the Duchess of Verenza, but when you’re with me, you’re my fucktoy. You feel me?’

The coarseness of his words is a delicious contrast to the bowing, the scraping, and the polite language I’m generally treated to. It’s so different, so incongruous… It feels so natural, so right, that my need shoots up to fever pitch. I begin to slide my free hand under the skirt of my dress, but he shakes his head. ‘You don’t come until I let you, remember?’

‘B-but…’ My pussy throbs. A heavy weight settles between my legs, and my clit feels like it’s swollen to twice its size. ‘Can I rub myself, please? Just once?’

He shakes his head.

I scowl. I so want to defy him. But he’s right; I can’t go against his orders, not when he’s my dominant. I raise my hand and place it on his thigh. ‘Fine, have it your way.’

‘Oh, I will,’ he says in a mean voice that pulses another wave of lust under my skin. ‘Unzip me.’

The authority in his voice propels me to action. I reach forward and oblige him by sliding down the zipper. His boxers are tented, and the thick column of his cock is outlined against the fabric.

‘Take it out.’ He raises his hips, and I pull down his briefs and his pants. His cock springs free. The swollen head is almost purple with arousal; it’s thick and long and every bit as monstrous as I remember. My pussy trembles. My stomach squeezes in on itself. I curl my fingers around the base, and he groans. ‘F-u-c-k.’

Liquid heat invades my blood stream. I lean in and, propelled by instinct, I lick up the underside of his shaft. Instantly, he digs his fingers into my hair and tugs. Pinpricks of sensation crowd my scalp. And when I close my mouth around the fat head, he shoots his hips up from the bench.

‘Woman, you’re killing me.’ His voice is gravelly, like he swallowed dirt, and when I look up at him from under my eyelids, his features are flushed. His lips are pressed together like he’s barely holding onto his control, his green eyes burning with unbridled lust. He looks like a marauding devil, or a god who’s on the verge of losing control. I lick my tongue over the velvety tip, and his nostrils flare. ‘You’re going to pay for this, baby,’ he says through gritted teeth.

I merely swirl my tongue around the perimeter of the head, and he makes a growling sound at the back of his throat. It’s so very male, so filled with desire, so hungry that it lights a fuse in my chest. Urgency grips me. I squeeze my fingers around the base and dig the fingers of my other hand into his thigh for purchase. Then I lower my head and take him down my throat.

‘Fucking hell.’ He holds my hair back from my face, tightening his grip, and when I try to draw back, he holds me in place. The fact that I’m unable to move should alarm me, but my body seems to understand, for my muscles relax. My shoulders loosen, and once again, when I look up at him, he’s watching me with naked possession. ‘Give in, baby. Let me guide you. Let me show you how good it can be for you.’ The husky promise in his voice makes me squeeze my thighs together. I order my body to slacken and give myself up to him.

‘Good girl,’ he rumbles.

And I almost come with the approval. That’s all I want. This man’s validation. All along, I’ve been trying to please the world, when really, the only thing that matters is that I please this man. It’s so simple. All my needs are centered right here where we are joined. All my wishes and hopes and dreams fall away. I’m reduced to my base self, which wants the pain and the pleasure he can bestow on me. He begins to maneuver me, pulling me back until his cock is balanced at the rim of my mouth, then forward until he slips down my throat. I swallow, and he blows out a breath. His dick thickens and presses against my throat. His thigh muscles tremble, and a current seems to run through his body. Then he pauses. ‘Change of plans.’ He pulls out.

‘What are you—’ I huff as I’m lifted onto the seat next to him. ‘Why—’ I begin again, but he cuts me off by pressing his mouth to mine.

He must taste his cum, for he makes that familiar growling sound in his chest. ‘My taste on your lips is the most erotic thing ever.’

The next second, he slides down to kneel in front of me. Then he pulls up the skirt of my dress until it’s bunched around my hips. The material is going to crease which, in turn, is going to show when we walk inside, but at this stage, I’m beyond caring. He fits himself between my legs, forcing my thighs apart. Then, he hooks his finger into the waistband of my panties and tugs. It snaps. I cry out, then gasp as he licks up my seam. Goosebumps pepper my thighs. My stomach jumps. Longing crowds my belly, my chest, my very soul. It overwhelms me, and I try to pull away.

But he grips my thighs and holds me in place. He hooks his elbows under my legs and pulls me to the edge of the bench. Then, he throws my legs over his shoulders and stuffs his tongue inside my cunt.