by Stella Gray
What I wanted was for him to pull me tight against him. To bend me over the table right there and take me the way he always had—rough and intense and so hot I could hardly stand it.
“I’m your husband,” he practically roared. “And I am entitled to know where you are at all times. I’m the only person who can keep you safe. Or are you still figuring that out?”
I wanted to believe that Stefan was acting this way because he was genuinely worried about my safety. His caveman ways might even be charming if he actually cared about me. But this was all about control. And I was more than a little afraid that he was the reason I wasn’t safe.
I couldn’t ignore Gavin’s accusation that Stefan had been responsible for drugging me. I still didn’t know if I believed it, but I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that it had been Stefan’s attempt to make me think I wasn’t safe going out on my own. That I would be in danger if my husband didn’t know exactly where I was, every second of every day.
“Where. Are. You. Going,” he ground out.
He was still holding onto me, waiting for an answer, waiting for me to do what I always did—acquiesce to his demands. He fully expected that he would win this argument. But I refused to play along this time. And part of me was itching for a fight, to finally have it out with him.
I wanted to see the look on his face when I accused him of drugging me, when he realized that I was smarter than he gave me credit for, more worldly than the naïve, spoiled senator’s daughter he assumed I was. Even if I was nothing more than his bird in her gilded cage, I wanted him to know that I saw through his act, and I wasn’t going to let him get away with it.
But I also wanted to escape. To get out, go find Gavin, lose myself in dancing and loud, bass-thumping music and crowds of people where I could be anonymous. I was tired of fighting.
I didn’t want to play Stefan’s game any longer.
The escapist in me won out.
Wrenching myself out of his grip, I sidestepped him and turned back toward the door. But before I could even get my fingers around the door knob, he was blocking me. Standing there in front of the door like an immobile wall, arms crossed.
“Move,” I demanded.
But instead of being reasonable, he grabbed my arm again, his fingers digging into my biceps. Hard. I tried to pull away again, but he wouldn’t release me. Not this time. I thrashed against him, twisting my shoulders, but he spun me around and threw me against the door, his strong arms boxing me in.
My entire body was hot from his close proximity to me, his large figure overwhelming my small one. I could smell his cologne, that expensive spicy scent that he wore that had lingered on our sheets when we shared a bed. It still made my knees weak.
“You aren’t going out,” Stefan growled, his breath warm against my cheek. “You’re too irresponsible. In fact, after what you let happen at that club on Friday, I’m never letting you go out again. You should be thanking me for keeping you safe.”
For a moment, I was stunned silent. He’d gone there. There was no holding back now.
“How the hell do I know that you aren’t the one who roofied me in the first place?” I said, my tone bordering on a yell. “Because it wouldn’t surprise me.”
“I’m the one who fucking saved you,” he shouted back, breathing hard.
I clenched my jaw, staring him down. I didn’t know what to believe. Stefan had just admitted that he knew what happened on Friday night. Was Gavin right about everything? About Stefan drugging me? Which words of Stefan’s were true, and which were lies?
“Don’t peg yourself as the hero,” I said, my voice strained with anger. “You had me followed, by that huge guy all in black. You think I’m supposed to trust you? You obviously don’t trust me. Why else would you be keeping tabs on me like that?”
Even as I argued, even as I reminded myself that Stefan was dangerous and manipulative, my body reacted in a way that I couldn’t control. My skin was hot where he held onto me, my face felt flushed, and I had to press my legs together to combat the ache I felt there. It was an ache that never seemed to go away when he was near. An ache only he could satisfy. I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t.
“Don’t you get it? I had you followed because you matter,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “If anything happened to you…”
He shook his head, his eyes blazing with anger. I was just as angry, but beneath it was something else. Arousal. I was impossibly turned on being this close to him, feeling his fury, his passion, his concern. His body was so close that it took everything in me not to touch him.
His words echoed in my mind. I mattered to him. Deeply. That meant he cared.
It meant he felt something for me.
My heart pounded in my chest as I reached up a hand to touch his cheek, our eyes locking. He hadn’t finished his sentence, but I didn’t care. He’d said enough.
I pulled his face down toward me, closed my eyes, and kissed him, parting my lips just enough to invite him in deeper, moaning softly when his tongue found mine.
Stefan never hesitated, taking control of the kiss as if he had been waiting for it.
I knew this surrender would be my downfall, that this could destroy me, but I didn’t care. How could I when he kissed me the way he did? When we fit so perfectly together?
I opened wider, letting his tongue thrust deeper, letting myself freefall.
Being with Stefan like this, the rest of world—all of our problems, all of our fights, all of our disagreements—seemed to fade into nothingness. All I could focus on was him and the way his tongue fucked my mouth, the way my core was turning to liquid, hot and needy.
His hands tangled in my hair, his fingers tightening there, forcing my head back so he could trace his tongue down my throat. It had been so long since he had touched me this way, tasted me this way, and now I was greedy for more. Greedy for everything.
I gasped as he bit me, gently and then less gently, his tongue soothing each mark that he was surely leaving on the sensitive skin of my neck. He was marking me, claiming me, and I couldn’t get enough.
I arched against him, needing to feel more of him, needing his entire body to be pressed against mine. I wanted him to dominate me. To take me.
He pinned my arms to the wall above my head. I panted, gazing up at him hungrily.
“You’re mine,” he growled.
“Yes,” I could barely gasp as his entire body trapped me against the wall. He rolled his hips against mine, his cock pressing into me, and I moaned with need. I was wet and ready for him, and had been all night, even if my mind had tried to deny the truth.
He looked down at the way my breasts were squeezed together and let out a low groan.
“You wore this slutty little dress for me, didn’t you?” he asked, dragging his finger along the low neckline, making me shiver at his touch. “Tell me,” he ordered.
“I wore it for you,” I gasped, barely recognizing the sultry rasp of my own voice.
“This is all for me.” He slid his hand down, cupping my breast harshly. “Say it.”
“It’s all for you,” I confirmed, straining against my pinned wrists, wanting him to touch me more. Loving how rough he was being.
There was no one like him. No one else who knew what I wanted, who understood my desires the way that Stefan intuitively did.
He shoved the cap sleeves of my dress down, exposing my taut nipples, which were tingling against the cool air and begging to be touched. Tasted. Bitten. Lowering his head, Stefan did exactly that, swirling his hot, wet tongue over the hard crest of each nipple before dragging his teeth along them, making me cry out with sheer bliss.
His hand slid lower, down to my hip, before curving around to cup my ass, pulling me even harder against his cock. There were too many clothes between us. I couldn’t stand it.
“What are you wearing under this?” Stefan demanded, palming my ass.
I shook my head, wanting him to touch me, wanting him to fuck me.
I was so aroused by him that I could barely speak.
“Tell me,” he demanded.
“Nothing,” I gasped as his hand slid lower to the hem of my dress.
“You dirty little whore,” he murmured in my ear before whipping the fabric up and plunging his fingers inside me. “You’re so wet for me.”
“Yes,” I cried out, too-hot and desperate now. I was pinned against the wall, my expensive pink dress bunched at my hips, my breasts and everything below the waist completely exposed to Stefan. I wanted him to finger me hard, but his hand stayed still, making me squirm.
“Does my kitty cat like that?” he said, his voice low and dangerous as he pumped once, twice, then stopped.
“Mm hmm.” I was losing my mind. I needed more. “Please,” I begged, opening my legs wider. “More. I need it.”
His gaze pierced mine as he curled his fingers inside, just barely tapping my G-spot before pulling back. Heat flooded through me and I jerked against his hand, the touch too light, too teasing to provide any kind of relief. The smile he gave me was wicked. Dangerous.
“Again,” he ordered.
I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to beg.
“Please,” I moaned, thrusting against his hand. “Give it to me.”
I was too far gone to even pretend that I didn’t want it. He rewarded my shameless pleading by dipping his fingers deeper inside of me, his strokes fast and rough. I cried out as he fucked me with his hand, the sensation intense and perfect but still not enough.
“I want you,” I murmured. “I want all of you.”
I was gasping for air, my head thrashing back and forth against the wall as he used two, then three fingers, to tease me, slowing down on purpose just to drive me crazy.
“Please,” I cried out, panting. “I need you.”
“You need me?” He let go of my wrists finally and cupped my chin, forcing my face up toward him. “Tell me what you need me to do.”
“I need you to fuck me,” I practically sobbed, my hands squeezing his rock-hard biceps. “Please Stefan. Please fuck me.”
It was his breaking point. His hands dropped away from me as he went for his belt, his pants hitting the floor as he shrugged out of his shirt. Finally, his cock—his long, hard, perfect cock—was free. He took it in his hand, rubbing it against my clit. I gasped at the pressure.
“Is this what you want? Say it,” he demanded.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, please.”
“Beg for it like a good wife.”
“Fuck,” I panted, humiliated at my naked desire but desperate to have him inside me. “Please fuck me. I need your cock. I need you inside me, I need my husband inside me. Please. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”
With a roar he grabbed my knee and pinned my leg up against the wall, forcing my pussy wide open for him. Then he thrust inside me, so hard and deep that he stopped to let out a groan.
“Oh my god,” I moaned, clenching around him. My head fell back against the wallpaper.
He was so deep, so big, so hard. It was everything I wanted. I was nearly blind from the sensations crashing through me.
His hips pinned me to the wall and his hands pulled my legs up around his waist, my ankles locking behind his back. It gave him even deeper access, and he pressed his head into my shoulder and began thrusting into me. He was relentless, every stroke pushing a cry from my lips. There was nothing but his cock, the intense feeling of him splitting my pussy wide open. It felt like coming home, and I shivered as he glided back and forth, fitting so perfectly inside me.
His hips drummed against mine as he fucked me hard against the wall, my ears filled with our groans of pleasure and the rhythmic thumping of our bodies hitting the wall over and over and over again. I heard myself gasping, and I clung tightly to his shoulders, my eyes shut tight as I let the pleasure roll through me in waves, building and heightening with every stroke.
He took me hard and I begged for more, my hands clawing down his back, my nails digging into his shoulders as his cock slid in and out of me, punishing me, pleasuring me. He forced my thighs apart, opening me even wider to him, pounding even deeper.
How I’d managed without this for so long, I would never know, but there was no going back now. He had claimed me, utterly and completely. With his mouth, his hands, his cock.
I was his.
He thrust inside me over and over again, never slowing, pumping strong and steady as my orgasm built, curling tight and hot in my belly.
“Make me come,” I whispered, my fingers digging into his shoulders. “Stefan. Make me come.”
And he did. When it hit me, it felt as if the entire world was exploding around me.
I couldn’t stop myself from crying out as the pleasure slammed through me, the contractions of my pussy so fast and hard that it felt like an electric shock. Stefan pounded into me with a new fury, and I heard him say my name just before he found his own release, growling against the curve of my neck, the hot rush of his orgasm filling me up.
I closed my eyes, my jagged breathing in time with his, our hearts beating fast in our chests as we held onto each other.
It was everything I had ever wanted.
Tori
Chapter 13
“Come,” Stefan said, easing me back down to the floor and leading me toward our—no, his—bedroom. When we got there, he knelt, and I held onto his shoulders to steady myself as he slid off my tight, bunched-up dress, helping me step out of it. My legs were still weak, my body reeling with aftershocks. I watched him pull towels out of the closet, appreciating the taut muscles of his torso, the way his sweat-damp hair curled against his temples.
“You’re a mess,” I teased, knowing I probably looked just as unkempt, if not worse.
“Then we better get clean,” he said.
Without another word, he lifted me in his arms like I weighed nothing and carried me into the bathroom, setting me on the bench. Then he brought in the towels and turned the shower on, letting the water get hot and steamy before leading me in.
I tried not to stare as the water rolled down his body but it had been so long since I’d seen him naked and he was truly a gorgeous sight to behold. Broad, strong shoulders, a narrow waist and that tight, perfect ass. I was sore from the way he had fucked me against the wall, but still I wanted him again. Immediately.
Instead, I let him hold me tight under the water, breathing out a deep sigh as the heat and the steam relaxed my muscles. It almost seemed to wash away all the weeks of anger and frustration, leaving me calm and satisfied and happy to be naked and wet with my husband.
“Are you warm enough?” Stefan asked.
I nodded, touched by his concern.
I reached for the shampoo bottle, but he stopped me with a gentle touch on my arm.
“Let me,” he said, squeezing the shampoo into his own hands before rubbing them together to create a foamy lather. “Turn around.”
I did, and he slid his hands into my wet hair, massaging the suds into my scalp. I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation. It felt so good to be touched by him this way. He had never been this tender before.
I felt my heart swell. Things were going to be different now, I could tell. Though I hadn’t taken a real vacation or spent days away from home, my stepmother’s advice had been dead on all the same. The time apart had really seemed to draw me and Stefan closer.
This might even become a real marriage. Exactly the fairy tale I had fantasized about the first time I saw him across the ballroom at my birthday party.
“That feel good?” he asked, whispering in my ear as he continued to massage my scalp.
I barely managed to nod, my entire body tingling as I lost myself in the luxury of being taken care of. It was almost as good as sex. Almost.
He finished washing my hair and began to rinse it gently. But before he could start on the conditioner, I turned to face him. There was one thing I had to get off my chest.
“You really didn’t drug me?” I asked, searching
his eyes.
“I would never do that,” he confirmed. “I swear it.”
I paused, not wanting to pummel him with questions, but I had to know for sure.
“Then how did you get to me so quickly?”
He didn’t bat an eye. “I got in a car the second my guy sent pictures of that asshole getting handsy with you.”
“You were spying on me,” I said.
“To keep you safe,” he insisted. “I never would have come if you were okay. But you weren’t. And thank god I showed up when I did. Your little friend is lucky there’s no evidence pointing to him as the culprit.”
“Gavin?” I asked, my heart sinking. “You’re not saying you think it was him.”
Had I been trusting the wrong person all along?
“I don’t know who it was,” Stefan said, his voice laced with disgust. “If I was positive he did it, he’d be dead right now. But I still don’t trust that creep for a second. He was all over you.”
I sensed he was holding back, that there was more to his contempt for Gavin than he was telling me, but it had to be jealousy making him talk this way. Admittedly, part of me liked it. The alpha male coming out full force, Stefan wanting to protect me and keep me all to himself.
“Honestly, it seems like it was a random stranger at the bar. It’s not uncommon, though I fucking hate the fact. But that doesn’t mean you’ll be safe next time, kitty cat,” Stefan said.
Despite his warning tone, his use of my nickname made my heart soar.
“I’ll be more careful next time I go out,” I said, choosing my words carefully. The last thing I wanted was to agree to be locked up at home. I’d still have my freedom, still hang out with my friends—I wasn’t willing to let go of that. I’d just make better choices in the future.
Stefan cupped my face in his hands. “The thing is,” he said, “this world you’re involved in—our fathers’ world—my world—it’s dangerous. You have to let me take care of you.”
“Okay,” I said, liking the sound of it. But I hated the idea of being constantly spied on without my knowledge. “Are you having this guy follow me around all the time?” I asked.
