Bride

by Sara Fields

  She didn’t tell me she’d stopped buying it in the end because we couldn’t afford it. I didn’t find out until our landlord rushed her to the hospital. She hadn’t been testing her glucose levels. She hadn’t taken a dose of insulin in months and her kidneys started failing. By the time she made it to a doctor, it was already too late.

  She’d died just a week after that.

  Parker LLC was for people like my mom. The type of medication we were synthesizing would keep people alive because they’d be able to afford it. My company wouldn’t force them to choose between eating and staying alive. I was the only one who would make sure that mission came to life.

  Involving a man like Grayson Asher could ruin that. He was interested in the bottom line. He’d want to ensure the drug made a profit and a handsome one at that.

  In all likelihood, he’d cut me out as soon as I outlived my usefulness.

  “I don’t have a price. Parker LLC is my company and I aim to keep it that way. You could offer me the world and I wouldn’t take it,” I finally answered.

  His jaw tightened, not with anger, but with a smile of some sort.

  I didn’t want to meet his hard stare anymore, so I took a sip of my coffee instead. I was grateful for the break in eye contact, honestly. Just being in his presence felt intense and I needed a second away from it.

  I glanced back at him, only to notice that his smile had grown that much wider. I didn’t know what to make of that and somewhere deep inside me, a balloon of anxiety blossomed to life.

  Slowly, he pushed his hands against the desk and rose to his feet. He rounded his desk with intention, steadily moving but not rushing until he stood behind my chair. Nervously, I pressed my thighs together, trying to decide whether I should run or not and debating exactly how I far I could get. My heart pounded in my chest and the coffee mug shook a bit in my hands, so I put it down before he could see how much of an effect that he was having simply by standing next to me.

  I sat back and decided to be brave.

  “You are everything that I hoped you’d be, Dr. Zoe Parker,” he murmured, and I stiffened. For a moment, I sat there speechless, trying to figure out the meaning behind his words. He caught me off guard when his fingers grazed along the expanse of my shoulder. I jerked away, but he pressed against me more insistently. His touch was gentle, but I hated the way it felt like it was setting fire to my skin.

  “Take your hands off me,” I gasped.

  He didn’t. His palm cupped the back of my head and when I moved to lean away, his fingers dug roughly into my hair. I squeaked in surprise as a fierce stinging pain radiated across the back of my head, but it didn’t stop there. He forced me to stand, never letting up, and twisted me around so that I faced him. He pulled my hair so effectively that it was if he had a handle on my body. I tried pulling away and that only made it hurt more.

  “What are you doing? Stop this instant!” I shrieked.

  He silenced my screams by covering my mouth with his. He kissed me deeply, possessively, and for a second I forgot myself and started to kiss him back. His lips were like a dark obsession, and I lost myself in them, but then his free hand started to linger down the cusp of my shoulder, down the line of my back until he cupped my ass and squeezed it hard enough to hurt.

  I remembered myself then. With both hands, I shoved against his chest. I used every ounce of strength that I had to do it, effectively breaking the two of us apart. My lips throbbed. He’d kissed me hard. I wondered if he’d bruised them and even though I wanted to reach up and touch them to see if they were swollen, I didn’t.

  Instead, I slapped him so hard that the sound echoed fiercely throughout the room.

  His hand released my hair and those dark brown eyes bored into mine. To his credit, he didn’t reach up to soothe his cheek even though it was beginning to turn pink. For a moment, we just stared at each other as I tried to grapple with what had just happened between us.

  He’d crossed a line. Maybe there was a reason Grayson Asher was single all this time. Maybe he’d tried to take more than his fair share. Maybe he’d paid the right amount of money to the right people to keep his reputation a secret.

  I wasn’t going to stay and find out. This meeting was over.

  “I reject your proposition, Mr. Asher,” I spat, and I turned to storm out of the room. I made it almost to the end of the hallway before his hand closed around my upper arm. His fingers held me firmly, digging in just enough to ache a bit but so hard that it would bruise.

  He pulled me back into his office that way and I fought him with every step.

  “Let me go. You have no right,” I demanded.

  He simply chuckled.

  “Listen, asshole. I said no. I’m not going to sell my company to you no matter how much money you throw at me. I don’t have to stay to find out what more you want either,” I snarled.

  He dragged me toward his desk. I didn’t go quietly. I dug my heels into the carpet, using the power in my legs that I’d developed through years of spin classes, at-home workouts, and running at the gym. I was strong, but he pulled me along like I was nothing more than a bag of rice.

  I tried to twist away. I tried to kick him so that he’d let me go. I tried to push at him in hope he’d release my upper arm, but none of it worked. Right then, it was as if he had the strength of the Hulk. Nothing I could do would be able to fight against that. I knew that, but I still didn’t make it easy on him.

  He pulled me all the way over to his desk. With surprising swiftness that I wasn’t prepared for, he pushed me face down over it, and just when I slapped my hands against the surface in an effort to stand back up, his hand flattened across the middle of my back.

  He kicked my legs open. He used his foot to spread them wider.

  “You bastard. You won’t get away with this,” I spat. “You can’t force yourself on someone just because you have money.”

  He still didn’t answer. He ran his fingers along the curves of my hip until he grazed the lower part of my bottom cheek. I was grateful that it was still covered by my skirt.

  “Stop it, you bastard. I’ll have your balls for this,” I screamed. “Goddamn motherfucker. Is this the only way you can get a woman? By forcing yourself on her?”

  His fingers continued to explore my backside, just skimming back and forth like he owned it.

  “I’ll sue you for every single cent that you’re worth, asshole. Let me go and I’ll just forget that this whole thing ever happened,” I growled.

  He just kept surveying my body with that sure and steady hand. I continued to call him every name in the book. I threatened him. I did everything I could think of to warn him off, but his touch never wavered. Not even once.

  With intention, his hand dipped beneath my skirt. He didn’t pull it up. Not yet. Instead, his fingers just slipped underneath and slid along the flesh of my bottom until they crept close enough to touch the cusp of my thighs.

  “Stop! What are you doing?” I cried out.

  He continued to ignore me, and I stiffened as three of his fingers pressed against the gusset of my panties. The only thing that was separating my bare skin from his touch was a thin piece of lacey fabric that felt so sheer, it was as if it almost wasn’t there.

  Without my consent, my clit pulsed wildly with arousal.

  A rather pitiful sound of shock and needy desire escaped my lips and I clamped them shut. I pressed my forehead against the desk in shame. There was no way he wouldn’t have heard that and nothing I could do would take it back.

  His fingers lingered, teasing me delicately through the thin cloth. With everything in me, I forced myself to keep still, but every stroke was awakening something deep in me and I was doing my best to ignore that impulse.

  I didn’t want to want him.

  I refused to think anything more about it, but as his fingers continued to tease me, it became more and more difficult. My legs shook just the tiniest bit and then he slid his hand far enough away to slip his fingertips
beneath the lacey hem of my panties. I stiffened and tried to press my thighs back together, thinking I might block him from touching my pussy directly.

  With cruel intention, he grasped my panties and tore them clean off.

  Chapter 2

  I wasn’t ready for that.

  For a moment, silence reigned and then the terrible agony between my thighs bloomed. The lacey fabric gripped at my tender folds, pinching and scraping them as he tore the panties away. The hardest part was when the cloth punished my clit, already so sensitive from his rough touch.

  My knees knocked together as I struggled to take it. I shrieked noisily, and he chuckled softly behind me, the effect of his laughter intensifying my anxiety that much more.

  “My my, Zoe. With that mouth, you would think I was killing you,” he began. I opened my lips to give him a piece of my mind, but he shoved my panties right in my mouth. “You protest, sweet girl, but there was a wet spot on your panties for me. Surely you can taste your own arousal on your tongue.”

  I went to spit them out, but he was ready for that. Swiftly, he wound his tie around my head, securing the makeshift gag inside my mouth as he knotted it behind my head. I struggled on the desk, screaming into the fabric, and that’s when I realized that he was right. There was a musky sweet flavor seeping across my mouth. I swallowed hard, realizing that it could be only one thing.

  He kicked my feet apart again, making me spread my thighs. Despite the fact that he’d torn my panties clean off, my skirt was still in place. I pressed my palms flat against the desk and closed my eyes, forced to face the fact that my panties were wet, my pussy had been wet—was still wet—and I could feel all of it. I could feel my arousal beginning to drip down my legs, and for the first time I was grateful that he couldn’t see my face.

  I shouldn’t be reacting like this. I shouldn’t be aroused by this.

  I shouldn’t be thinking about what it would feel like to have his cock deep inside me instead. I didn’t recognize myself.

  I stilled. I stopped fighting. Instead, I just lay against the desk and tried to come to terms with the fact that there was a very dark part of me that I’d never known existed before.

  “I want you to listen to what I’m about to say, Zoe,” he began, and I couldn’t ignore the way my clit throbbed with need at the possessiveness in his tone.

  His palm cupped my bottom, squeezing it tight enough to hurt just the slightest bit.

  “I’m going to spank you and then I’m going to fuck you. It’s not a punishment for slapping me or even for all the insults you hurled my way. It isn’t for any of that because you didn’t know any better when you did it. You’re going to get a spanking because you need to understand your place going forward, as my property and my bride,” he continued. “If you’re a very good girl, I might even allow you to enjoy it.”

  What? His bride?

  He couldn’t be serious. This had to be a joke. Some cruel deranged joke for some sick reality show. This couldn’t be real.

  His hand gathered the fabric of my skirt, slowly pulling it up. I was too shellshocked to move and I hated myself for it. I wanted to throw him off. Something. Anything, but I did nothing.

  Instead, I just felt the thick cloth of my skirt rising, baring the backs of my thighs inch by inch until he reached the lower curve of my backside. He didn’t stop there either. He kept pulling it up until the entirety of my bottom was bare.

  He’d be able to see everything.

  He carefully gathered the fabric and pinned it beneath the hand that was holding me against the desk. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t react.

  Was I weak?

  Why couldn’t I do anything?

  “Just as beautiful as I imagined you’d be, my sweet bride,” he murmured.

  There it was again. Bride. Why did he keep calling me that and why did it keep making my core tighten with desire?

  He was looking at me. I could feel it. He was looking at the backs of my legs, at the wetness dripping down my thighs, at the folds of my pussy and everything else. I turned my head and gasped into the panties in my mouth. It came out sounding more like a moan than anything else and my mortification deepened.

  Something was wrong with me. Seriously wrong.

  Maybe I should be committed.

  His fingers touched my left cheek, sliding along the lower curve until they just grazed my inner thighs. His fingertips slid along them, and I realized that my fears were true. My wetness had dripped onto my legs, and he’d just found the evidence of it.

  For the first time, I was grateful for the panties in my mouth because it meant that I didn’t have to say anything at all.

  His hand explored more until it slid right in between my wet folds. I cried out as he discovered just how wet I was for him. His silence was the worst part. I don’t know why I suddenly cared what he thought of me. Would he think I was broken? Would he think I was sick?

  My legs trembled. Two fingertips found my clit and circled it gently. Once, then twice, and my heart went wild in my chest as electric tendrils of pleasure raced up and down my limbs.

  I wasn’t supposed to like this. I shouldn’t.

  His evil fingers continued to play my body, strumming against my clit, and for the first time my hips rocked against him. I hadn’t meant to. I hadn’t wanted to either, but I could quickly feel myself losing control of my body and I didn’t quite know how to get it back.

  A single digit slipped over my entrance. I gasped and he slid it all the way inside me. My pussy clenched around him, again and again in shock and desire. He pumped it in and out of me before he pulled it out and drew his hand away.

  It returned a second later, only his wet finger was pressed against my bottom hole.

  I stiffened. I wanted to tell him to stop. I tried to reach back to push his hands away, but that only resulted in him capturing my wrists behind my back.

  Much to my dismay, he returned his attentions to my bottom hole.

  I clenched the muscles of my bottom, but his finger was wet, and he was stronger than me. That single finger breached my tight hole, and I was taken aback by the pain that followed.

  No one had ever touched me there before. I hadn’t even touched myself like this before.

  I wasn’t prepared for the burning, stretching sensation or the way that pain hurtled up and down my spine before settling deep in my core. For several long moments, I struggled to draw in air and think of anything other than his finger in my bottom, but then the stinging hurt began to recede and something else followed.

  Blazing hot arousal simmered through every inch of my body and there was no containing it.

  He pushed his finger in deeper, past the first knuckle, and I felt every last inch of it. When I tightened around him, the pain worsened for several moments until I forced myself to relax again. Roughly, he pumped that digit in and out of my bottom.

  Shamefully, I lifted my hips to meet his sordid thrusts.

  Fuck. Why did that feel so good?

  I’d had sex before. Plain old boring sex, but I’d never wanted to come from penetration, and this was only his finger inside of me. The only way I’d ever had an orgasm was with my trusty little bullet vibrator between my legs. I’d faked all the others.

  I had a feeling that I’d never have to fake anything with Grayson Asher.

  “One day, I’m going to fuck this pretty little bottom hole simply because I can,” he murmured, and a jolt of electricity sizzled right to my clit. My pussy clenched tight and so did my bottom, eliciting a delighted and rather malicious sounding chuckle from his lips. He leaned over me and brushed his lips against my ear. “Do you want to know something, my sweet?”

  I cried out into the fabric of my panties.

  “I’ve been watching your little pussy this whole time. You became much, much wetter when I touched this little virgin bottom hole for the very first time,” he purred.

  How did he know no one had ever touched me there? I wanted to hide. I wanted a black hole t
o open up and swallow me whole. I shouldn’t get wetter. Him touching me there felt dirty and so filthy that it had to be wrong.

  Then why was it turning me on?

  He slipped his finger from my bottom, leaving me to grapple with the terrifying realization that getting fingered in my ass had made me aroused enough to want more. I knew what a cock in my pussy felt like, but what would it feel like in my bottom hole? Would I like it? Would it hurt just as much as his finger had?

  “Your bottom is gorgeous, Zoe. It’s going to be even more beautiful when I spank it bright red and then mark it with my belt,” he mused.

  I’d gotten so caught up in the feeling of his finger violating my bottom hole that I’d forgotten all about his initial threat. I squirmed a bit against the desk and his grip around my wrists tightened, holding me in place.

  His other hand returned to my backside, cupping my right bottom cheek.

  “I’m going to enjoy this very much, Zoe. It is my firm belief that a wife needs to be reminded of her place with a bright red bottom from time to time, and I’m looking forward to doing exactly that, both over my desk and over my knee, many, many times to come,” he growled, and I whimpered into my panties, tasting my own arousal once again.

  I tried to lift myself up and his hand slapped against my ass for the first time.

  It didn’t hurt. Not at first. In fact, the most jarring thing was how loud it was. It was loud enough to rival a gunshot, or at least that’s what it felt like, and before I knew it another followed on the other side.

  He paused and traced over the area he’d smacked.

  “Watching the very first shades of pink blossom on your bottom for the first time is something I’m going to cherish for a very long time, bride,” he observed, and I tried to press my thighs together to hide just how much his words continued to arouse me. He didn’t allow it.

  A third spank cracked against my bottom and that’s when it started to hurt. He started spanking me more quickly now. His palm was broad, and with every smack the sting started to build. At first, it was simply warm, punctuated by hard cracks of his hand against my skin. As the spanking went on, though, that warmth built, becoming hotter until it truly began to burn.