by Sara Fields
“There’s only ever been you, Zoe.”
He sat back and his entire body exuded calm confidence. He stared at me like I was the only woman in the world. His eyes made me feel like beautiful perfection even though I knew about the stretch marks on the sides of my hips and the scars on my knees from when I’d fallen off my bike as a kid. He looked at me like he saw only beauty, like he didn’t see even a single one of my imperfections and that was so utterly captivating that I couldn’t bring myself to run away. I should want to escape. I should yell for help, but I wouldn’t because I didn’t want to.
To hell with what the world expected. I kind of wanted to know what would come next.
“Eat, Zoe. I want to see you finish your meal,” he said expectantly, and I nodded as I reached for another bite. I ate my fill, delighting with every flavorful taste that spread across my tongue from the luxurious meal that had been prepared for the two of us. I cleared much of my plate, enjoying a liberal gulp of wine occasionally too. By the time I finished, I felt full and rather spoiled. I put down my utensils and took another small sip of water, only to catch him watching me with keen interest.
“What is it?”
“You’re so very beautiful when you’re enjoying yourself.”
I felt myself flush with heat from the compliment, feeling the tension of such a serious subject finally ebb away.
“I particularly like it when you blush and smile for me, pretty girl,” he purred. “Come, walk with me through the gardens. I’ve arranged for us to have dessert later tonight. I imagine that you might be hungry after I’m through with you,” he added.
My pussy clenched hard.
He pushed the chair back and rounded the table. This time, I wasn’t nervous to take his hand. I took it because I wanted to. Once I was standing, I wrapped my arm around his and walked with him, side by side.
As husband and wife.
We walked for a time in silence, just enjoying each other’s company along the way. Occasionally, he would point out a rare type of flower. We would stop and I would take a moment to sample the aroma of each one, delighting in the different scents in his garden. The whole rooftop was beautifully planned and planted. A garden of this magnitude probably took a fair number of people to keep it in pristine condition, but money was simply an object for him. There was nothing that was too expensive for him. His power bought him a fair number of things, but it was his wallet that paid for whatever else he wanted whenever he wanted. I wasn’t certain whether that was a good thing yet or not.
The sun had long set, and the sparkling lights of the stars and a full moon overhead lit our path. All around us, the buildings began to come to life, lights illuminating the multitudes of windows surrounding us. Down below, streetlamps turned on, brightening and chasing away the shadows of the evening. I stopped at one point, just enamored with the beauty of nightfall while Grayson stood by me.
When I snuck a peek at him, he looked almost regal, and I couldn’t help catching myself mesmerized by the sight. He radiated power, influence, and money with the way he held himself, shoulders pulled back, deliberate intention and everything I could ever imagine in a man. He was part beast, part mystery, and now maybe in a sense, he was mine too.
Maybe this wasn’t a nightmare. Maybe it was supposed to happen this way.
“Grayson?” I asked quietly.
“What is it, sweet girl?”
“I’m going to want to finish my work,” I started, suddenly worried that he’d want to control me completely now that I had walked down the aisle for him.
“I know,” he answered. “I’m not here to limit your success. If anything, I want to help you achieve everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”
“So, you don’t plan on turning me into a perfect obedient little housewife,” I scoffed, and he laughed out loud as if I’d said the most ridiculous thing in the world.
“Definitely not. I rather like my limbs where they are, my feisty bride,” he replied, and I relaxed against him. “Although I do expect your obedience when it comes to certain things,” he added suggestively, and I wiggled seductively against him as he pulled me close to his chest. My bottom pressed against his hips, and I smirked the tiniest bit when I felt the iron hard spike of his cock against me.
“Good. I would have hated having to bite your cock off,” I threatened lightly, and he chuckled behind me.
“Bad girl,” he purred, but there was no real admonishment in his tone. He kissed the side of my neck and I leaned into him.
“I like it when you’re feisty with me,” he whispered.
I shivered beside him, feeling the caress of his words flitter across my sensitive skin as though it were a warm breeze. I was starting to feel comfortable. He didn’t seem like he was out to control me or hurt me, at least outside of the bedroom.
I was certain that he wanted to possess my body though, and with a single touch of his finger down the side of my neck, I knew that I would relent. He kissed that same spot so sweetly that it caused a delicious shiver of desire to cascade down my spine, and at the same time he squeezed my breast roughly enough to make me pussy tighten with blatant incredible need.
“I’m your girl now?” I questioned tentatively, a bit insecure in my admission.
“Yes. My girl,” he growled firmly, and his hands gripped at me harder. With steady swiftness, he spun me around and forced me to look at him. “Now, my pretty bride, it is time for me to claim what is mine.”
A haze of anxiety crashed over me. It was our wedding night, and he would have certain expectations of what that meant. I wanted it, but at the same time, I didn’t. I was so very conflicted.
He didn’t really give me much time to protest as he pulled me back toward the entrance to the gardens. I took each step along with him, playing the part of a willing captive and a trapped bride because I didn’t know what else I could do.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure at this point what I wanted. Did I want to go along with him? Did I want to escape and take back my freedom?
I didn’t really know.
The picturesque colors of the flowers around me grew hazy as I lost myself in conflict. He opened the door and I entered along with him, walking carefully through the hallways as my heels clicked along the hard wood. The punctuated sounds drummed almost as loudly as my heart, and I couldn’t seem to slow the way my breath flew in and out of my lungs. His grip on my arm was steady and strong and I found myself wondering if I could even break it if I tried.
When we approached the master suite, he paused and picked me up as though I weighed nothing at all. It was sexy and terrifying all at once.
“Carrying me across the threshold,” I quipped nervously, and he laughed, his mood light.
“I’m a traditional kind of man,” he replied.
“Sure,” I answered, disbelieving, and he lifted me up high enough to nibble my neck.
“I have traditional moments,” he corrected, and I laughed anxiously.
The light moment was enough to relieve my nervousness and quiet the panicked beat of my heart, at least for a little while. I allowed myself to relish his strong arms around me, a strong, firm embrace that held me as though I were weightless. His scent swirled around me, masculine and perfect and I hesitantly pressed my cheek against his chest. The constant drum of his heartbeat against my ear was just as robust as mine, but it was soothing in a way that calmed my soul.
As we crossed the threshold into his bedroom, I found myself staring at his bed, wondering how he would take me. Would he force me down on my back? Would he rather take me from behind?
Would I like it? Would he?
I’d been going along with most of today without much of a fight because I hadn’t seen any way out. There had been no easy escape and now everything came down on me with the rushing danger of an oncoming storm. When he placed me down on the floor, I sucked in a harsh breath.
I shouldn’t be doing this. I was a businesswoman. It wasn’t a part of my plan to become a wife, e
specially Grayson Asher’s.
I needed to fight back. If anyone found out that I’d gone to his bed as a willing participant in this forced marriage, they’d look at me like I was insane. I was a proud woman and I grasped at those instincts, pulling at them like frayed ends of a rope until I held the entire thing in my hand. With a sigh, I closed my eyes and committed myself to fighting back.
He reached for the back of my dress, and I jerked away the moment his fingers brushed against my bare skin. I took a step forward and spun around, holding my head high enough to make him raise an eyebrow.
“Don’t touch me,” I snarled, and his gaze darkened considerably. I wobbled on my feet, questioning myself for a second before I returned his ire. He took a step toward me, and I took another backwards, until a wall pressed at my back. He surrounded me with his massive, muscular frame and my palms flattened against the painted drywall as though it would offer some sort of protection even though I knew it wouldn’t.
“I can do whatever I want with you, my pretty bride,” he purred as his arms slid around my waist. He jerked me to him and spun me around, quickly pressing me against the wall. The coolness of it on my cheek caused me to pause before he grasped the back of my dress roughly. I tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go.
“What are you doing?” I asked in a slight panic.
“I want to see what’s mine,” he replied expectantly, and I heard the seams of my wedding dress pop as he slowly and deliberately began to tear them apart. The buttons flew off one by one, clicking as they bounced against the floor. I looked down, seeing the tiny silk-wrapped things roll along the carpet as though they were a broken strand of pearls.
I gasped as he ripped the back of my dress, slowly baring the gentle curve of my spine until it was fully laid open. I wrapped my arms around my chest protectively, hoping to delay the inevitable, but he tore at the seams as though they were made of paper. Each layer of tulle floated to the floor like a cloud.
With every ripping sound, I was reminded of his power, of his cruel intention and I found myself nervously awaiting the final outcome. He forcibly pushed the straps of the dress down my shoulders, and I clamped my arms around myself even tighter, but he was stronger than that. One by one, he tore the straps clean off and he pushed the dress down around my hips until the weight of it fell to the floor.
I stood there in the corseted top, a pair of underwear, and a garter that had been put on me before I’d been able to prevent it.
Slowly, he unclasped the top and tossed that aside. I did my best to cover my breasts, electing to protect my nipples as much as I could. As I stood there in my panties and garter, I wavered in what I wanted. I knew that I shouldn’t want this, but it was quickly becoming harder to ignore the persistent pulse of desire inside me, the needy twisting feeling deep in my core. A feeling that I knew, without a doubt, he was putting there.
I should fight this every step of the way, but he was strong. I knew that he could overpower me easily if he wanted to. He’d already done it several times today and I realized I was only left with a few options.
I could fight him, and he could force himself on me every step of the way. There was no way that wouldn’t hurt a whole lot. I didn’t want to be taken against my will, but I wasn’t totally unwilling. In the end, there was a part of me that wanted him too. He’d had me on the edge all day and I couldn’t deny the evidence between my thighs, even right now. The gusset of my panties was soaked through. I knew it and he’d find out soon enough too.
If I went willingly to his bed, there was a possibility that he might be gentle, but I wasn’t sure what that might mean. Would he make love to me? Would I enjoy it?
But… if I did that, maybe he wouldn’t be rough with me. Maybe I didn’t want gentle after all. Maybe I kind of wanted some of both.
I’d always been the kind of woman who went after what she wanted and for the moment, I wanted Grayson Asher.
Trying to summon any courage I had left, I let go of my chest and lowered my hands to my sides. My mouth was dry, and my breath was coming out in heated, quick pants and I couldn’t keep it under control. I was so nervous that I didn’t know what to do or say, so I blurted out the first thing to come to mind.
“Please. Be gentle with me.” I don’t know why I said that. It wasn’t really what I wanted. I craved the firmness of his fingers along my skin, clutching roughly at my body while he gave me the long hard fucking I truly needed.
He caged me in against the wall and I did my best to arch myself just so that his body scarcely touched mine. My nipples had already tightened into hard little peaks though, and they brushed against his chest.
His fingers brushed at my throat, circling around it and dragging down. He just glided over the tender skin between my breasts, continuing further until he just grazed against the lacey hem of my creamy white bridal panties. Slowly, he dragged his fingertips back and forth and I tried to study his face, but he was so focused that my stomach clenched nervously at what he had planned.
“You want me to be gentle with you?” he asked carefully, and I don’t know why, but there was a dangerous edge to his voice that made me even more nervous than before. Was he trying to trick me into something? Did he want that too?
“Please,” I squeaked quietly, sounding like a church mouse rather than a proud woman.
His fingers slipped under the hem of my underwear, and I gasped aloud. Would he touch me now? Would he finally make me come?
I should have known better.
In a flash, he grasped at my panties and pulled them so hard they wedged between my soaked folds. He didn’t pause when I cried out as he tore them from my body. I yelped in surprise, immediately drowning in sheer agony as the cloth bit at my pussy, pinching it hard enough to almost make me scream. A flood of pain blossomed across my tender flesh, and I quivered on shaky legs. I probably would have fallen if not for the way he pushed his leg in between mine to support me.
“You don’t want me to be gentle with you and you know it,” he countered, and my thighs trembled as my pussy continued to burn. As the seconds passed, the initial sting began to fade, and I was left with an aching soreness between my legs that refused to quell. My clit throbbed hard, and it was then I noticed that the full length of his cock was pressed against my clit. I was almost disappointed that the barrier of his slacks kept it from truly touching me.
I hated that he was right and that made me mad. I loathed that I wanted him to push me up against the wall and force himself inside me. I hated that I wanted to feel every thick long inch mastering my body in a way no man had ever done before. It made me so angry to want those things because I shouldn’t want them.
Good girls didn’t want that.
I didn’t understand why I wanted him to hurt me. I couldn’t fathom why my body continued to betray the soundness of my mind and react with visceral arousal, needing him and wanting him in a way so taboo that it should be forbidden.
“You want it to hurt,” he pressed. “The thought of me taking you hard enough leave you sore long after I’m through with you makes you soaking wet, my pretty bride.”
I almost reached up and slapped him, but I held back. I gritted my teeth, wanting to deny that everything he was saying was the truth, needing to deny it because of my pride.
“You can hurt me if you want, but no matter what you do to me I will never truly be yours,” I spat, and his smirk widened precipitously. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes that reminded me of the criminal nature of some of his endeavors and a very real jolt of fear poured over me. I stiffened before him, trying to quell that terrified feeling and stoke the brazen way I was pushing back at him.
He reached for me, cupping my face with that broad palm of his and dragging his thumb across my cheekbone with a possessiveness that made me suck in a breath in an aroused panic. I glared at him, and he smiled broadly.
“You’re already mine. You always have been,” he said darkly, and he leaned in closer, brushing his
lips against my ear and nipping my earlobe just hard enough to set the rest of my body on fire. “But you’re right. This is going to hurt.”
There was no time to fight back as his arm circled around my waist and lifted me cleanly off the floor. He strode to the bed and before I had the foresight to try to kick or struggle out of his arms, he’d already sat down and deposited me over his knee.
Completely naked, I couldn’t hide the bareness of my ass or my naked pussy and he knew it. As if he wanted to hammer the message home, he slid his fingers in between my thighs. I closed my eyes, knowing that he’d finally discovered just how soaking wet I was for him.
He found my clit and circled it gently. He’d kept me on edge for so many hours and I’d fought him through all of it, but now that I was naked over his knee with his fingers teasing me where I needed him the most, every bit of that fight scattered just like dust on the wind.
He teased me there for several minutes, forcing my desire forward once again. I tried to keep quiet, but it was a losing battle. Before long, I was gasping aloud, each breath sounding less like a cry of disquiet and more like a moan of very clear and obvious desire. Just when I was on the cusp of orgasm, he pulled his hand away and I cried out as the painful slice of denial tore through me with vicious ruthlessness once again.
“Please,” I pleaded, and I nearly bit through my lower lip with shame in my inability to keep myself quiet. I didn’t want to beg.
His palm cracked down hard on the right side of my ass and I jolted hard as his other arm wrapped around my waist. Held firmly in place, I was in no position to fight my way off of him and when I kicked my legs in an effort to try, he tipped me forward and trapped one of mine beneath his. This new position spread my legs rather obscenely, and I was mortified once I realized that my wetness was on complete display.
“I want this gorgeous ass bright pink before I fuck your tight little pussy, my feisty bride,” he exclaimed purposefully and with vicious intent, he smacked my left cheek.
“Let me go!”
“No,” he answered, and his palm squeezed my ass hard enough to make me cry out.
