Page 36 of Seduction (Wicked Vows)

“Oh my God,” she chokes out in a rush of words. “Of—of course, husband,” she says mockingly. “I hear you.”

I slap her panty-clad backside with my hand, and she squeals. A red mark instantly blooms across her butt. Christ, it’s beautiful. I lift my belt this time and slap her ass again, not too hard but not lightly. She shoots up onto her toes, clenching the duvet in her fists. Her entire face is red, the heat creeping down her neck, yet she doesn’t move. I take a moment to caress her heated ass with my palm. My dick twitches. Fuck.

“Good girl. You took that so well, wife. I’m so proud of you. Look what a strong, good woman you are.” I bend down and place the gentlest of kisses on one cheek, then the other, before I stand. “One more, and then you get to go to bed with a sore ass. A reminder of what I expect from you in the morning.”

I give her another light lick of my belt, just enough to make my point, and drop the belt. I’d bet good money she could take way, way more than what I gave her, likely even craves it, but I want to leave her wanting.

I stare at her and can’t help but imagine what it would be like to take her. To be inside her. To feel her hot, tight body around me.

I want to see her back arch when she comes. . .

I rub her sore ass with my palm.

“Good girl. You took that so well. Have you learned your lesson, Vera?”

She nods her head. “I have.”

Fuck. My dick presses against my pants so tightly it’s painful.

“Good girl. Now tell me. How do you feel after your spanking?”

She pauses, inhaling sharply, her breath ragged. Hiding her face in the covers, she doesn’t look at me but mumbles her words through the fabric. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Jesus.

Even though I expected this, hearing her actually admit it confirms everything I suspected. It’s killing me not to pin her hands to this headboard and show her exactly how a dominant male claims a woman.

Gently, I gather her hair and expose the curve of her neck. I brush it over to one shoulder and press a kiss against her bare skin, whispering into her ear. “If I were to touch you right now, would I find you wet, Vera?” My need to possess her intensifies with every breath she takes.

“Is there a submissive lurking within you, Vera? Do you ever dream of being one of the heroines from those novels you devour? To be completely overtaken?” I draw out each word, my voice a husky whisper. “Imagine surrendering control to a dominant. It’s a choice, Vera. Embrace it. Many crave this surrender.”

“I’m. . . yes, I’m curious.”

Christ.

“Spread your legs,” I rasp out.

Without a word, she complies, squeezing her eyes shut, perhaps to deny the reality of her own desires. Yet, I’ve learned enough about her to know that Vera’s solitude doesn’t mask her fiery spirit. A woman of her passion deserves a counterpart who worships her ferocity.

Leaning over, I prop myself on one arm and breathe in her scent—spring flowers blended with the crispness of autumn rain. Her pulse throbs under my lips; her sharp gasp fills the silence.

“Tell me exactly how you feel right now.”

“So, so turned on, Markov. Damn you,” she breathes out in a choked whisper.

I cup her ass, and she gasps. “I just disciplined you for such language, Vera. Was my message not clear?”

She whimpers softly. “You made your point.” Her voice is laced with feigned protest and genuine desire.

“Get on your back,” I command. The raw urgency to taste her is overwhelming, yet I restrain myself, remembering her innocence. My hands, however, can’t resist exploring the fullness of her breasts.

“Touch yourself,” I murmur. “Let me see.”

Clumsily, she pulls her panties to the side and reaches down to her slick folds just as I release one of her breasts from her bra and lick the peaked nub. Her body jerks, a cry escaping her lips.

Mine.

“You’re my wife, Vera,” I whisper, caught up in the moment’s authenticity. For a second, I forget our pretense, lost in the primal need to claim her.

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