Page 23 of Daddy's Mad Love

The sound of my bride’s desire spurred me to move faster, pulling at the buttons and leaving them hanging by threads as I stripped her out of the dress. The corselette, bloomers, and silky teddy beneath would have to go as well. If I couldn’t have her in her wedding gown, I didn’t want her in anything at all.

My pulse pounded in my ears, my cock hard as a rock while my hands roamed freely over her, but I didn’t want her from behind like this. I wanted to see her. I wanted her to see me.

When the last piece of clothing dropped to the floor, I spun her around to face me. She tried to cover herself, arms crossing over her breasts, hands pressed to the curls over her mound. That wouldn’t do at all.

I pulled her to me again, kissing her and pushing her into a sitting position on the bed, forcing myself between her knees. I could feel her muscles quivering as she tried to close her thighs. Deepening the kiss, I tweaked one of her pert nipples to distract her. She gasped, and my cock jerked, but she still tried to squirm away.

She ended up falling back onto the bed with me atop her. Our lips parted, still pressed together, managing to escape a clashing of our teeth but nothing else. She moaned into my mouth, and I growled into hers, our connection muffling the sounds. The silky skin of her body pressed against mine from breasts to groin, her softness cushioning me.

I ached to thrust inside her, but I knew she wasn’t ready yet.

She was still fighting me, and while that could be fun in the future, it wasn’t what I wanted for our wedding night.

Tonight, I wanted her to beg for it.

Lowering my mouth to her neck, I pressed a hot, open-mouth kiss against her satiny skin.

Hailey

Unwanted heat flushed through me, my body betraying me, just as it had before. I’d never had a man’s weight pressing down on me, his arms encasing me, holding me beneath him. Trapped. Helpless. Needy.

There was no alcohol to blame tonight. Though champagne had been available, I hadn’t drunk a drop. No, the throbbing ache swelling between my thighs was mine and mine alone. I whimpered as Giacomo’s hands slid up my sides to cup my breasts. My nipples, the one he’d pinched still tingling, were so tightly budded, they felt as if they were throbbing, begging to be touched.

I felt his hardness move between my thighs, pressing against my slick folds but not entering me… not yet. I was still a virgin, the marriage still unconsummated, but I had no doubt both of those things would cease to be true in the next few minutes.

“Bella,” he murmured, his lips nuzzling over my collarbone, heading for my breasts, which were feeling heavier by the second as he stroked and plumped them. The air between us was alive with electricity, sizzling along my nerves and pulsing through my veins.

When his lips reached my nipple, I made an inarticulate sound in my throat as the hot, wet heat closed around the sensitive bud—not a protest, but not a plea, either. I was caught somewhere between heaven and hell, with the devil himself seducing me further into temptation.

My resistance was melting away, my defenses crumbling under the sensual assault on my senses. I had never been touched like this, never felt like this before. Touching myself had never been like this. When he’d touched me at the precinct, it had been intimate and overwhelming but not a full-body experience.

Now, he had full access to every inch of me, and before I could process one touch, one kiss, he was already moving on to the next, leaving me no time to find my footing. I gasped, moaning and arching beneath him, writhing as sensations cascaded through me, sweeping away my coherence.

My pulse throbbed through me, my nipple aching as he sucked and laved his tongue over the sensitive bud before moving to the other. My fingers clutched his hair, not trying to pull his head away or trying to hold him closer, just hanging on for dear life, devastated by my body’s reactions to his erotic mastery.

Something bumped against the wet lips of my womanhood, and I whimpered, hips pushing upward, trying to meet him.

“Tell me you want me.”

The order was rough, his voice harsh, and it took a moment for the words to make their way through the aroused haze fuzzing my brain.

“No.” It was a weak ‘no,’ a pathetic rejection, and even I knew it didn’t sound like I meant it. He rocked his hips, sliding his shaft through my folds, bumping against the extremely sensitive spot at the apex, and I moaned.

I hated him. I wanted him. The emotions contradicted each other, yet they were equally true.

Teeth nipped me, scraping over sensitive skin, tugging on my nipple, and the needy ache that throbbed through me wouldn’t be denied.

What did it matter?

That was the thought that tempted, beckoned. He was going to have his way with me, anyway, so I might as well just say yes and get it over with. Let myself feel good. Enjoy what I could before I turned the world bloody.

“Tell me, little one.”

I was his wife now. ‘Til death do us part.

This wasn’t a sin. This was what was supposed to happen.

Hips shifted, and he pressed again, almost inside me, and I ached to be filled.

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