Page 20 of His to Hold

I clench my jaw, angrier now than when she slapped me. “You do not get to call me that.”

Tony is what the people I’m closest to call me. My traitorous wife does not fall into that category.

“You’re nothing to me, Isabella.” I pull out and shove in deep. “Nothing but a warm hole to fuck.”

Her anguished gasp gives me a twisted sense of satisfaction. I don’t care if my words hurt her. She’s wounded me more than any enemy ever has. She’s burrowed under my skin and she’s still there, driving me to distraction with her deceptively innocent eyes and air of vulnerability.

I ravage her pussy, entering her with firm strokes that go a little deeper each time. Digging my fingers into her hips, I keep up a punishing pace, trying to purge a year’s worth of pent-up emotion by fucking my wife hard and fast. I’m like a man possessed. This can’t be easy for her to take, but her frantic mewls tell me she’s loving every second of this. Confirmation of that comes as her pussy squeezes my cock, sending an insistent pulse straight to my balls.

The tightening of her body around mine is enough to trigger my own release. There’s a pressure at the base of my spine. The muscles in my neck cord as I grit my teeth. I have to bite my tongue not to call out Isabella’s name. I don’t want her to know how deeply she’s affecting me.

Pulling out of her, I watch with satisfaction as my cum leaks from her pussy. This woman is mine and I intend to assert that fact every chance I get. The limpness of her body tells me she’s exhausted. I wrap my arm around Isabella’s waist to prevent her from crumpling to the floor. I turn her to face me. With hair plastered to her forehead and cheeks flushed, she’s a gorgeous mess. The well-fucked look suits her.

Since my wife is clearly exhausted, I lead her to the bed and pull back the covers for her. She clambers straight into bed and curls up on her side, facing away from me. I strip off my clothes and get in next to her.

“Did you like that, Bella?” I put my hands behind my head to combat the temptation to touch her. As much as I want to sleep with my arms wrapped around her, I’m not prepared to cuddle a snake. “Did you like being fucked like you don’t matter?”

She doesn’t answer. Her soft, snuffling breaths tell me she’s already asleep. Tonight hasn’t brought me any sense of resolution. I’m no closer to understanding Isabella’s betrayal. One thing is clearer to me now, though. She needs a firm hand. Fortunately, I’m just the man to give it to her.

CHAPTER 8

Isabella

My sleep isn’t particularly restful. Though I was out like a light the moment my head hit the pillow, my slumber didn’t last. Nightmares haunted my dreams, waking me several times. Fueled by guilt, they were filled with violence, blood, and death. The images were so vivid I felt like I was back there in the kitchen of the beach house. Every sound, smell, touch was real to me.

Each time I woke, Antonio soothed me back to sleep. He stroked my hair, murmured assurances I was safe. I only half believed him.

When I open my eyes, it’s brighter than I expected. Used to waking in the early hours of the morning before the sun has fully risen, I’m surprised by how much light is in the room. There’s a golden haze that tells me it’s going to be a sunny day.

As I wriggle about, shaking off the last remnants of sleep, I realize something is wrong. I never sleep on my back and certainly not with my hands above my head. I try to lower my arms, but they’re stuck. The clink of metal confirms what I already suspect and when I glance up, I find my wrists bound together with leather cuffs and chained to a metal ring on the wooden headboard. Shit. How did I not know that was there?

Tugging frantically, I try to release myself.

“Careful, Bella. You don’t want to hurt yourself.”

I raise my head and find Antonio lounging in the doorway. He’s immaculately dressed in black pants and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up. He hasn’t got a single hair out of place.

“What’s going on?” I try to sound as if I’m not equal parts scared and turned on by being tethered to the bed. Completely naked, I feel incredibly vulnerable.

Antonio comes to sit on the edge of the bed beside me. “You had nightmares.”

“And your solution was to chain me to the bed?” I shake my head. “That’s fucked up, Antonio.”

“Don’t curse, Bella, it doesn’t suit you.”

“I’ll do more than curse if you don’t let me go this minute.”

Antonio throws back his head and laughs at my death stare. “You’re cute when you’re angry. Now, tell me about your nightmares.”

I furrow my brow. Is this a therapy session? If he wants to explore my psyche, this is a funny way to go about it.

“Bella,” he prompts.

“It’s the same dream, a memory, really. I’m at the beach house. Rico corners me in the kitchen and grabs me. He pulls me close and I can feel his…” I can’t bring myself to say erection, but the scowl on Antonio’s face tells me he knows what I’m referring to. “He tells me he’s going to fuck me until I bleed. I grab the frying pan and hit him over and over. There’s blood everywhere, so much blood.”

I shudder as I think about it.

“Then what?” Antonio asks.

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