Page 86 of Wicked King

Warmth floods my entire being, my chest so full I’m certain it’ll burst. Wrapped in Marco’s arms, his musky, cedarwood scent invading my nostrils, it all feels like too much. A tangle of pain, embarrassment, anger, and now hope bloat my torso. My heart slams against my ribcage in a desperate effort to break through the skeletal barrier between us.

I never planned on admitting the truth, on allowing him to see my scars, but maybe it was time. Because can a wound really heal without ever seeing the light of day?

I want to believe Marco; I wish our marriage could work because maybe Yéye is right. Maybe Marco Rossi really is the man for me. But I’m terrified. Exposing myself to him was more difficult than giving him my body.

My virginity had become more of an inconvenience than anything else.

But revealing my true self, scars and all, is humiliating. That I allowed Bà to abuse me for years is mortifying. I was weak, something I vowed never to be again. And behind Marco’s looming shadow, I fear I would become that meek little girl again.

“Talk to me, spitfire.” Marco’s gaze rakes over me, the depth of emotion in those multi-colored spheres stealing the remaining air from my lungs.

It’s not as if I want to be with another man either. But he’s right, the idea of tying myself, of placing all my faith and trust in him scares the shit out of me.

“Okay, you’ve left me no choice. I’m going to have to say it now, even if we are both naked standing in the bathroom.”

I glance down between us and finally notice his erection wedged between our bodies. I swear the man is eternally aroused.

“I love you, Jia.”

My eyes snap up, the unexpected declaration catching me completely off guard. “Wha?—”

“I’m hopelessly, madly in love with you, Jia, my wife. I probably have been for a while, now, if I’m being honest with myself, since for as long as I can remember, I haven’t wanted to fuck anyone else but you.”

My heart staggers out a manic beat, and all the air evacuates my lungs. The sincerity in his eyes is breathtaking and startling all at the same time. I want to say how can you love me? I’ve been awful to him from the very beginning. More than that, though, I want to say I love you too, but how can I when I’m not sure I know what real love is? It’s been so long since I felt it, I’ve forgotten what it is.

“I don’t want an open marriage,” I whisper instead. For now, it’s the best I can do.

“Thank Dio,” he mumbles against my lips. “Because the idea of another man’s hands on you would send me to an early grave. Or worse, prison, because I’d have to murder anyone who dared touch my wife.”

My wife. Somehow it doesn’t sound so scary anymore.

I lean into him, reveling in his familiar scent. Then I rise to my tiptoes and brush a kiss to his lips. It’s chaste and gentle, but his cock grows even harder, poking me in the belly. A flicker of heat courses below my bellybutton, and my hips tilt to meet his. “I think I’m ready for that bath now.”

“Thank fuck.” He scoops me into his arms once more and within two long strides, we’re inside the oversized marble tub, the tepid water enveloping me in its embrace. He reaches for the faucet and runs the hot water, warming the lukewarm bath. Then he gently removes the bandage across my chest, scowling at the puckered skin beneath.

“It’s fine,” I whisper. “It doesn’t hurt, I swear.”

With a huff of resignation, Marco slides to the back of the tub, pulling me between his legs so my back is against his chest and his cock is wedged between my ass cheeks. He dips his chin to my shoulder, and his warm breath skates across the shell of my ear. “Have you ever been fucked in the ass, spitfire?”

A thrill races up my spine as his thick shaft glides along my crack. “No,” I squeal, wriggling. “Let’s work on one hole at a time, honey.”

His tongue licks along my collarbone, sucking and nibbling. “Fair enough. But by the time we’re old and gray, I will have claimed every inch of you, wifey.”

“I think I can handle that.”

His hand curls around my waist, then his fingers dance down my thigh and find my pulsing center. I’m already aching, but in the best way. His finger gently glides through my wet folds.

“Is this okay?” he whispers against the shell of my ear, eliciting a wave of goosebumps.

“Yes.” My hips buck, forcing his finger deeper.

“Mmm, you’re so tight, spitfire. Do you feel that? How your hungry pussy sucks my finger in?”

I nod, the fiery sensations already building.

“Do you think you can take my cock again so soon?”

“Umhmm,” I murmur, that skilled thumb exerting just the right amount of pressure on my clit as his middle finger slips inside me.

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