Page 21 of Brutal Husband

“It’s starting to feel good,” I pant.

“We can do better thangood.” Nero pulls out of me, goes down on his knees, and runs his tongue up my sex. It feels so good that my head falls back in pleasure. “I’ve been dying to taste you. You’re delicious,cara mia.”

His wicked tongue works against my clit with such precision that my face flames with heat, and flames lick up my body. My thighs draw up around his head, and with a panting cry, I climax, his strong hands holding me tight.

I’m weak from my orgasm when he stands up and turns me over so my feet are on the ground and my body is bent forward over his desk.

When he thrusts into me again, I cry out at the top of my lungs, but from pleasure this time instead of pain. This is a world of difference from how it felt before. Each powerful thrust of his cock has me whimpering and clawing at the wood. The new angle makes his shaft rub against a heavenly spot deep inside of me, and I lose all control over myself, begging him to fuck me harder. To finish inside me. To burst apart from pleasure in the same way he’s made me feel.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. I need to stop.” He’s talking to himself more than to me, his voice low and agonized.

Shouldn’t what? We’re already having sex. What else is there to worry about? It’s too late for regret now, and Nero doesn’t seem to be regretting anything. His thrusts are as deep and greedy as ever.

“What difference will it make? Why shouldn’t I fill my bride up with cum? My beautiful little slut will look so pretty when she’s brimming with me.”

Heat flashes through me at his filthy words. So that’s what he’s so conflicted about. I don’t want him to pull out. I want his beautiful children. I want to feel him finish inside me, hard and deep.

If I’m pregnant with a swollen belly as I walk down the aisle toward him, I’ll be so proud. To hell with what everyone thinks.

I arch my back to drive him deeper and gaze over my shoulder at him. “Nero, please.”

“Fuck,cara mia. You want my baby?”

“Please, Nero. I want your baby. Make me pregnant.”

Nero’s eyes darken with desire. “You want me to fill your pussy with my cum and drive it so deep that I knock you up right here?”

“Please, Nero, please.”

He drives into me harder and harder, every thrust lighting up my insides. “My beautiful girl. My fucking wife. I’ll give you my baby.”

He pounds me so hard I have to hold on to the edge of his desk. It’s messy, wild, and glorious, and I love every second. Nero’s fingers dig into my hips, and he comes with a shout.

His thrusts slow, and he draws deep breaths into his lungs. His cock is still lodged deep inside me as he runs his fingers over my back. “I want to remember you just like this. My perfect, flushed bride, filled with cum. Always mine. Forever mine. Say it.”

My cheek is pressed against his desk, and I smile. “I’m yours, Nero.”

He reaches down between us, and I feel him wrap a thumb and finger around his cock, right up against my pussy. I’m slippery from my wetness and his cum. “I can’t wait to call you Mama as I watch your belly swell. You’re more my wife now than you will be on our wedding day.”

After several minutes of Nero touching me and humming appreciatively to himself, he finally pulls out and gathers me up in his arms, turning me around to face him. He takes my face in his hand, and an intense expression like I’ve never seen from him before fills his eyes. “No one will ever come between us.”

Nero’s so adamant about it that apprehension twists in my belly. What is he so worried about? Nero’s acting as though there are unseen forces working against us, and I can’t help but wonder…

Is someone trying to tear us apart?

Things move quickly after that.Nero wishes for us to be married as soon as possible, and so he books a church for the wedding and a big downtown hotel for the reception. I stare at him in shock when he tells me the date.

“That’s just two and a half weeks away, and there will only be forty or so people at our wedding. A ballroom at a big hotel will feel cavernous with so few people.”

Nero hands me a sheaf of papers. “I’ve invited nearly three hundred guests, including your family. Here’s the list.”

I go through the pages, reading name after name I don’t recognize. “Who are all these people? I thought you didn’t have any family.”

“I don’t. These are my business associates.”

I keep leafing through the pages. Actually, I do recognize some of the names—from the news headlines. Money laundering. Homicide. Perjury. Illegal gambling and trading. Very few of them were ever convicted.

“But I don’t want these kinds of people at our…”

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