Page 67 of Deadly Oath

The words burn through me, degrading and arousing all at once, and I nod, his stiff cock an inch from my mouth. I can see the pre-cum pearling at the tip, feel the veins pulsing against my hand, feel his tension and his lust.

“Suck it, princess,” Kian commands, his voice a rasping growl. “I want to see those pretty lips around my cock. I want to feel your throat around me.”

I lean forward, brushing my lips against the head as I flick my tongue out over the swollen flesh. Kian groans as I slide my tongue over the tip, the salty taste of his pre-cum filling my mouth as I tease the soft flesh just underneath, slowly sliding my lips over his cockhead so that the first inch is in my mouth.

Kian’s hand fists in my hair, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at me. “No teasing, princess,” he warns. “Show me how well you can suck me.”

There’s something like a threat in his voice, but that only turns me on more. I can feel how wet I am as I slide my lips down his length, soaking through the lace of my panties, my inner thighs sticky as I try to fit as much of him as I can in my mouth. He’s almost too big, my lips stretching around him as I slide him over my tongue, and I choke as his cockhead slips into my throat.

Kian lets out a hiss of pleasure, his nails digging into my scalp as I struggle to take him deeper. “Keep going, princess,” he growls. “Take it all, or I’ll force it down your throat.”

I feel like I can’t breathe, trapped by the hard thickness in my mouth and his hand in my hair, panic coiling in my stomach, but the fear mingles with desire until all I feel is a hot, throbbing pulse, an ache for some pleasure of my own. One of my hands is braced against his thigh, as he starts to push himself deeper, but the other starts to pull up the edge of my wedding dress, wanting to find its way beneath it.

Kian chuckles, a dark, lustful sound. “You want to play with your clit while you suck me, princess? I’ll allow it. But take every inch, or I’ll tie you up and come in your mouth again and again until you’re drowning in my cum and begging me to give you an orgasm. And I won’t,” he threatens. “I’ll make you swallow my cum until I’m spent and leave you aching until the morning.”

I don’t know if he would actually do it, but I think he might. And even the thought of that makes me moan around his cock, a small part of my mind wondering why this turns me on even as I force him deeper into my throat, gagging on his width as I reach under my skirt and slide my fingers into my panties.

I’m fucking drenched. So wet that my fingers slip against my outer flesh, my panties wet all the way through, and I push two fingers between my swollen folds, eagerly finding my clit as Kian tightens his grip on my hair, his other hand gripping my chin and holding my mouth open as he starts to thrust.

I thought he fucked my face before, but it was nothing compared to this. He fucks my face as if he’s fucking my pussy, driving his cock to the back of my throat again and again, until I’m choking and my mascara is running, tears dripping down my cheeks. And all the while, my fingers are sliding against my clit, frantically rubbing, pushing me closer and closer to an orgasm that I’m desperate for. I can feel it winding tight in the pit of my stomach, feel the muscles of my inner thighs tensing, and as Kian drives himself into my throat once more and then pulls himself free, I know what’s about to happen.

My orgasm hits just as he spurts cum over my face, hot bursts of it coating my tongue and lips and cheeks, hitting my forehead and chin and dripping onto my cleavage. I moan, my mouth opening wider as my hips buck upwards into my hand, my pussy clenching with the need for something to fill me as I come hard while Kian sprays my face with his cum.

“You filthy whore,” he growls, shoving his cock between my lips as he thrusts over my tongue, the last drops of it spilling into my mouth. “Look at you. A filthy bride with my cum all over her face. Get up.”

He snarls it at me, and for a moment, it feels too real. I freeze, my fingers still pressed to my clit, my mind foggy and dizzy with the shudders of pleasure still rippling through me. Suddenly, this doesn’t feel like a game.

But it is. He’s playing out a fantasy, just like every other night. Ruining his beautiful bride with his cock and his cum, making mehis, wrecking me as he fucks me into oblivion. And Ilikeit. I came harder than I think I ever have before, just with my fingers, from the degradation of him coming all over my face. And the night is only just beginning.

I have no doubt that Kian will get hard for me again. Maybe more than once. And that thought sends heat blooming through me, making me moan as he looks down at me with that strange look of triumph on his face once again.

“Getup,” he growls, his hand on my chin urging me up to my feet. “I want to strip my pretty wife naked so I can fuck another one of her holes.”

I’m trembling as I get to my feet, confusion and desire making my knees feel weak, the rational part of my mind warring with the part that is horribly, inexplicably turned on by this.

“Turn around,” Kian orders, and I realize he hasn’t kissed me since we walked into this room. He won’t now, I imagine, not with his cum streaked over my lips. And I don’t think he’s going to clean me up, this time.

Slowly, I turn around, my fingers tangling in the skirt of my dress as I feel Kian’s hands go to the buttons at the back. He undoes them, one by one, tugging sharply at each button as if they’ve been put there specifically to slow him down. I’m half afraid he might rip the dress, but he undoes them all, until I feel his fingers reach for the zipper at the top that the buttons cover, and he begins to drag it down.

It’s not as if this is the first time I’ve been naked with Kian. It’s not even as if this is the first time we’ve played out these kinds of rough, degrading fantasies. But somehow, this feels different. I don’t know if it’s the ring on my finger and the vows we exchanged today, or if it’s the way he’s behaving tonight, with a dark, possessive edge to him that’s even more intense than any other night we’ve spent together. But it feels as if he’s stripping me bare for the first time, as if his fingertips sliding down the base of my spine as he drags the zipper down is something new, uncharted.

“So perfect,” Kian murmurs, his hands smoothing over my backas he starts to push the dress open. One fingertip touches the lace band of the bralette I chose to go under the dress. “I see you picked out something special for tonight, princess.”

“It’s our wedding night.” I resist the urge to turn and look at him, since he hasn’t told me to yet. I have a strange feeling that tonight, of all nights, I should obey his instructions. “I wanted it to feel special.”

“It is.” He slides the straps of my dress down my arms, and I shiver at the feel of his roughened palms against my skin. “I’ve been waiting for this night for what feels like a very long time, Sabrina.”

A shiver runs through me, thinking of that—that even as brief a time as we’ve known each other, he’s wanted me so badly that it’s felt like ages to him. It makes me glad that even if I ended up in a marriage of convenience after all, it’s with this man. Someone who wants me badly enough that he was willing to do this to protect me.

The dress slips down, over my breasts to catch around my waist, and Kian’s hands go to my hips, pushing the skirt down so that it all puddles on the floor around my feet, a pool of lace and silk and tulle. His fingers graze over the edge of the lace panties, and I hear his softly indrawn breath.

“Get on the bed, princess,” he growls, turning me so that I’m facing it. “Lie down on your back.”

I can feel the weight of his gaze on me as I walk to the bed. Every sensation feels enhanced, from the scratch of my duvet against my knees as I climb onto the mattress to the cool silkiness of the pillows against the back of my neck when I lie down. I look over at Kian, and his eyes drift over me, taking in every last detail as he starts to unbutton his shirt.

My stomach tightens as I watch him. I’ve never seen a man as gorgeous as he is, every inch of him sculpted with muscle, inked with the tattoos that swirl over his skin. My breath catches as I watch him undo the shirt button by button, and I see a smirk curl the edges of his lips, telling me that he knows exactly how much I’m enjoying the show.

“Like what you see, princess?” he murmurs, amusement in his voice, and I nod, biting my lip.

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