Page 16 of The Hand that Frays

“Stupid girl, you’re here on your honeymoon. You’re not here to worry.”

Her eyes narrow. “But we also have a job to do, right? I know that you’re here to kill?—”

I silence her by covering her mouth with my hand. “I am here to kill Anne Hatt, stupid wife. You’re here to enjoy yourself and to be my perfect little fuck toy.”

Her breathing grows ragged behind my hand, and I smirk.

“There’s my girl. Don’t worry. Worrying gets you in trouble. Worrying gets you dead.”

Her tongue darts out and licks my palm that still covers her mouth.

I pull my hand back.

“Fine. I won’t worry. What are we going to do first?”

“First, I’m going to wash you. Then I’m going to fuck you senseless in that massive tub in there.”

She claps her hands, bouncing up and down.

Yes, this version of Lyla is what I need to feel whole.

“Get undressed and be in the shower by the time I get in there,” I tell her, turning to remove things out of my pockets to do the same.

“Yes, sir,” she replies breathlessly.

I shake my head when I walk into the bathroom and see her naked but not in the shower.

She’s kneeling beside the running shower, grinning at me.

“Didn’t I tell you to be in the shower?”

She’s prodding at me, and because it’s our honeymoon, I’ll play along.

Were it any other time, her disobedience wouldn’t be a fucking game. Her answering smirk tells me she knows it, too.

“Oh, did you?” she asks, feigning confusion. “I knew I was forgetting some part of your order.”

I step close to her, looming as I look down at her.

From here, I can see her perfect, perky nipples and the sinfully dark look in her eyes as she bites her lower lip.

“You always need direction.” I shake my head.

She runs her hands up the front of my bare legs, making my cock twitch in answer to her touch.

“Will you tire of directing me, husband?”

The term grates through my gray matter, making my body feel so fucking alive.

I reach down and fist her hair in both hands, guiding her mouth to my cock as I shove inside it with one thrust.

“Never!”

The tub is only filledwith a few inches of water, and I’m on its edge. Lyla’s beautiful, branded ass is arched perfectly as I use the globes of it to push and pull her on my cock.

Her face dances dangerously close to the water in thebottom as she grapples on her forearms, not to slide away from my cock.

“Put your face in the water. I’ll tell you when you can breathe,” I tell her, hissing when she listens quickly.

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