Page 162 of Bad Little Bride

“Stay still, baby,” he demands, and then his knife—scratch that—my knifethat he must have slid from my top without my notice, is plunged between my breasts. He isn’t carful or gentle, but hardly yanks it downward until my entire dress is slit open. He spins me and takes a look, groaning in appreciation. “Nopanties. Perfect.” He shoves the dress down my shoulders, and it falls like a coat at our feet, the cool night air blasting across my fevered skin. He throws the blade, rough hands folding around the backs of my thighs, and hauls me up.

My legs weave around him, and he spins, pressing my back into the tree. His mouth falls on mine instantly, vicious, hungry sounds reverberating in his throat as he fucks my mouth, grinding his cock against my pussy. His cock he freed at some point.

It’s hot and swollen, throbbing against me.

“I want you inside me,” I whine. “Please, baby.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he rasps, licking and kissing and sucking my lips, my neck, and throat.

A throaty laugh leaves me, and I roll against him.

His hand creates the perfect choker, and he uses his hold to pin me against the tree, bending to take my nipple between his teeth, and I swear I could come like this.

More squeals and giggles fill the air, and I tense slightly.

Enzo chuckles, scraping his teeth over the sensitive nub of my left, then right breast. “Mino, Dom, and a few of the guards are having some fun with your look-alikes. It was only fair to share.”

“And if they catch them?”

“When they catch them…they’ll do exactly what I’m doing now, assuming the ones they find are getting off on this little game as much as they are. As much as I am.”

“So, it’s about to be one big-ass orgy out here?” I moan, biting into my lip when he tugs at my nipple, sucking my flesh once more.

“If we’re lucky.” Enzo shifts his hip, and then his cock is slamming up into me, filling me to the hilt with one brutal, beautiful push.

We moan together, and I wait for more. For the merciless pounding I’m desperate for, but he holds still, not moving a single inch, just standing there, buried inside me.

Slowly, he spins, sliding down the tree trunk until he’s on his ass, me in his lap with his legs outstretched behind me, forcing himself impossibly deeper. My entire body shudders, and I grip his face, my heart pounding wildly when he looks up at me with a tender expression. He reaches up, and I expect him to tear the veil from my hair, but instead he gently grabs ahold of the delicate piece and refixes it, settling it back in place as his fingers run its length, draping it around my shoulders until his fingers slip free, knuckles brushing over my pebbled nipple. “What you did today was—” I expect him to stay dumb or foolish, but what he says is “brave.”

My insides melt at the expression in his eyes, and I run my thumb along his lower lip.

“You figured out Nicholas was the snake.” A small frown builds across his brow. “I put him in your path. Approved him as your personal driver.”

I drop my forehead to his, smoothing out the small creases that have formed at the edges of his eyes, and roll my hips once. He groans, eyes closing a moment before locking with mine once more.

“I figured out Nicholas. You figured out Torin, and we both knew Philip was involved.” I slide my tongue from the right side of his mouth to the left. “That’s every piece of the puzzle, baby. It’s proof.”

“Proof,” he mimics, the question in his eyes.

I nod, rolling my body forward once. Twice.

His hands find my hips, giant hands sprawled wide, fingertips digging in just a bit.

“Proof,” I repeat. “That you and me? We make one hell of a team.”

He stares at me for several long seconds, then his hand wraps around the back of my neck, drawing me in. This kiss is slow, tender, and not like one we’ve shared before. It’s heavier. More profound.

It shreds my heart open, bleeds it dry, then sews it back up, leaving his soul trapped on the inside.

Our eyes lock and he grinds me into him, his words a caressing command. “Dance for me, Little Bride. Make me come. Force me to fill your pretty little cunt.”

A shuttered breath slips past my lips and I don’t wait for further instructions.

My hips roll, slow, then faster, up, down, left, right, a perfect rhythm, then no rhythm at all as I flail wildly, head tossed back and mouth agape.

The sounds that fill the orchards are filthy, not only ours, and pure fucking ecstasy.

“I’m going to come already,” I tell him.

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