Page 118 of The Devil's Torment

“Is that right?” He moves closer to my ear, his lips grazing the shell. “All I could think about on the drive home was eating your pussy and having you squirt your cum all over my face.”

The low-lying muscles in my abdomen clench, and I press my thighs together. “That’s better.”

He runs his gaze over me. “If I put my hand between your legs, how wet would you be?”

“You could always test it out.”

“I plan to.” He pivots me and slaps my arse. “Go get naked, and I’ll be in shortly.”

“Don’t need to ask me twice.” These last few months, my husband has treated me like I’m made of brittle glass, and I’m over it. I want to be flung about, bent over and pounded, have him pull my hair, and spank my backside.

Stepping into the bedroom, I skid to a halt, frowning at what I see on the bed. How odd. “Nicholas?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Why is my wedding dress and your morning suit on the bed?”

He sidles up behind me, caressing both my hips before he kisses along the back of my neck. “I thought we should do it right this time.”

Turning me in his arms, he drops to one knee. In the palm of his hand is a beautiful diamond ring encrusted with what looks like rubies.

“They’re red emeralds,” he says as if he’s reading my thoughts. “Extremely rare and precious. Just like you.” Capturing my left hand, he removes my wedding band and slides the ring onto my finger. “Victoria De Vil, will you re-marry me?”

I press my palm to my chest. “Oh, Nicholas.”

“Is that a yes?”

Nodding, I say, “It’s a hundred percent yes.”

He slides my wedding band into his pocket and removes his own. “Then we should get dressed because we’re already late for the ceremony.”

Twenty minutes later, I float down the stairs in a dress I never thought I’d have cause to wear again. I haven’t had a chance to do much with my hair, nor apply any makeup other than the light layer I wore to the hospital, but when I asked for more time, Nicholas insisted he loves me bare and mussed up.

Parked outside the front of Oakfield is a Rolls Royce silver shadow. Sol’s standing by the open back door dressed head-to-toe in a chauffeur’s outfit, including a top hat, when he usually wears black trousers and a shirt.

“Did you threaten to behead him if he didn’t comply?”

Nicholas chuckles. “It was his idea.”

“Aww, Sol.” I give him a playful nudge as I get in the car. He blushes so fiercely, even his ears turn red.

It only takes five minutes to drive to the chapel. As we alight, my father appears from inside, presumably to walk me down the aisle.

“We’re recreating the entire ceremony?”

“Not entirely.” Nicholas winks at me, claps my father on the shoulder, and enters the chapel.

What does that mean?

“Vicky.” Dad holds out his arms and embraces me. It’s a stark contrast to my original wedding day.

Since I almost died, my parents have become a lot more tactile and open. It’s taking some getting used to. It’s difficult to wipe out twenty-four years of conditioning, but I’m trying.

“Ready?”

Taking a deep breath, I smile and slide my hand through the crook of his elbow. “Ready.”

The organist begins playing the wedding march. I enter the chapel, expecting to see the hordes of guests who were at the original ceremony. Instead, it’s mostly empty, with only a few people occupying the first two rows of seats.

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