Page 46 of The Devil's Torment

What if last night was a fluke?

God, I hope not. But the way he’s looking at me like a starving man faced with a buffet of his favorite foods, I’m about to find out.

“Don’t be scared.” He drags his knuckles along my cheekbone. “I’m going to take care of you. I promise I’ll make it good.”

He kisses me again, but it’s different. Harder, more demanding, his tongue seeking mine. Leaning into me, he walks me backward. My knees hit the bed, but I don’t collapse in a heap like I did on our wedding night. This time, Nicholas supports me until I’m lying in the middle of the bed, his taut, inked body looming over me, his dick hard again already.

“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

“You’ve changed your tune.” I don’t know what makes me say it, and the second the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could shove them back in.

A shadow passes over his features, and his pupils dilate, eclipsing the rich chocolate of his irises. “I never saw you then, but I fucking see you now.”

If I thought of coming back with a response, his mouth crashing on mine scuppers that idea. His lips and hands are everywhere at once, and I lose myself to his touch. Closing my eyes, I let my other senses take over. The subtle scent of his cologne as he kisses my neck, the roughened pads of his fingers traveling over my ribcage, my waist, my hips. The soft moans and grunts that tell me he’s enjoying this as much as I am.

Running my hands over his broad shoulders, I trace his muscles all the way to the base of his spine and back up again, but when he pushes two fingers inside me, I let out a cry and dig my nails into his back.

“That’s it, baby. Fucking mark me, because I’m sure as hell going to mark you.”

He curls his fingers and grazes them along the front wall of my vagina, and I almost shoot off the bed.God.A groan bursts out of me, and my pelvis thrusts up, greedily pushing into his hand, demanding more.

“You’re soaked. Is that from sucking my dick?”

Words are impossible. I nod. It’s all I can manage.

“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, wife?” He pinches my clit, then rubs it soothingly, round and round in circles.

“Please,” I whisper.

“Let your body guide you.” His teeth nibble my ear lobe, and it’s glorious. “Let go, Half-pint. I’ve got you. Come first, then I’m going to put my dick in you. You want that, don’t you? You want my dick?”

I gulp in air that forces its way past my throat. His dirty mouth is doing things to me I wouldn’t have thought it would.

Yes, I want that. I want it more than air.

I manage a nod of encouragement.

“Then, you know what to do.” He latches onto my nipple, and his fingers slide in and out of me, and I’m there. I’mright there. But it doesn’t happen. I linger on the precipice, and I can see the ground beneath me, the frothy waves waiting for me to dive in, but my feet are glued to the ground and no matter how much I want to jump, they won’t move.

I’m still broken. It was a fluke.

Tears fill my eyes. I close them. If Nicholas sees, he’ll know. And I don’t want him to see the truth. I turn my head to the side, and I do what I’ve always done.

I fake it.

Oh, it’s an award-winning performance, all scissoring legs and loud, breathy moans. His fingers stop moving inside me, but he keeps them there. I force my lips into a brilliant smile and open my eyes.

The glower that greets me is the kind that probably makes grown men pee their pants.

“What the fuck did you do?” His voice simmers with suppressed rage, and his cheeks and neck are splashed with blotchy red like an artist has flicked a paint-filled brush at him. “I told you not to ever fake it with me. I fucking know, Victoria. I always fucking know.”

A swallow forces its way past the lump that’s crawled into my throat. Reaffirmation of the lie is on the tip of my tongue, but if I lie to him again, I’m not sure what he’ll do, and as brave as I am, I’m also not stupid.

“Talk to me, for fuck’s sake. Tell me why you did it.”

“Because,” I snap, shoving at his chest until he rolls to the side, and his fingers slip out of me. I sit up, showing my back to him. “It takes too long. It’s too difficult.”

Silence fills the room, and I’m desperate to make a dash for the bathroom, lock the door, and refuse to come out. Although I wouldn’t put it past Nicholas to kick the door down if I did. Embarrassment washes over me in powerful waves, my face hotter than baking for ten hours in the sun without sunscreen. I stare at the floor, willing it to open up and swallow me, to save me from this mortifying conversation.

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