Page 48 of The Devil's Torment

As I do, he thrusts forward, jamming himself to the hilt. “Ow.”

“Hold steady. Let your body adjust. Keep breathing. That’s it. Good girl.”

I’m glad I’m not a virgin, although it’s been so long since I had sex, maybe my hymen has regenerated. Sure feels like my first time. Worse than that. Nicholas is considerably girthier than both my other sexual partners.

“Look at me.”

Pushing away thoughts of anything other than Nicholas, I focus on his face, the strain of holding himself still evident in corded muscles and a locked jaw.

“There you are.” He captures my mouth, and as his tongue pushes past my lips, he pulls out, angles his hips, and thrusts back into me with a grunt. It’s still a tight fit, but the more he moves, the more I adjust, my body welcoming him rather than fighting against the intrusion. He shifts his position again, and something grazes me deep inside, setting off an explosion that hits me out of nowhere. It’s not like anything I’ve felt before. It’s… otherworldly.

Shudders rack my body, my toes curling into the crisp covers. I fist the sheets with one hand and rake my nails down his back.

“God.God.”

Our bodies smash together, all sweat and friction and slapping flesh. Grabbing his face, I pull his mouth to mine. This time, I’m the instigator, the demanding one. His thrusts are wild now, out of control. I meet him as an equal, both hands clamped to his arse and my legs hooked over his hips as I urge him to fuck me deeper, harder.

“Fuck.”

“Now it’s your turn to come,” I murmur in his ear. “For yourself, not for me.”

A low groan sounds in his throat. “Coming.” He thrusts twice more, then stills, giving me that same look of ecstasy he had when he came over my chest. Collapsing onto me, yet keeping his full weight from crushing me, he buries his face in my neck.

“Wife?”

A warm feeling spreads through my midsection. I could get used to him calling me that. “Yeah?”

“Don’t plan on getting much rest on this honeymoon.”

ChapterEighteen

VICKY

My husband has unleashed a beast I wasn’t even aware lurked beneath the surface, waiting in the shadows for the right person to come along and release it from its cage.

I’m insatiable.

Since arriving in Croatia yesterday, we’ve had sex five times, breaking only to eat, shower, take a breath of air, then go all over again. And still I woke this morning to a pulsing clit and an unquenchable need to have him again. All it took was for me to reach for him, and he gave me what I craved.

I’m sore, but in a good way. Already, my body explodes for him with little stimulation. All thoughts of suffering from some kind of biological defect have vanished. Nicholas proved over and over, giving me at least fifteen orgasms, that there’s nothing wrong with me. All I needed was… well, him.

Except, he wasn’t ever supposed to be mine.

I’d give anything to have my sister back, yet if she was here, she’d be married to Nicholas now, and I’d only ever be able to admire him from afar. A fresh onslaught of guilt swamps me, crushing me from the inside. Will it ease over time, or will I always have this terrible feeling that I’ve stolen something which never belonged to me?

After showering, I choose a summery yellow, knee-length dress and stuff my feet into comfortable white trainers. Nicholas mentioned something about exploring the old town this morning, then if the weather conditions are right, we’re to go sailing after lunch. At the last minute, I grab a white cardigan in case it’s chilly on the water.

The smell of fresh pastries and bacon leads me to the dining room. This house is enormous by most standards, but it’s dwarfed when compared to Oakleigh. I prefer it, though, and I’m kind of sad this isn’t where we’ll make our home. Then again, my friends are in England, and Imogen, too. I’d miss them terribly if we lived here.

Get out of your head, Vicky. No one has mentioned living here.

Nicholas puts down his phone the second I enter, and the smile he gives me oozes sex, his dark eyes roaming over my simple outfit like I’m wearing Chanel and walking the red carpet. He sure has a way of making me feel as though I’m the center of his world.

Did he look at Beth that way? Did she feel the same as I do right now? Oddly enough, we never spoke about her marriage to Nicholas. I was too filled with anger and, yes, jealousy, to ask her, and she never volunteered, nor did she complain about her fate. That wasn’t Beth’s style. She waseasyto be around, kind, and quietly spoken. Not for the first time, I wonder whether our stark differences contributed toward my parents favoring her over me. Was I too difficult for them? Too outspoken? Too disobedient?

“You look lovely.”

Lovely can sometimes sound like a copout word, not quite as bad as “nice” but along the same lines. Yet when Nicholas says it, it’s as though he’s bestowing the greatest compliment on me.

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