Page 15 of His Little Spitfire

Instead of turning me off, he’s adding more fuel to the fire burning in the pit of my stomach.

One look over my shoulders, and I immediately regret it. Seeing his normally stoic expression replaced by a hint of flush and a dazed stare at where our bodies are connecting is enough to make my pussy tighten.

He looks like he isn’t even in control of what he’s doing. He looks like he may… want me. More than just my pussy, but my entire being.

That can’t be it. I’m imagining things. I have to look away before I get ahead of myself and think something so stupid can actually be a thing.

The tension in my stomach is going tighter by the thrust. He’s pushing against spots I’ve never known to exist. Aiming at them with purpose, it doesn’t take much before I’m crying out, my orgasm hitting me hard enough to leave my head spinning.

“Fuck, you’re going to milk every drop, aren’t you?” He growls low in his throat, and I swear I can feel the vibration run all the way straight to my clit.

I don’t have time to absorb his words or figure out what he means. He rocks faster, thrusting harder until he buries himself deep.

My fingers curl into fists as I feel his cock pulsate against my fluttery walls and the heat of his release fills the tight space.

I’m so dizzy. My throat hurts from the noises that have forced their way out.

My body feels good, but I’m so confused as to why.

This man should not make me feel as good as he had. It’s him, after all. I’m meant to loathe him.

We stay like this, fighting to catch our breaths. Seconds turn into a minute, and with that, the heat starts to seep through the cracks, replaced by an unsettling coolness.

I just gave this man my virginity and didn’t even try to put up a fight. I let him chase his pleasure while giving me my own.

I gave myself to this man. To the one I’m forced to call my soon-to-be husband.

I signed the paper. He didn’t force me to pick up the pen,Isigned it. Willingly.

A chill rolls up my spine, and a groan falls from my lips as he pulls out, leaving nothing behind but the wet sensation of his release.

Even worse, we did this without protection. I can already picture the consequences of our actions.

I close my eyes tight to stop from looking at him. I bite my lip hard enough to cause pain, because I should be feeling something here.

Something that isn’t the tingling fluttering around in the pit of my stomach.

He’s going to rub my face in his victory here. He got what he wanted. We’re going to be married now. Good for him.

Instead of mocking me like I expect, I’m surprised when he helps me back into my pants. Then, even more, he picks me up like a newlywed bride.

How embarrassing. Even more so that I don’t fight him. Rather, I tuck my face into the crook of his neck to hide my flushed cheeks.

I was loud, I know. Others will know what we’ve done, and what I’ve lost. I’m humiliated, and sticky, and…

I don’t want to think about it.

“I hope you’re happy,” I mumble against his skin, hoping he’ll say something that will piss me off. Something that will calm my racing heart.

Instead, his throat vibrates with a grunt. Giving me absolutely nothing to go off of, he carries me to his room and drops me off in the bathroom.

Before I can even think about telling him to pretend this never happened, or to ask why he did what he did in the first place, he’s leaving the bathroom, shutting the door with more force that is needed. From another matching thump, I realize he’s left his room too.

Now alone, I don’t dare look at my reflection. I already know I won’t recognize the woman looking back.

A married woman. Maybe not officially, not yet. However, it won’t be long. The way Santino wanted to make this happen the day he put down the order, I’m sure they’ll have someone notarize it before the sun lowers.

Shaking my head, I step toward the shower, and my legs shake. My pussy is throbbing, aching, and warm from our shared release.

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