Page 42 of Hateful Vows
My other hand descends toward her milky thighs and I take hold of the knife strapped to it. She stops breathing but, in the mirror, her eyes widen with anything but fear. I press the blade against her collarbone. The first strap gives without resistance, and I move on to the next.
The gorgeous silk dress pools at her feet, leaving my wife almost naked before me, chest heaving and tits primed for my tongue. “Look at you,” I breathe. “So fucking perfect. So fuckingmine.”
I slide the blade against the lace of her panties and it falls to meet the rest of her clothes on the floor. The patch of dark curls at the apex of her thigh is a beacon begging for my touch.I admire her in the mirror, biting my lip to suppress a groan at how magnificent she is.
“Dante.”
My name is a plea on her sharp tongue.
“Say my name again.”
She obeys.
I turn her body to face mine and kneel at her feet. Delicately, like she could disappear any second, I lift her right leg, the one with the holster still attached to it. The blade goes back where it belongs. I trust her not to use it to slice my throat.
My lips trail against her inner thigh. Her cunt glistens with arousal, but I want to hear her beg for me first. I kiss the crease of her hip, coming back up to her lower belly, letting my hands roam on her sides, hips and perky ass.
“Dante.” This time, her voice holds a threat and I look up, entranced by how wanton she looks. I blow cold air on her pussy and she lets out a breath, before setting her jaw again. The fire in her eyes matches the way she grips my hair, trying to guide me when she needs me most. But I’m stronger than her. What I want more than to die between her thighs is for her to surrender.
“Say it,” I tell her, then bite her inner thigh and lick the sting away.
She makes an unintelligible noise that’s so fucking cute I almost cave.
“Beg me, wife. Beg me to fuck this cunt with my tongue. Beg me to make you come in my mouth like the desperate slut you are. I’ll give you what you need.”Kiss.“I’ll take care of everything.”Kiss.“Be mine. Say it.”Lick.
“Dante…Please.”
I dive in like a man starved. I latch onto her pussy like I will never get enough, because I won’t ever get enough of Irina Ventura’s taste.
“Oh God.”
“No God here,sposa mia. Just your husband.”
“I hate you,” she says. It sounds like something very different.
“I know.”
I swirl my tongue on her swollen clit before lapping at her entrance for her sweet nectar. I get drunk on her, back and forth, up and down. Both her hands clasp my skull and when I look up again, I see she’s looking at the mirror. At herself coming for her enemy, at the man she pretends to hate on his knees for her. It only takes seconds before she’s climbing towards her edge. A pretty peach hue stains her chest and cheekbones. There’s nothing more stunning in this world than my vicious wife when she lets go for me.
I’ve never been one to share, but I find that it’s a shame Aleksei isn’t here to witness it in the light rather than a hidden alcove.
“Yes, yes. Dante, please. I’m gonna come.” Irina chants my name and her prayers as I hold her ass to bring more of her into my mouth, taking and leaving nothing for her to hold in the wake of my hunger. My cock leaks in my pants and screams for release but I refuse to even brush it or adjust it. Nothing but my sweet wife's body will do.
I observe with reverence as she throws her head back and comes on my tongue with my name on her lips. Her moans echo in the space and I swear I need to record it next time, and send it to Aleksei so he can replay it over and over when he’s not with us.
I swipe against Irina’s clit a few more times, bringing her down slowly. When I stand, my hands frame her face as I crash my lips to hers, letting her taste herself on me. Irina paws at my shirt before deciding the belt is a more pressing time. Seizing her wrists with one hand, I press the emergency button with the other and the elevator rumbles back to life.
“Not here,sposa mia. I’m taking you home. I’m gonna fuck you in my bed and you’ll stay there until I’m done with you.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a vow.”
EIGHTEEN
IRINA
Dante kisses my brows and I feel more exposed and vulnerable than my naked state. He removes his suit jacket and places it over my frame, buttoning it all the way down. It covers just enough of my legs to walk the short distance between the hotel entrance and the car, but his men aren’t looking at us.
