Page 43 of Hateful Vows
“Do not disturb us,” Dante barks at the chauffeur before closing the partition between the front and back.
Despite the two orgasms he wrung from me, I’m still high-strung and ready for more. I’m ravenous for his cock, for anything he will give. I try to ignore the promise of fucking me in his bed and forcing me to sleep in it, but a little part of me is delighted he wants me there.
I haven’t even checked his room at the penthouse. I thought if I kept him at arm’s length and didn’t know anything of substance about him, I wouldn’t fall. But then I met his mother, I met Francisco, and I see how carefree and warm he can be with his men. I should not find him endearing, but Dante smiles freely, he gives everything he has, makes jokes of every situation. His lack of seriousness is despicable.
And I adore it. Against my better judgement, obviously.
The car rocks us comfortably and I can’t wait. I straddle my husband and consume him with my mouth. Seeing someone else touch him has awoken a beast inside me I didn’t even know existed. The need to claim him just as thoroughly as he claimed me in the elevator is a drug in my system. I suck on his tongue before going to his neck and bruising him with my lips and hands.
“Are you marking me,vipera?” he asks, voice low and seductive.
“In no world where I live will anyone not know you’re mine, Dante Ventura. I don’t share.”
He groans before an annoying smirk takes over. “Not even with your darling lyosha?”
The question throws me off, but I don’t let him see it. I take hold of his jaw and kiss him again, whimpering when he thrusts his hips up. The soft fabric of his trousers is the only thing separating us but as much as I want him to fuck me senseless, I want to be in control more. His question is too close to my secrets for comfort.
I slide down and drop to my knees in between Dante’s thick thighs, opening the buttons of the jacket and letting him peek enough of my body to entice him. My fingers deftly remove his belt as we lock eyes, nothing but pure carnal desire in between us. And a spark of something else I will ignore for now.
Dante lifts his hips enough for me to drag his trousers and boxers down and release his engorged cock. It’s unfair how thick and pretty it is. And how much I want to suck his soul out of it, make sure he thinks of little else but me on my knees for him, taking him all down my throat.
The skin is velvet smooth in my hands. Just like the first time at our wedding, which seems ages ago, I’m the one with the power and he knows it. Yet the submissive act of being on my knees and worshipping him makes me feel dizzy with lust.
I lick his slit, tasting the masculine essence of him, and he hisses.
I pout, then smirk. “What’s wrong,dorogoy?”
“What’s wrong is that I’m about to come ridiculously fast and I want to be buried in my wife’s mouth when I do it, but the snake is taking her time.”
His admission sends a wave of liquid heat through my blood, and has the desired effect. I take the head of his cock into my mouth, wrapping my lips around and sucking lightly while my hands cover the rest. Twisting, sucking and releasing. A few times over until Dante pants above me, his eyes ablaze with the need to come.
His fists clench by his sides before he clamps a hand behind my neck and threads thick fingers through my hair. The pinpricks of pain at my scalp fuels my greed for him. I need more. I want more. I deserve more. A needy whimper escapes my lips.
“You like it, don’t you,vipera? Being a perfect cockslut for the man you pretend to hate?”
My eyes roll back at his filthy words and I take more of him down my throat, gagging on his thick cock on my way down before coming up for air. But he doesn’t let me.
I snake a hand between my thighs where arousal drips down along my heated skin, and flick in tight circles. Dante chuckles darkly and the ominous sound will haunt my nightmares.
“Such a cock hungry slut. Who knew someone so cold would burn so fucking bright. Come on,sposa mia, be a good little whore and make yourself come while you choke on my dick.”
I’ve always been cold as a way to protect myself. Not that I can retort with my mouth full. Yet, Dante’s words aren’t ones that are meant to hurt and insult. There’s an edge of awe at being the one to witness the ice I’ve barricaded myself behind thaw.
I let the nails of my free hand rake on his thigh until he hisses in pain and I feel wetness underneath my fingers.
Letting go of his cock with a loud pop, I lick the bloody nails, the metallic taste bursting on my tongue. “Insult me again and see where it gets you,dorogoy,” I threaten.
But I should know my husband isn’t easily intimidated, especially not by me. Dante laughs whole heartedly like I delight him. Then he kisses me, slanting his mouth over mine and tasting his own blood on my lips. “You’re insane. I love it,” he breathes as he tucks himself in. “Come on, we’re home.”
The door opens and cold air seeps through, making me shiver. When I get out of the car, Dante swoops me off my feet, bridal style, his trousers undone, looking disheveled with no care for decorum.
“Someone’s gonna see my arse!” I squeak.
“Look down,” he yells. “Anyone looks at my wife, they’ll be dead by morning.”
Everyone obeys and I giggle at the menace in his voice and the power he wields before I can catch myself. Dante’s mirrored smile is blinding. “Shecanlaugh.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
