Page 18 of Thorns of Love
“And how do–” She stopped, the look in her eyes full of stubbornness and indignation. “You goddamned stalker.”
It was time to teach my wife her first lesson.
EIGHT
TATIANA
My expression was murderous.
Sometimes a villain turns into a hero. Like my brothers. That will never be the case with him.
Fucking ever!
Somehow it didn’t surprise me that the fucker was my stalker but the knowledge still managed to piss me off. The silence that followed was almost suffocating but also charged with so much sexual frustration that I could just touch myself and get off within a fraction of a second.
Nothing beats whiplash like two completely opposite types of feelings - kill him or sleep with him. Well, honestly, I had to admit to myself that there wouldn’t be much sleeping going on.
He removed the top from the tray and the smell of food drifted through the air, making my stomach promptly growl. At Sasha’s reception I couldn’t stomach anything due to the smell of meat. But true to Illias’ words, he only had foods that agreed with me - fruits, veggies, crackers, vegetable based soup.
Without asking, he made me a plate with a little bit of everything and set it in front of me. Then he did the same for himself. We ate in silence, Illias vigorously typing on his phone and not giving me time of day.
“I’d like my phone back,” I said, breaking the silence. He had taken my little clutch when he snuck up behind me.
He barely spared me a glance. “We’ll see,” he answered cryptically.
Anger boiled inside me and I clenched my teeth so hard, my jaw hurt. I forced myself to take a deep breath then slowly released it. I’d have to be smart if I was to win my battles with him. So instead of arguing with him, I threw a fresh carrot into my mouth, relishing in the crunching sounds of it as I chewed it and imagining crushing my husband the same way.
But not to murder him. The idea of Illias dead didn’t sit well with me. Maybe he’d get on his knees and beg me to forgive all his offenses. Yes, I liked that. Him on his knees.
Immediately another image followed and this one was a lot more X-rated. Suddenly the dress felt too heavy. My thighs clenched and to my horror, arousal rushed through me, drenching my panties. I rubbed my thighs together, shifting my hips, which only made it worse.
Or better. Depending how you looked at it.
A tiny moan slipped and Illias’ eyes snapped up to me. His eyes gazed down my body and the warmth of it seared through the material as if he’d touched me.
“Did you eat enough,moya luna?”
I shouldn’t cave into this carnal desire. This damn lust was bound by thorns that would eventually make me bleed. But I found myself nodding and the next thing I knew, he lifted me up and carried me to the back of the plane like it was the threshold of his home.
He placed me down on the bed almost reverently. I watched him yank his jacket off his broad shoulders and throw it on the nearby loveseat. His cufflinks followed. Then he unbuttoned his shirt and, with each flick of a button, more and more of his muscular chest came into full view.
Goddamn him, his chest was ripped and his abdomen cut making my mouth water. His physical beauty drew you in until you were so deep inside his web, you couldn’t get out. It should be illegal to be so damn hot.
I could blame all this attraction to him on my hormones, but deep down I knew it wasn’t. I shamelessly watched as he removed his belt, then discarded his pants and socks, leaving him only in silky black boxers.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
“I don’t like you ordering me,” I said dryly but I was already halfway to obeying him.
The sound of the zipper filled the back of the plane in a seductive echo, sending maddening anticipation through my veins. God, I had never wanted sex so much in my entire life. And I wasn’t the shy nor reserved type. Sex with this man - my husband - was on an entirely different level.
He pulled my dress off my body, leaving me in heels and my undergarments. The latter was soon ripped off my body and discarded right along with the wedding dress, but when I moved to kick off my heels, he stopped me.
“Keep them on.” The deep rasp of his voice and that Russian accent liquified my insides.
He wrapped both hands around my waist and pulled me up onto my hands and knees, his warm body against my back. When he put distance between us, I glanced over my shoulder to find him discarding his boxers.
He was fully erect already, precum glistening at the tip of his cock. His fingers wrapped around his cock while his eyes were locked on my backside.
