Page 18 of Until Retribution Burns (Beauty in Lies 3)

"When I tell you to open your fucking mouth, you do it,wife," he growled, all traces of everything soft and gentle gone from his face as he twisted my hair harshly enough to make me gasp. Using the opportunity to pull me toward his cock, his head slid over the tip of my tongue. I turned my eyes up to his to find him staring down at me as if daring me to do something as foolish as bite him.

I opened wider, letting him surge inside with a snap of his hips until he filled my mouth completely and nudged my throat. Drawing back and repeating the motion, he held my gaze as he used my mouth ruthlessly. Each relentless press of him brought tears to my eyes, and I knew from the heat blazing in his gaze that he loved seeing them.

He'd broken me, turning me into his nightmare. I hollowed my cheeks, sucking as he pulled back until only his head remained inside my mouth. "Fucking hell," he groaned, shoving deep and staying planted at my throat. The tears built as he increased the pressure, giving me no choice but to swallow around him and accept him even deeper. His strokes inside me were short, the angle of his shaft tipping up, making it more difficult for him to glide further down my throat.

He groaned his frustration, tearing free from my mouth suddenly as he lifted me out of the chair, turned me, and planted me onto my knees on the cushion. Flipping my dress up over my ass, he shoved my panties down my legs and drove inside me without warning.

There had been a time when I would’ve been horrified to admit how wet I was from the feeling of his cock in my mouth and nothing else, but all I could do as he drove deep was cry out. "Rafael!" I shouted, wincing when his hand came down on my ass.

The skin stung, a reminder of the time he'd done worse with a riding crop as he continued to fuck me. That memory would always be a bitter mix of sex and pain, knowing that what came next had seared my flesh and left me marked with his name in a permanent and irreversible way that he seemed determined to repeat as often as possible.

Just as the imprint of his ownership on my soul was everlasting.

He reached out one of his hands to press against the side of my head, pinning me on the cushion as he took what he wanted from my body. It didn't matter if it hurt, or if it left me feeling wrung out and used, because we'd both enjoy every second of it.

I slid a hand over my belly, touching the bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs and working the flesh to add pleasure to the violence of his drives inside me. My body shook with the sudden orgasm that consumed me, convulsing as he continued to fuck me as if he hated me.

I knew better, knew it was a physical release for the stress of the last few days. And as much as I hated that I had to bear the consequences of another's actions, I couldn't deny that I needed the pain.

It grounded me. It reminded me that no matter what had happened, Rafael's father hadn't torn us apart before we could ever come to be.

Heat flooded me as Rafael came inside me, pressing his hand against my lower back to hold me still as his length throbbed against the end of me.

When he pulled out of me and tucked himself back into his pants, he shifted me so that I stood and claimed my seat for himself. I was still half-disoriented as he tugged my panties back up to my waist and smoothed my dress down to cover me. Pulling me into his lap, he let me curl my head into his shoulder and held me.

The intercom sounded as he called the attendant, the sound feeling like it happened in another part of the world. My body thrummed with the aftermath of pleasure as my brain tried to wrap around my surroundings.

It wasn't until the attendant emerged into the main cabin that I fully understood what he'd done, inviting another person into the very room where he'd only just finished fucking me.

His cum was still inside me as he spoke to the attendant, requesting a glass of white zinfandel. I flushed beet red, burying my face further into his neck. The cabin smelled like sex, and if that hadn't been obvious enough, my disheveled appearance would have been. The attendant left us to go fetch the drinks he'd requested, and I groaned into his chest as he laughed at my discomfort.

"How could you bring her in here?" I scolded. "Sheknowswe just had sex."

"I fail to see the problem with that," he grunted, his hand running through my hair in a gentle soothing motion that was such a sharp contrast to the fact that I wanted to fucking stab him again.

Where was that fork?

"Maybe I don't want everyone to know things like that," I hissed, pulling back from his chest to stare down at him. His leg was firm beneath my ass, the muscles in his thigh so hard they should have been uncomfortable.

"You're my wife." He grinned. "I think it is safe to say that everyone knows we have sex."

I groaned, burying my hand in my face as the woman returned with my wine and handed it to me quickly before scurrying off. "You made her uncomfortable."

"No, you being uncomfortable made her uncomfortable. You have no reason to be ashamed of the fact that I cannot keep my hands off you," he murmured, leaning forward to run his nose up the side of mine. He ran his thumb over the bandage covering his name, the light touch making the wound throb. “How does it feel?”

“How do you think it feels?” I asked with a roll of my eyes. Only Rafe could literally carve his name into me and then ask how I felt.

“I think it feels like you’re mine.” He shrugged, removing his hand from the wound as if the pain it might have caused me was inconsequential. Even with the dull ache that accompanied the wounds and the memory of the blinding white hot pain slicing through me, I knew he’d gone far easier on me than he had himself. His wounds were deeper than mine would ever be, cut through his flesh as deeply as he could manage without causing permanent damage to the muscle.

Shifting me to the side slowly so I could balance my wine, he grabbed his phone off the table in front of us as if the subject was settled in his mind.

When he typed in a password that was different than his, I stared at the home screen with a photo of a fork for the background in shock. Rafael's phone was filled with apps, but this one looked new out of the box. It was identical to the sleek and expensive one I'd seen him using otherwise in every way. He handed it to me, letting me take it from his grip as I shifted the wine to my other hand. "There will undoubtedly be times when we are separated in Chicago. I'm sure you will spend time with your family while I'm looking for answers in places that you cannot come," he said, and it sank in that he was really, truly trusting me with a phone of my own.

I hadn't had one since he'd knocked mine off the balcony in Ibiza, and I swallowed back the meaning of the moment as emotion clogged my throat. Had we reached the point in our relationship where he trusted me not to leave?

How had we gotten here so quickly?

"This is mine?" I asked, even though the answer was obvious. I needed the words and the reassurance they would give me, that maybe, just maybe, we could find a way to some kind of normalcy.

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