Page 24 of His Wife

My heart tightens, and I scrape my courage together so I can take a step back, needing to break the spell his touch has over me. “Am I your wife?” I ask, keeping my eyes pinned on his. “Or am I just like the other women at your club? A woman you can fuck whenever you want? A woman whose only purpose is to spread her legs for you when your dick is hard?”

His eyes flare, and he’s on his feet, towering over me, a magnificent force that has me fearing and desiring him at the same time. “If you were one of the women at my clubs, you’d be locked in a cage, legs spread and tied to the bars so I can look at your pussy while another sucks my cock.” He takes a threatening step closer, and I’m incapable of moving back. “If you were one of the girls at Myth, all my brothers would be there to watch me fuck and cream your pussy while they come on this pretty little face of yours.” He touches my cheek, and I inhale sharply as he drags his thumb down my lips. “If you were anything like the girls in my employment, I wouldn’t feel the need to slit my brother’s throat simply because I think he’s in love with you.”

My body is shaking, my legs trembling. His touch on my chin might be gentle, but his eyes are wild and expression savage, like he’s about to rip me apart and enjoy every second of it.

Abruptly, he grips my jaw, fingers biting painfully into my flesh, hard blue eyes letting fear tear through me. “You know what I do, our line of business. I am surrounded by naked women almost daily, women who fucking live to please us. So, I would caution you against jealousy, stray, because it’ll drive you crazy and only piss me off.”

I lift my chin underneath his grasp, anger swelling in my chest. “How can you expect something of me when you’re not even capable of doing it yourself?”

His brows furrow, and I wrap my hand around his wrist as his fingers tighten into my cheeks.

“Less than an hour ago you wanted to beat your brother to a pulp because you think he’s in love with me. You just told me you want to slit his throat,” I spit out with puckered lips. “You expect me to not be jealous when naked women surround you every day, yet when a man just looks at me in a way you don’t like, you want to spill blood.”

“Because you are mine.”

“Something no one will ever respect while everyone around here thinks I’m just a stray you picked up off the streets because your dad forced you to take a wife,” I snap. “A wife everyone knows you didn’t want in the first place. No wonder Isaia thinks it’s okay to be in love with me.” It’s a backhanded remark, but I’m too furious to care, too wrapped up in the clusterfuck of emotions wreaking havoc inside me.

His angered gaze studies me, his face so close I can feel his breath on my cheek. “I thought you said he’s not in love with you.”

“According to you and Nicoli, he is.”

“Which is why he needs to get his ass handed to him on a silver fucking platter,” he hisses between his teeth, his top lip curled in a snarl.

“Because I’m your wife?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Am I your wife, Alexius? Or just a way to get your rocks off? A way for you to scratch an itch?” As adrenaline floods my system, I jerk my head free from his grasp and take a step back. “Because if so, you have no right to want to hurt Isaia for wanting what’s yours. If I’m nothing more than your fuck toy, a woman whose jealousy pisses you off, then I swear to God I am not yours and never will be.”

“Oh, but you are,” he grits out. “Whether you want to admit it or not.”

“I’m not naive or stupid. I know how it works here. Women aren’t just wives, they’re possessions. They’re owned. You might think sharing a bed with me, fucking me, having me scream your name between these walls makes me yours, but you’re wrong. Because the only way you’ll ever own me is if I allow it.”

A low groan vibrates from his throat, his gaze pure chaos, and I swear his frame grows taller, his shoulders broader. “If you allow it?” There’s a cruel tenor in his voice that latches on to my spine, keeping me in place. “If you…allow it?”

I swallow hard, trying my best to keep my wits about me. “That’s what I said, and I mean it.”

“No, you don’t.” He stalks closer, forcing me back until I hit the wall and he has me trapped. “Every time you welcome me between your legs,” he cups my sex hard, “it’s proof that you’re mine. Every orgasm I give you, every time you scream my name, and every ounce of cum I pump inside you,” he slips a finger into me, and I moan, “it echoes my ownership over this tight little pussy of yours, and this perfect body that sings like a fucking mockingbird every time I touch you.”

“That doesn’t mean shit,” I counter breathlessly, my rage withering as he finger fucks my defiance out of me.

“Oh, it means everything, stray.” His finger goes deeper. “See, I don’t give a fuck what my brothers or anyone else think when it comes to you and me.”

“Maybe if you did, Isaia wouldn’t have been so quick to remind us that we’ve reached the end of our agreement.”

For a second, he hesitates, stilling his finger inside me, his expression unreadable. His eyes moving along my features as if he’s seeing me for the first time has me holding my breath.

His tongue darts from his mouth, licking his lips, coating them with a tempting sheen, but he doesn’t say a word. All he does is breathe, the tension, our connection pulsing, and I can feel the lie wrap around my throat. My lie. His ownership over me isn’t something I allow. I can’t control it. But neither can he. It just is, and it’s stronger than both of us.

The tension snaps, resounding like a gunshot as our lips collide in a desperate, feverish kiss—our teeth clashing and tongues dueling.

We’re all hands, lips, tongues, and nails, scratching and clawing at each other like savages caught up in a haze of lust.

I moan in protest when he slides a finger out of me and cry out when his cock replaces the emptiness seconds later. His thrusts are deep and fast, our bodies a slapping, sweaty, blissful mess, and I forget everything. Everything but his name, which I say breathlessly as he moves his hips, slamming deeper into me every time. He grabs my ass and pulls me up, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist, my arms steady on his shoulders. We’re caught in a fucking frenzy as he relentlessly pounds his cock into me so hard it hurts. But the pain only makes me want it more. I’m addicted to it. To him.

“You are mine,” he growls. “You.” Thrust. “Are.” Thrust. “Mine.”

I come, and my cries hit the ceiling. “Yours.” That’s what I’m screaming out loud over and over again as my body shakes and quivers around him. “I’m yours.”

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