Page 137 of Vows and Vendettas

“For someone who doesn't like tattoos, your cunt is embarrassingly slick.”

Her squeak has me roaring with dark laughter. Cara wriggles beneath me, and I tease her entrance with my fingers, gathering her wetness and coating my cock in it. She arches, and I take advantage, positioning myself and sinking slowly into her weeping pussy.

The look of terror in her eyes subsides. Her body softens, and she sucks in a pained wheeze when I groan. Gripping her jaw, I pull her face to mine and slam my eyes shut when the need to plough into her dominates me.

“Fuck, relax, doll.” Resistance meets each thrust, and I grin when I realise she’s never been with another man. I had hoped, but Connor neither confirmed nor denied when I mentioned it before the wedding. I force myself to slow down.

Delicate fingers brush up my forearms. Her face contorts in pleasure and a little pain when I slip almost all the way out and then plunge back in.

“Ronan,” she hisses.

Bracing on my knees, I secure her throat in my grasp, and she shakes her head.

“It’ll be good, so fucking good. I promise. You want him gone, don’t you?” Her body goes lax. Accepting. Trusting. I grunt and squeeze gently as I pick up a healthy rhythm and thrust into her. Quiet gasps tangle with the heavy slap of our sticky flesh.

“I’m scared,” she huffs.

“Good, you’ll come harder.” I want to fuck into her like a crazed man, but she’s too tight. Instead, I focus on my fist clenching and pulsing around her throat, her slick heat holding me deep. Her lashes flutter and her body bows as she mewls and erupts, sucking my cock tight. “Fuck!” I rip free and growl as I’m on the verge of coming right there and then.

“I’m sorry.” She holds her small palms up in confusion and fear as I grip my dick like a vice, refusing to come already.

I flip her and pull her ass up and slide the head of my cock along her entrance. “Quit apologising. I’m not your fucking daddy.” I jerk her back onto my cock, and she moans low and dirty. “You like me filling this tight snatch up?”

“I...”

“Who owns this back?” I heave, pumping inside. She freezes, and I slap her ass, enjoying how she flinches. “Who?”

Her pussy squeezes me possessively. “You.”

“Who fills your mind as much as your pussy?”

“You.” Her breathy confession has my balls aching for release.

“Good girl. Now let me soak those scars in my cum.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

CARA

I wake slowly, my body sore and stiff. Yesterday's events rush to the forefront of my mind, causing me to bolt upright. A large hand lands on my shoulder, and I lash out, swinging around and elbowing whoever is behind me. Ronan grunts, and I watch in horror as his lip seeps with blood.

“I’m sorry, I thought…I was—” My throat aches like a fresh bruise throbbing beneath the skin.

“Feral little thing, aren’t you?” He grins. He licks his lip clean and then lets his eyes roam over my body. My back burns with each sweep of his gaze. I reach for my silk gown, but he hauls me back and sighs into my hair. “Don’t,” he hums, hands sliding down my torso. “How sore are you?”

I freeze, my mind replaying every second of him fucking me, how easily he rid my mind of freefalling into terror. How dedicated he was to helping me forget, how quickly he manipulated my body to accommodate him and how pathetically easy it was for him to make me want him.

“Sore.” I swallow roughly, my voice tight. He wanted to consummate this marriage, and we finally did. “Last night. It was…We both know it was a mis—”

“Don’t bother finishing that sentence, Cara. I won’t beg for your attention.” He laughs scathingly. “If you’re going to play it off as a mistake, then feel free to act like a child. I prefer my women to be exactly that. Women,” he spits, rolling away and stalking to the bathroom.

Dammit!

I never wanted to give in so easily to Ronan, or to feel the sharp pinch of guilt for angering him. I don’t know him or what he wants, how his mind works. He was there for me last night, held me as I cried, and then fucked my mind into a blissful void. It may have been for his benefit, but I would be stupid to deny that it helped me, too. I sit for a moment, my body thrumming. Wedding nights are supposed to be magical. I felt like a commodity. I hate to admit that deep down, I want to do it again. It never felt like that when I touched myself.

Pulling my dressing gown on, I walk towards the bathroom and knock. When he doesn’t answer, I step in and the room is already filling with steam.

“Ronan,” I whisper, trying to protect my battered voice. He grunts, so I walk further inside. “Look, I’m sorry, it’s just that I—” He is leaning against the glass, face lowered, fist stroking his erection. Moaning, he widens his gait and rolls his neck and fucks his hand. Dark brown eyes snap open. “I came to say sorry,” I squeak, twisting with the intention of leaving him, but a wet hand grips my wrist.

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