Page 22 of Wedlocked

My emotions were already fragile, but they boiled over when I glowered at him. I wanted to fight him, to lash out and hurt him like I was hurting. Our fake wedding had only exacerbated all my rawness inside. “Make me!”

“Oh, I will make you,” he growled, and unsnapping his seatbelt he sat astride my lap, his thick, muscled thighs trapping me in place while his head swooped low and his mouth covered mine in a kiss that dominated, conquered. Except I wanted to be dominated and conquered, I wanted to feed the sexual tension between us until I forgot about everything but this lust that consumed us both.

I was panting when he finally drew back and pushed down my gown’s lacy straps, exposing my breasts. My nipples instantly hardened under his heated gaze.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, cupping both my breasts and pinching my nipples. I gasped at the pleasure-pain knifing through me, and he leaned down to kiss away the sting on first one nipple, then the other, flicking his tongue over each one before sucking and laving.

Sparks of electricity danced through me, making me squirm and so damn hot I no longer cared about anything but having Ethan get me off. But then he pushed my straps back up my arms, covering my quivering breasts and making me gape at him in distress. “What are you doing?”

His dark chuckle slid through my body like a drug. “Relax, wife. I’m about to give you what you want…what you need.”

He climbed off me and crouched on the floor in front of the seat, then pushed my wedding gown up to my waist before dragging my panties down and spreading my legs wide. My head dropped back and I closed my eyes, waiting in suspense for his clever mouth to send me to heaven.

He didn’t disappoint.

By the time we arrived at his house, I’d had multiple orgasms, thanks to his talented mouth and practiced hands. I was physically drained and yet floating on cloud nine, while he sported a hard-on that left me vacillating between effusive need and more than a little fear. His cock was full to bursting. He wouldn’t be holding himself back later tonight.

The vehicle slowed in front of the mansion’s circular driveway, where clipped shrubbery outlined the centerpiece garden. The sun was already sliding down toward the distant horizon, and I sucked in a breath at the realization our wedding day was already nearly over.

Such a momentous day, an important milestone meant to be celebrated, had all but rushed by me. Possibly because I’d been in a state of shock for most of the day.

“Ready to face the wolves?” Ethan—my husband—asked with twisted lips that made his scar more pronounced.

It was strange how little I noticed his disfigurement, if one could call it that. If anything it just added to his dangerous magnetism, his alluring charisma. He was no boy, he’d probably became a man well before he’d grown out of his teenage years. He didn’t need scars to show his hardship, his eyes told their own story. Inflexible. Hardened. Potent. Intense.

Despite all that, or perhaps, because of all that, he was everything I wanted in a man and more.

The driver opened my door and I climbed out with Ethan right behind me. A man approached from under the shelter of a portico, and I soon realized it was the MC for our reception. His smile was broad in his round, flushed face, his suit a size too small for his portly body.

“Congratulations to the bride and groom. You make a truly magnificent couple.” His smile turned to Salvatore and Isabella as they alighted from the other stretch limousine and joined us. “If you wouldn’t all mind waiting just outside the doors leading into the lower level, you’ll hear me introduce your names so everyone will get the chance to cheer as you enter the reception area.”

Isabella’s eyes sparkled while Salvatore stayed mute and rigid.

Ethan nodded. “You have two minutes to make the announcements.”

The man bobbed his head and wiped the sheen from his brow with a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. “Of course. I’ll see you inside.” He pivoted and hurried back to the house even as Ethan turned to me and reached for my hand. “Ready?”

“How do you expect her to ever be ready for this…farce of a marriage?” Salvatore growled.

“Oh, lighten up,” Isabella scolded. “Are you trying to ruin their big day?”

I had no words of reassurance for my brother. What could I say? That my marriage was based on love? He’d see straight through that lie. Everyone knew our marriage was based on vengeance thanks to my family killing Ethan’s brother. Not to mention the power play Ethan would use to his advantage thanks to me being the daughter of his biggest rival.

Then there was the fact I’d been caught spying in the Agostino home. If I hadn’t been so reckless I wouldn’t be in this predicament now. The whole marriage thing was my own stupid fault. “I’m ready,” I finally said.

The four of us stepped under the portico just as the MC’s voice echoed through the double doors. Two of Ethan’s soldiers swung the doors open as the speaker introduced Isabella and Salvatore. Only once they’d entered reception did the MC add grandly, “And now let’s give a huge welcome to our bride and groom, newlyweds Ethan and Sabrina Agostino!”

My throat dried to parchment at hearing my newly acquired surname, one that had long been associated as my enemy. I managed to plaster a smile on my face as we walked under an arbor adorned with white orchids and red roses, and a whole lot of fizzing sparklers—were they hoping my gown would catch alight?—while deafening applause and cheers greeted us.

Ethan put a protective arm around me and drew me quickly through the arbor, my heart finally settling into a normal tempo until I looked up at the room filled with tables and staring guests.

I managed to block out all the strangers and instead focused on each of the many tables that seated eight guests. Squat silver candles flickered behind frosted glass holders, while white orchids and red roses lay in the middle of each table entwined with greenery. In one corner a small table with a white lace cloth featured a beautifully frosted, three-tiered cake dressed in the same flowered theme, while in the other corner a band had been set up on a raised platform that was their stage.

Ethan escorted me to the bridal table, where my brother and Isabella stood waiting. It wasn’t until we were all seated that the wait-staff immediately appeared with bottles of expensive champagne. After pouring the liquid gold into our glasses, they discreetly disappeared to fill up the guests’ glasses while the MC began his marriage speech about the clearly besotted bride and groom.

I lifted my glass and downed half its contents, the bubbles sliding down my throat and settling in my empty stomach with a warm glow. I needed fortification if I was to act the part of a blushing bride.

The MC droned on about Ethan first, and I learned a little more about my husband. How he’d topped his classes in every subject before he’d gone on and excelled in his bachelor of business degree, among others. His achievements made my rebellion against my home studies look silly and childish. But then he’d hadn’t been locked away like a golden egg, he’d had freedom to choose his destiny, at least until his eldest brother had been shot and killed, forcing him next into line of don.

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