Page 240 of Corrupted Kingdom

He was panting, hard, on his knees in front of me, and I saw the way he kept glancing at my bare pussy as he stroked his cock in his fist.

‘You taste so fucking good,’ he murmured around my fingers. ‘So fucking good.’

I stopped abruptly, and Dornan’s eyes widened, as if I’d broken the spell. Bullshit, I thought. I slid my hand into his short hair and pulled, bringing his face right up to mine.

But I didn’t kiss him.

‘Make me come with your tongue,’ I demanded. ‘Only your tongue. You want me to forgive you? You’d better start by making me feel good.’

My voice was suddenly thick with emotion. Why? Why now?

Maybe because, after ten years, I was finally starting to take some goddamn responsibility for my own fate. In the beginning I’d needed Dornan’s brutality, I’d needed his domination, but now I needed his submission, his reparation. I needed his desire to soothe me, to beg my forgiveness.

With my hand in his hair, I pushed his head down between my thighs.

His eyes gleamed up at me, full of lust, inexplicably calm. It was as if, by taking charge of the dynamic we shared, he was momentarily relieved.

‘I might be yours on paper, but this pussy belongs to me now, you understand?’

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

DORNAN

Her dark blue eyes gleamed with conviction, simmered with anger as she stared down at him. In her rage, she was absolutely stunning.

‘This body is mine,’ she whispered to him. ‘It was yours, Dornan, and you did what you did, and it’s not yours anymore. If you want it back? You earn it. You earn my love. You earn your place inside my cunt. You earn my fucking mouth around your cock.’

He nodded, breaking their stare, his eyes sliding down her beautiful tits, her stomach, before coming to rest upon her sweet cunt. He stilled for a moment, breathing in the scent of her.

He licked his lips, pressing the flat of his tongue against her swollen bundle of nerves.

‘Fuck!’ she exclaimed, her fingers pulling his hair to the point of pain. He didn’t care. He liked pain, especially with sex. The two belonged together. Pain and fucking. But, as he licked her he was gentle. She’d suffered too much because of him, felt too much pain, and it was time for him to reel it the fuck in and crawl his way back to her side. She was his now, legally, but she was broken. His bird was broken. And it was up to him to fix her.

‘You worship me,’ she moaned, as he sucked her clit into his mouth. ‘You make me believe in you again. You– Oh!’ She ground herself against his mouth desperately. ‘You make me remember why I fucking love you so much, Dornan. You’re the fucking kingpin in of all this– oh, fuck! And you just made me your . . . queen. You just tattooed my status on my skin. It’s time to start treating me like a fucking queen.’

And this time, when she came against his tongue, he didn’t try to cover her mouth or muffle her noises. There was no reason to silence his queen. No, as she cried out and writhed under his tongue, he revelled in the sweet noise of her unsuppressed joy, her exhilaration, as he sucked in a final breath and squeezed his cock, coming violently against his thigh.

* * *

The next morning, Viper called him. His LAPD contact had done some digging and found the call logs for Mariana’s secret cellphone. The contents of which were very interesting indeed.

She was still sleeping peacefully, out cold, when Dornan took the call in the hallway and then came back into the room. Seemed he and his new wife had some talking to do.

That was, if he didn’t kill her first.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

MARIANA

My hand hurt.

The pain had extended beyond my ring finger and my entire hand was just throbbing now. It pounded with the rhythm of my heart, relentless, nauseating. It wasn’t physically that painful, per se, but it was knowing it was there, wanting to rip it off with my fingernails but knowing I couldn’t. Laser removal was in my future, assuming I survived being the wife of California’s most notorious biker and the daughter-in-law of the most lethal drug kingpin of the entire Gulf.

I saw a dirt grave in my future, too.

I’d fallen asleep in my dress, my make-up still caked on. My eyes itched from the clumped mascara, and concealer streaked my pillow. I was beyond caring. Try washing blood out of a pillowcase and then come talk to me about a few smears of liquid make-up.

I sat up in the bed – the large, downy, luxurious bed – and immediately lay down again as the room began to circle me viciously. The vodka. The lack of food. The reminder that Dornan and I were married.

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