Page 36 of Sinful Bride

I turn on the vibrator. It hums to life quietly, but the sound seems impossibly loud in the silence of the room.

I press it against myself through the silk, and the sensation is immediate and shockingly intense. My hips jerk involuntarily, and I have to bite my lip to keep from making noise. I feel a rush of arousal, pleasure sparking over every nerve, and I press my free hand over my mouth to muffle the gasp that escapes.

God. It feels so good. As good as when Declan⁠—

Absolutely fucking not.

I close my eyes and try to focus on just the sensation. Not on any particular fantasy or image or person. Just the feeling of the vibrator against me, the pleasure building, the tension coiling tighter in my belly. God, it’s good… I can feel the muscles in my legs trembling. I’m going to come quickly if I can just not get in my own head…

But my mind betrays me.

I see Declan and feel his hands on me on our wedding night, the way his fingers felt inside me, stroking and curling and finding places I didn't know existed. He smelled so good, felt so strong, so big and masculine, like he could overpower me if he wanted, but he didn’t. He wanted me begging instead.

Please.

The word echoes in my head, and I press the vibrator harder against myself, chasing the release I need that will make this ache go away and let me sleep. That will let me stop thinking about him and wanting him and needing him.

I imagine his hands on my thighs, spreading them wider. His mouth on me, his tongue licking and sucking, driving me insane. His fingers inside me, filling me, stretching me, making me come so hard I see stars.

My breathing gets faster. My hips move against the vibrator, seeking more pressure, more friction, more⁠—

The bedroom door opens.

I freeze, my eyes flying open, my hand still between my legs, the vibrator still humming against me through my pajamas.

Declan stands in the doorway. He's wearing jeans and nothing else, his hair disheveled like he's been running his hands through it. His eyes are dark and dangerous… and fixed on what I'm doing.

"I—" My voice won't work. I can't move. I just lie there frozen, with the vibrator still humming against me through my pajamas, my face burning with shame and arousal and fury at being caught.

He steps into the room and closes the door behind him. "What are you doing, Elena?"

I finally manage to move, pulling my hand away and turning off the vibrator. "Get out!" I snap, hissing the words. My body feels tight with how close I was. I’m so wet I can feel that the silk between my thighs is damp. I’ve soaked through my panties and my silk pajama pants, and my face heats even further.

"I don't think so." He moves closer, and I scramble to sit up and put distance between us, but there's nowhere to go. "I heard something and came to check on you. And what do I find?"

"Nothing. I was just⁠—"

"Just what?" He's at the edge of the bed, looking down at me with furious, lustful anger. "Just taking care of yourself because you're too proud to ask me for what you need?"

"I don't need anything from you."

"Liar." He holds out his hand. "Give it to me."

"What?"

"The vibrator. Give it to me."

"No." I clutch it tighter, feeling exposed and furious. "It's mine. You can't just⁠—"

He moves faster than I expect. One moment he's standing at the edge of the bed, the next he's on it, his hand closing around my wrist. His grip is firm—not painful, but impossible to break. "Let go, Elena."

"No."

His grip tightens slightly. "Let. Go."

I hold on for another moment, but I know I can't win this. Not physically. Not when he's so much stronger than me. And worse still, his hand around my wrist makes my pulse race and my body heat. My pussy is throbbing, and I feel like I can’t breathe. My resistance crumbles.

I release the vibrator, and he takes it from my hand.