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I reach between us and press in, just until I can feel evidence her innocence, then roughly jack my cock a couple of times, releasing more of my sticky wetness inside of her. “Please stop,” she whispers, so soft that I barely hear her, drawing my eyes to where her pale face is pressed into the coverlet of my bed. I never want to tell her no. I want to do what she asks, but I can’t. I'm lost in the feeling of her core squeezing me. She is so wet, so hot, so damn tight. She is mine. Fuck! Fuck! MINE! I should stop...
The darkness takes over. My desire to possess her, to own her, clouding my mind as I grasp her hips in a punishing grip and roughly pull her back onto my shaft, impaling her on my rigid flesh. A scream tears from her throat and I roar at how tight and perfect she feels surrounding me. Fully seated in her I savor the feeling.
I can feel her legs stiffening and thrashing against mine, and I only hold her tighter, thrusting into her hard, over and over, as she shudders beneath me. Her struggles stop as she collapses onto the bed beneath my much larger form. With a loud groan that feels torn from my soul, I thrust once more, pressing my cock tight against her womb as waves of cum explode out of it. I have never climaxed so hard or for so long in my life. It feels like hours go by while I pump my shaft into her, until every last drop of my orgasm fills her. It’s akin to being reborn as hers.
Pulling my still hard length from her body I try to catch my breath and watch as my cum slips from her body and trickles down the inside of her thighs. It is so damn sexy. My cock twitches in response, seeing proof of my possession fires my blood and I want her all over again. Then I see that my cum is mixed with her blood. Seeing it jolts me back to myself completely. Ana was a virgin and instead of making love to her I took her like an animal while she asked me to stop.
I look at her laying there, tiny hands fisted and white-knuckled, twisted in the soft cotton sheets. The expression on her face is worse than a punch to the gut. She is so still and small. There is no color in her usually pink cheeks. Even her lips are almost white. Her eyes are pinched shut, and there are tears streaming from them. The haze of lust clears, and I almost fall to my knees to beg her forgiveness, to hold her in my arms and promise that I will never hurt her again.
Fucking weak! My father's voice echoes in my mind.
I cannot show weakness. Instead, I take a step back and tuck my semi-hard dick back into my tux pants and stride out the door. I’ve never hated myself more than I do in this moment. I deserve to be shot for doing this to her.
She is sobbing before the door fully closes behind me, and I press my back to it and slide down until I’m sitting on the floor. My heart is breaking. I hurt her. I lost control. I think I just raped my bride. My Analise. I really am my father’s son, a total piece of shit like him, and I despise myself for it. For the first time in a decade I allow myself to feel something other than...well mostly nothing. I never feel anything. I am as cold as a block of ice. Cold. Hard. Unless I’m around her. She is my warmth, my sunshine. But right now, sitting on the floor outside my bedroom, I let myself feel the torture of every muffled sound coming from the room I just left. Each one is like knives in my brain, in my heart. I didn’t marry her so I could hurt her. I only want her to love me. I have wanted to be near her since the very first moment I saw her. Her sunny smile and happy laugh are unlike anything I’d ever witnessed in my life. I wanted to be her friend, but the age difference between us made that impossible. So I went about my life, doing what I needed to do, but as she got older I found that I craved nothing but her sweet voice, that laughter, to have her smile at me.
I’ve ruined everything now. I will never have more than the few hours after the wedding, when her smile and her laughter were mine.
She had only been slightly uncomfortable around me before today, and I have no reason to believe that has changed. The only thing that had lowered her inhibitions with me today was the champagne that she consumed. There is no way that I’m anything but her worst nightmare now… at least we have that in common.
I am my own worst nightmare...I have turned out identical to my father.
She will never smile for me again. How could she? Knowing that feels like a death sentence, but I can't let her go. I know I should release her from the vows we made. I'm a greedy bastard though. I don't want to give her up now that I have her in my home. In my bed. Somehow I have to make things right. I just don’t know if that will be possible. I don’t even know where to start.
“I'm sorry sunshine. I'm so, so sorry.” My voice startles me, I didn't intend to say it out loud, but the wetness on my cheeks is even more shocking. I haven't cried since I was 10 and dragged, crying, away from my weeping mother and sent away to boarding school. She was dead before I was brought home for Thanksgiving that fall. It was supposed to be a secret, but I quickly discovered how she had died… at my father’s hand. I never forgave him, and I will never forgive myself.
I may not have killed Analise, but I’m certain that I have killed any chance of her ever being happy with me. I don't deserve it. I don’t deserve her.
Analise
Faintly, I hear him apologizing from the other side of the door. The last thing that I expected was an apology, even if he isn't saying it to me. Rising to my feet on wobbly legs I struggle to rid myself of my now ruined wedding dress. The delicate fabric is torn at the seams from Xavier’s rough treatment. I’m not sure how things got out of hand so fast. We were flirting and having a surprisingly good time. I know that the addition of alcohol helped with that. I suppose that it could also be blamed for what just happened.
Xavier has been gracious towards me in the few days since I moved in and joined his household. I laugh bitterly. Joined his household. What bullshit. I wish I knew the real reason why I’m here. Why Xavier wanted to marry me. Dad never tells me much about anything that relates to the Cerelli’s and what his role in the organization is, but I know that somehow he is benefiting from this debacle. He gave me away for some reason, and I guess my part to play in the whole thing is as Xavier’s legitimate piece of ass, with a side order of docile wife.
That isn’t ever going to happen! I won’t allow it! I will never find any purpose in life if all I am is a trophy wife. I want more than that for myself. I want to be happy. I want to be loved, and I won’t give up the chance to have it. Not even for Xavier.
For the first time since leaving New York and coming to Vegas with my dad, I’m regretting my decision. Vince is a low-level member of the Cerelli family. Extremely low level. When Xavier, Sr. died, his brother Dominic went back to New York to take the reins. Xavier, the heir of the family, moved out to Vegas, taking a small number of men with him. Since dad was one of them… I went along. There are good waitressing jobs in Vegas, so I figured why not?
Not that I will be working as Mrs. Xavier Cerelli. I was informed that my notice at the casino had already been put in by Margot, the head housekeeper, while she was helping me get ready for the wedding this morning. None of it makes any sense to me. I came home from work, and all of my belongings were gone. Dad told me that I was moving up to the penthouse, but refused to tell me anything else while he escorted me there. It was Xavier who explained to me over d
inner that first night that we would be married in a few days. After that, I worked those last few days soaking up what was left of my normal life, and every evening I sat at the far end of the long table in confused silence while we ate together. He was polite. Kind even, but what a mess! This isn’t what I wanted for myself.
My whole body aches. Especially between my legs. Part of me wants to take a bath before I climb into bed and sleep so that I can wake up in the morning and find that this has all been nothing more than a totally bizarre dream. The more logical side of me knows I’m not dreaming and that I should find something to wear then go find something to eat. I haven’t eaten anything but cake and champagne since Margot brought me breakfast this morning, but that was so long ago. Another life really. I was a different person when I woke up.
I still can hardly believe that I’m married. To the most beautiful man, I have ever laid eyes on. The man who just ripped my virginity from my body so roughly, then apologized for it from outside the door. If he is sorry why not come back and talk to me?
I don’t know how to feel. I am so angry, but also sad and feeling betrayed and robbed… I know I should focus on the anger. I would have willingly given him what he took, that is the thing that makes me the angriest. Hell, I practically did when I climaxed on his fingers. It was so good too. For a few minutes, I forgot all my questions and was going to let it happen naturally. I believed that we were on the same page.
I should have known better.
I shouldn’t have expected any gentleness from Xavier Cerelli. He’s a monster. A cold, emotionless, ruthless man. At least that is what everyone says about him. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to imagine that he looks at me with something soft in his eyes. I was fooling myself. Imagining something that doesn't exist. Vince has told me for years that Xavier is as bad as his father was, and no one ever crossed the elder Mr. Cerelli and lived to talk about it. The scariest thing, I have had more than one person (yes, my dad and his friends) in the Cerelli “family” tell me that Xavier is even worse than his father. That he is completely detached from everything and everyone. A man with very few friends. One who has never been with a woman for more than just one night. A truly solitary man.
My sore body and dark thoughts ruin my appetite, so I decide on taking a bath over making my way to the kitchen. I don’t want to leave the sanctuary of this room and risk bumping into Xavier anyway. Slowly, I shuffle toward the bathroom wincing from the tender ache between my legs. Maybe I shouldn’t have saved myself for marriage after all. It’s almost ironic how the “gift” I had been saving for this day was taken by my groom with no regard for it when I had always imagined tenderness and magic.
No one but me will ever know that I always imagined Xavier as my groom. Freaking magic.
Whatever.
I roll my eyes at my stupid daydreams. My fantasies feel juvenile in the aftermath of being fucked boneless by what must have been the biggest cock ever. Not that I’ve seen many or even one in person, but I did watch porn once when I was in high school. I wanted to figure out what everyone else already seemed to know. I touched myself experimentally for the first time ever thinking about him while I watched the images on my computer screen and wondering what he looked like when he was doing those things with a girl… woman, since by then he was no longer a boy.
