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With my mother’s approval, even from beyond the grave, my heart fluttered. I leaned in and rubbed my cheek against Cristiano’s. “It’s a nice thought, padre,” I said. “One day. We have time.”
Cristiano was uncharacteristically silent on the subject. He had only one thing left to say as he patted the outside of my hip. “Go on to bed—I’ll be up shortly. Your father and I have business downstairs.”
Business was all I needed to hear.
The time to eat, drink, and be merry had passed. Now was the time to kill.
18
Cristiano
Maybe it was all the time I’d spent on farms today that’d turned me into an animal tonight. Maybe it was weeks of sleeping by Natalia and thinking of nothing but all the ways I wanted to take her. Or years of wondering about her life—if she’d flourished or had resorted to simply existing following Bianca’s death, and whether she’d still been blindly devoted to my brother or if it was more nostalgia than anything keeping them together.
It didn’t matter. Tonight, I’d embrace the animal. I’d proverbially lain her mother’s murderers at my wife’s feet. I’d slit three more throats in Bianca’s name.
On our bed, gripping Natalia’s hips with more strength than I meant, I pounded into her from behind like a dog mounting his bitch. I’d never been more grateful to have soundproofed a room. I must’ve known I’d end up marrying a screamer.
I wrapped Natalia’s long, dark hair around my wrist and pulled so her head drew back. I liked her from this angle, on her hands and knees, but I missed her face. Especially when it was screwed up in pleasure.
“Faster, harder,” she cried.
Was she serious? I’d never fucked like this in my life. If I went any faster, she’d end up in the next room. If I went any harder, she’d suck up my balls.
I slowed down instead, and after a few deliberate pumps, curved my hand around her ass. “For so long, you treated me like your own personal monster,” I threatened, grabbing a fistful of her ass, “Now, while I’m filling you, I want to hear you say you’re my wife.”
“Or what?”
She wanted to play. So did I. Natalia had poked the beast before, on our wedding night, when I’d bent her over the side of my bed and threatened to wreck her. Her pussy had left a wet spot on the tip of my dick. Maybe a week later, I’d given her a chicken dinner when I’d jammed El Gallo down her throat—and she’d cleaned her plate. She possessed a darkness that extended into the bedroom. Lucky for me.
“Say you’re my wife, or I’ll spank your ass.”
She bit her bottom lip and deliberately didn’t respond.
I forced myself to withdraw from her, painful as it was to lose her warm, wet heat.
My palm landed with a sharp slap on the outer curve of one cheek, and she gasped. The shock on her face alone was enough to make my dick jump. I kneaded the meat of her ass, then lined up my hand in the same exact spot.
She dropped from her hands to her forearms, pressing her head into the mattress.
“Get back up,” I said.
“And if I want more?”
Beautiful. I spanked her twice with enough precision and force to make it sting. After a moment, my handprint bloomed on her skin. Maybe that was what I should’ve tattooed on her, because I’d never seen anything so fucking hot.
Or had I?
I lined up my throbbing head to her wet slit and thrust inside her. Her answering moan was almost as sweet as her candy pussy. Now that my cock filled her up, my handprint looked even better.
I took her elbows and pulled her upright. We both groaned at the new angle. I was fucking deep now. I kept her arms in a firm hold, using them as leverage to drive into her. “You’re trapped now, eh? This greedy little pussy belongs to me. Say it.”
She arched her back, dropping her head onto my shoulder. “It’s so . . .”
“So what?” Buried to the root, I nudged her cervix with a few short thrusts, and her tits bounced toward the ceiling.
“Is it possible to feel it in my stomach?”
I could see her better now. I wanted her mouth, her exquisite eyes on mine, and to see her delicate features shatter with her orgasm. “You’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” I captured her earlobe between my teeth. “But if you don’t call yourself my wife, I’m going to come in you and stay there until there’s no question you’ll get pregnant.”
She shuddered. In so little time, I’d come to known that specific tremor as the first quakes of her climax. “I don’t want your baby.”
“I don’t care.” I circled my hands around neck, pulling her back against me. “Look at me and say it.”
