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“Then you are to wear my ring at all times. Is that understood?”
“Yes.”
I kiss her, catching her lips with mine despite how she pushes against me. She gives in another second later, surrendering to my dominant advances. No other choice remains but to surrender. I long ago claimed her as mine. She knows this as much as she knows how to breathe.
The moment she said “I do” was the moment she decided there was no turning back.
’Til death do us part.
My tongue forces its way into her mouth, my arm clenched around her waist, giving her zero room for escape. I kiss her like I’m trying to possess her, and that’s exactly what this is about—possession and power. Power and possession. Me exerting myself over her. For her to know her place as my wife, the woman I love more than life itself.
The woman who drives me borderline insane.
She whines and fists her hands into my crisp dress shirt. As much as she likes to front, Falynn enjoys our games. She likes being dominated, for me to torture her a little. When I make her submit to me.
I hold her face as I only kiss her harder. My other hand palms her ass, gripping a good, greedy chunk of ass meat. It’s not enough, the fabric of her dress in the way. I walk us backward as I lose patience and begin tearing the stupid sparkling cocktail dress off her.
Another designer dress destroyed by my hand. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I get Falynn naked in the quickest manner possible.
“Giovanni…” she moans breathlessly.
I’ve started kissing her throat as we bump into her vanity table. Her dress hangs halfway off her by the time we reach it, my savage hands shoving the expensive fabric off every inch of her skin. Her tits slip out, her nipples already hard before I even tweak them.
Falynn has always had nice breasts. The type of breasts other women pay for. Not too big, not too small. A nice handful with dark beaded nipples that make my mouth water on sight. I whip her around so her back presses against my front, and I grope the soft, bouncy pair.
She leans into me, tilting her head against my shoulder. No matter how hard she tries to resist me, she can’t last long. As soon as my hands are on her, as soon as I bury my face in the crook of her neck and roll her nipples between my fingers, she’s a goner.
Never more mine than in moments like these.
Her sweet scent fills my nostrils, producing a deep, thunderous rumble from my chest. My cock’s painfully fucking hard in my pants after hours without a taste of her.
Many men claim they get bored with their women. Most guys in my lifestyle have mistresses on the side. Bimbos they pick up at clubs or escorts they hire and pay for by the hour. Their wives become some kind of untouched relic, like artifacts in a museum—if they were ever sexually attracted to them in the first place.
But I couldn’t feel more different about Falynn.
Years later, I still transform into a feral beast whenever she’s concerned. If I didn’t have an empire to run, I’d set up camp inside her pussy. I’d never stop trying to stick my cock in one of her holes.
“Look at you,” I growl, gripping her chin. I force her gaze to the vanity mirror, where she stands flushed and half naked in my arms, her dress nothing more than tattered fabric circling her waist. She’s quite a sight in the reflection.
She’s taken on her dazed, just-been-fucked-hard look on her face, lips parted and borderline swollen, her eyes glossed over with lust. Her thick curls hang scattered about her shoulders, once so neat and styled, now wild and untamed. I twist a fistful in my grip and pull hard, watching us in the mirror.
The way her chest heaves as she fights to catch her breath. How her pink tongue pokes out and licks her plump bottom lip. And me, like a devilish beast behind her, my face dark and my broad frame eclipsing hers. The wolf about to devour poor helpless Little Red Riding Hood.
“I waited all day long for this,” I tell her, kissing the side of her neck. “To be balls deep inside you, Honey. Yet I come home to you not wearing my ring. Is that fair?”
She mewls an indecipherable answer, like she’s incapable of proper speech. My hand snakes up and wraps around her throat, applying some pressure. The other clutches her pussy through her satin thong. Our gazes are stuck on each other, our reflections an unfiltered display of our true selves.
“You disobeyed me. You took off my ring. You should know better.”
“Giovanni,” she whines.
I squeeze her throat tighter, slip my other hand inside her panties. “No, Honey, no excuses. You fucked up. Don’t you ever take my ring off again. Is that understood?”
She nods as much as she can in my suffocating grip. I shove her panties down her hips and then undo my belt and pants, all while kissing every part of her I can—her neck, her jawline, the tip of her bare shoulder. If I don’t fuck her in the next sixty seconds, I’m going to lose any semblance of sanity I have left.
A gasp leaves her as my cock spears into her from behind. She stills under me, her eyes clenched shut as she accommodates my thick girth. Her hot, silky walls pulse around me, as tight and wet as always. I spend a second savoring the feel. My breathing is already erratic, already beastly. A warning I’m about to lose any last shred of control I have.
“So fucking good,” I grunt, watching her beautiful face flicker with emotion. “This is how it’s supposed to be, Honey. You wearing my ring. My cock buried in this pussy. Isn’t that right?”
