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“What next?” I asked quietly.
“Everything,” he answered. I could feel his eyes on me, watching me as I looked out at the endless waves. He cleared his throat, catching my attention. I turned back to him, and his gaze bored into mine with a dark possessiveness that made my pussy clench tight. I swallowed anxiously, but then the quiet rumble of his voice took hold and rendered me silent.
“First, though, I’m going to make you my bride.”
He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world.
My heart skipped a beat and I stopped breathing, the air seemingly stuck inside my lungs. I opened and closed my mouth, trying to come up with something to say. Anything, really. Nothing came. It was like my body short circuited, and I didn’t know how to fix it.
In all the old-world romance stories I’d come across, a man typically asked for a woman’s hand in marriage. He would get down on one knee and asked her to marry him with a glittering ring. She’d say yes or no, but this wasn’t anything like that.
He wasn’t asking.
He was claiming me as his.
Hearing it spoken out loud like that felt shameful. All my life, marriage was this forbidden terrible thing, never to be mentioned or talked about for fear of the consequences. He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world and that made my core twist hard in arousal.
He wanted me as his bride.
“I can’t…” I began, but his hand snaked into the hair at the back of my head. He closed it in a tight fist, and I cried out, sudden deliciously cruel pain blossoming across my scalp. It scalded white hot for several seconds, but then it simmered into something wonderfully intoxicating. The warmth from it burst downward, straight to my core, and my clit pulsed with need.
His fingers tightened a bit more, holding me captive without saying a word. My lips parted and he spun me back toward him. His other hand wound around my throat, angling my face up toward his. At once, his gaze burned down into mine, hot and heavy and entirely too addictive.
I tried to protest once more, but his lips captured mine in a brutally possessive kiss that stole my breath away. It was cruel. It was vicious. It was absolutely everything I could ever want in a single kiss.
I knew I should be fighting him, but we both knew that I didn’t really want to. He didn’t need to ask me to be his. In many ways, I already belonged to him. I liked it when he took what he wanted, even if that meant he was going to claim me as his bride.
I blushed as he kissed me, knowing that even if he had asked that my answer would have been yes anyway.
The image of me kneeling before his feet flashed before my eyes.
Of his ring on my finger.
Of his child growing in my belly.
The hand surrounding my throat dipped down, sliding underneath my leggings and into my panties to find me soaked. I gasped and he swallowed the sound. His touch circled on top of my clit and just when I thought the kiss couldn’t get any more possessively brutal, it did.
That kiss made it clear I was already his.
His mouth on mine told me that there was so much more to come, that I would learn what it meant to fully belong to him as his wife.
I couldn’t wait to find out.
My clit throbbed beneath his fingers and my core clenched tight. Before I knew what was happening, I moaned. A rush of sensation fluttered inside my core, bursting out and developing a life of its own. My orgasm slammed into me with no warning, fast and viciously hard. I rose up onto my toes as my back arched into him, unable to escape the agonizing ecstasy and not really wanting to. My hips rocked slightly, which only rubbed his fingers more firmly against my clit. I came that much harder.
His tongue twirled along with mine and his hand tightened a bit more at the back of my head. Wild insatiable pleasure rattled though me and he didn’t let me escape even a moment of it. I keened and he kissed me even harder.
My scalp burned, but my body blazed hotter.
I enjoyed every breathtakingly painful second of it.
By the time my release finally waned, my lips were sore and my legs felt like jelly. He pulled his fingers free from my panties and splayed them on my lower back, holding me steady against him and I was grateful for it.
“You’re mine, my little bride,” he whispered, and I blushed at the dark declaration in his tone. I chewed the inside of my cheek, glancing up into those stormy eyes and knowing that I had found where I belonged. It was with him.
I hadn’t said yes, but I didn’t need to.
My body had already answered for me.
