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SEVERAL YEARS LATER…
BURBANK, CA
“Areyou going to come for me, beautiful?” I rumble in her ear, sliding my hand around her throat to tilt her head back. “Look at me, Belle, look at me.”
Her dazed eyes find mine.
Fuck, she’s a beautiful, sleepy mess.
There’s something delicious in wrecking her.
In seeing my pretty wife, always so pristine and perfect from years of ingrained grooming by her fucker of a father, even before goddamn bed, be messy for me.
I nip on her earlobe, sucking it into my mouth as I whisper, “Maybe I shouldn’t let you come, hmm? Not if you won’t tell me what I want to hear.”
She whimpers at the purred warning. “I want to come, please, Cade, please.”
Smirking, I tut. “I don’t think that’s enough. I think you need to beg.”
She groans. “You bastard.”
My smirk morphs into a grin as I start to retreat, pulling my dick free until the tip is almost out in the cold. Her cunt clasps around me, holding me in, and she shrieks, “Give me your cock, Cade. Don’t you take it away. Don’t you fucking dare!”
“That’s more like it,” I croon, giving her what she wants. “What’s the rule?”
“I take what I want,” she says thickly.
“So?”
“I want you to fuck me, Cade. Fuck me. Hard. Fast. Rough.”
Immediately, I comply, snapping my hips back so that I can ram into her deeper, slamming her forward so that the headboard rocks into the wall.
“I want you to kiss my throat. Bite me there.”
I burrow my face into her neck and start to suck on that sensitive spot where it meets her shoulder.
“No, no sucking,” she cries. “Bite me. I want your mark. Later, I want everyone to see.”
That immediately makes my blood pressure shoot sky-high.
We’re in L.A. for Suzanna’s birthday party, so that means we’re in Disciples’ territory in the house we own here.
I have no self-esteem issues with how badly my wife wants me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy rubbing it in their faces that they were the ones who let her get away.
Hey, what can I say?
I’m proud of my wife.
I’m proud of the woman she’s become without the shadow of her father haunting her.
I’m proud of the steps she’s taken in her recovery where every-fucking-day she puts in the work and stays strong for us.
I’m proud of how she can let herself be imperfect around me (even though her imperfect is still fucking pristine), and I’m prouder still of what she’s achieved in her real estate business.
More than that?
I’m fuckingthankfulfor her.
