Page 18 of His Bride

“Are you sore?” I rasp, my cock aching to be inside of her again.

“No,” she moans as I grip her hips, lifting her so that I can drag her pussy over my cock.

“Grip my cock, baby,” I demand, my voice guttural. She reaches between us and fists my cock. I move her body until she gets her tight hole lined up with the thick head of my cock. She slowly guides herself down my length until I am balls deep inside of her. “Good girl. Ride me.” She begins to gyrate her hips and arches her back. She moves up and down, forward and backward. My hands are all over her. Her eyes never leave mine until her pussy tightens. I use my fingers to rub her clit.

“Dorian!” she shouts as her pussy gushes on me.

“Fuck, baby. You take my cock so good, and you come as if your life depends on it,” I growl as I once again fill her with my seed.

“Doesn’t it?” she asks as she collapses onto me, her head on my shoulder. My lips find her shoulder.

Suddenly, she pulls off of me and climbs out of the bed. She walks toward the bathroom, leaving me covered in her fucking delicious cream.

“Baby?”

“Dorian?” She asks, stopping. She doesn’t turn to face me.

“I swear to God and all the saints in Heaven that this, you and me, isn’t a fucking joke.”

She lets out a deep breath and nods without looking back at me. She goes into the bathroom and closes the door. I hear the toilet flush and the shower turn on. I hate that she’s washing me off of her, but I’ve got the rest of my life to put it back on her.

When she comes back out a few minutes later, she’s still naked, but her hair is wet. Her skin is red like she used the hottest water available. I hate that.

“I’d like to call my mother, please,” she says with her head held high. Has she been crying? I suppose that I could stop her, but I don’t want to distress her further.

“Of course,” I say, getting out of bed. I locate my boxers and pull them back on. “We left your phone at the bar so that you couldn’t be tracked, but we did take your purse.”

“We?”

“Derry and I.”

“I see. Can I borrow your phone? Hers is the only number I have memorized.”

“Yes,” I say, getting it from my coat pocket and handing it to her. I watch as she bends over and picks her robe up off of the floor and puts it on. “What are you going to say?”

“I don’t know, but I am going to put on the performance of my life, just like you want.”

“You should know that they might think you’re dead?”

“What?”

“They think you’re dead. The blood in the alley from your stitches.”

“Shit. I got them wet.”

“The doctor will fix them tomorrow.”

She plasters on a big smile and dials the phone, putting it on speakerphone.

“Hello?” Her mother’s sad voice fills the line.

“Hello, Mama,” she says. The phone is silent for a good minute. “Mama? Did I lose you?”

“Matty?” she whispers.

“Yes, Mama.” Then the woman bursts into tears. Shit, I did this. Matilde is glaring at me like she wants to kill me right now. Fuck. Perhaps I could have gone about this in a better way, but it would have taken too long.

“Matilde?” a man’s voice asks, coming on the line.

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