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Ever so gently, he sits me down on an oversized bench at the end of the massive bed. The thing could hold a football team—or a harem, I suppose. I bet he’s had a few of those. I wonder if it bothers him that he now has a wife and he’ll have to be discreet about such things.
He turns, walking away. I try to take in my surroundings. It’s something I’ve learned to be aware of growing up with my unpredictable father. But I can’t keep my eyes off Antonio. I watch as he enters the bathroom, and a few seconds later, I hear the water come on. Not long after, Antonio returns. He pulls me back to my feet, his hands going for my dress.
“What are you doing?”
He pulls the dress free from my body, leaving me standing there in only my strapless bra and panties. His eyes rake up and down my body, lingering on the bruise at my side. I can see the rage in in them. I try to step back but bump into the bench.
“Don’t fear me, angel.”
“You ripped my dress off,” I point out.
“I did. It was covered in another man's blood.” He leads me toward the bathroom.
“I can shower myself.”
“You’re trembling. Is it the shock or are you scared of me?”
“Not scared of you.” I raise my chin.
“Good.” He leans down and pulls my panties down my legs. His face is right in front of my sex. I hear him suck in a deep breath. I bite the inside of my cheek so that I don’t whimper. Why is that so hot? He wants to breathe me in?
“Step out,” he orders, his voice gruff. I do as I’m told while reaching around and letting my bra fall free. I watch as he strips off his own clothes until he is in nothing but his boxer briefs. I stare at his broad, hard chest. There is one long scar on his side that I’m guessing is from a knife and another on his thigh. That one is smaller. If I had to guess, I would say it's from a bullet. What I can’t possibly miss is the hard outline of his cock.
“In you go.” His hand goes to my back, guiding me into the shower.
“How come I’m naked and you’re not?”
“You want me naked?” That smirk returns to his lips. I don’t know if I want to smack it or kiss it. What is wrong with me?
“No!” I say quickly. He grabs the soap. “Hey!” I protest when he starts to wash me. “You said that you don’t force women.”
“I’m not forcing myself on you. I’m taking care of my wife. I want their blood off you.” His hands roam my body. The warm water runs down on me. I find myself leaning into him as I relax. His fingers rub circles into my muscles, soothing me in a way that no one ever has.
“Antonio,” I whisper when his hands brush across my breasts. I realize I’ve lain my head on his chest. I tell myself to push back, but I don’t want to move.
“Yes?” His hand slips down my stomach.
“I don’t know what I was going to say.”
His hand cups my sex. I let out a small gasp.
“I think you want your husband to pleasure you.”
“What does that mean?” Is he saying sex? In the shower?
“I’m going to make you come.” His fingers slide through the folds of my sex. He strokes my clit.
“Oh.” I puff out a breath at the sensation. It feels so good.
“You ever touched yourself, angel?”
“No,” I admit. I never wanted to. My whole life I’ve dreaded what was to come when it came to sex. I did everything in my power to keep those thoughts from my mind. Antonio lets out a low groan of approval at my answer.
“I don’t understand it.” I drop my head back finally. “Men go to mistresses to have the sex they really want. A woman with experience. A wife is only for carrying your children and taking care of the home. Why does my lack of knowledge turn you on?”
“Everything about you turns me on, angel. I’ve been hard since I lifted your veil.” He thrust against me, his cock pressing into me. “But I want to hear you come. To be the first to show you pleasure.”
He presses more firmly against my clit as he claims my mouth. I cry out as the orgasm explodes through my body. My knees buckle, but I don’t fall. Antonio keeps me pressed firmly against him. His mouth never leaves mine as I writhe against him. He’s greedy, claiming every moan that leaves my lips for himself.
