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“Do it,” he hisses, and something dark and angry rises up in me, too. All the resentment at the control that everyone seems to have over my life except for me, all of the hatred that I have for the life I was born into, how angry I am at the choices that my father and brother made that put me here, in this marriage, with this man. I raise my hand again, striking him across the side of his face, and when he shoves me back onto the bed in response, I see that he’s hard.
“Good girl. See, you can take orders, as long as they’re orders you want.” David yanks at his belt, the ridge of his cock straining against his fly, and I feel my pulse leap in my throat despite myself. Even when I’m furious with him, I still want him.
He yanks down his zipper, his thick cock springing free, and he wraps his hand around it as he meets my gaze. “Spread your legs,” he growls, his hand sliding along the length. “I want to see you.”
The words are sharp, demanding, and every one sends heat lancing through me, staining my cheeks with embarrassment. I ball up the skirt of my sundress in my hands, lifting it up as I spread my legs, my knees falling to the side. I chose a pair of peach-colored silk and lace panties this morning, and I see David’s eyes darken as he gazes between my thighs, his mouth twitching with amused desire. My face flushes hotter, knowing what he’s seeing—the damp fabric clinging between my legs where I’m already wet for him.
“Take your panties off,” he murmurs, his hand still slowly stroking his cock. “Now, Amalie,” he adds, when I hesitate for just a moment, my gaze fixed on his throbbing length. I can see the pre-cum pearling at the tip, and I can’t help the way I lick my lips as he rubs his thumb over it, pressing the pad of it into the swollen flesh.
“You want my cock in your mouth, don’t you?” he murmurs, that lewd smirk still on his face as I slip my panties down my thighs. “But you’ll have to earn my cock again, Amalie. You were so good last night, but I’m afraid you’ve undone it all. So spread your legs like a good girl. Just like you did for me while you were alone here, while I was in Boston.”
I stare at him, uncomprehending for a moment. My legs snap shut as I sit up on my elbows, blinking confusedly. “What are you talking about?” I whisper, and David chuckles darkly, his hand sliding lazily along his cock once more.
“You didn’t figure it out?” He nods towards the corner of the room, his hand still moving, as if pleasuring himself is just another part of the conversation. I turn in the direction he’s looking, still confused—and then I see the small, blinking red light.
Horror sweeps through me as I realize what he means. “No—” I whisper, remembering that night, how I’d touched myself, fucked myself with the toy in a way that I would haveneverlet him see me if he’d been there, how I’d moaned his name. I feel tears of humiliation pricking at the back of my eyes, realizing that he knows I fantasized about him when he wasn’t there, that no matter how much I claim to hate him, I want him even more.
“Such a little slut.” David steps closer, between my legs, his hand wrapping in my hair once more. “Fucking yourself like that for me to watch. It got me off, watching you. Seeing you like that, wet and spread open for me, not knowing I was seeing everything. I came so fucking hard,bellisima.I couldn’t wait to come home and fuck your pretty mouth. My little whore of a wife.” He shoves me back again, his hand moving along his cock more quickly. “And you expect me to believe you were a virgin?”
I glare up at him, the fury returning in a flash. “ Iwas,” I hiss. “You were the only one. You’vebeenthe only one, even if sometimes—”
His gaze sparks dangerously, and he reaches down, grabbing my knee as he spreads me open. “Careful what you say,cara mia,” he murmurs. “Now show me how wet you are for me. How much the idea of me watching you come turns you on. You like that I was watching, don’t you? Even if it embarrasses you, too.”
I hate him. It echoes in my head, even as I obey him, my body aching with the need to be touched, to be fucked, to push past all of the games and fighting and justfeel. I hate that he didn’t tell me about the camera. No doubt waiting for exactly that to happen—for me to give him a show without knowing, so that he could hold it over my head. I hate that he mocks me with it, instead of making it something teasing and sweet. I hate that nothing between us can ever be good, and I hate that I don’t fully understand why.
My legs fall open as if on their own accord, my body throbbing with need. I watch, breathless, as his hand slides over his cock, the length of it glistening with his arousal, as his gaze fixes between my thighs. “Spread yourself open,bellisima,” he murmurs, his voice thick and hoarse with desire. “Let me see.”
I feel flushed and hot, my skin too tight for my body. I reach down, spreading myself open with my fingers, feeling how slick and wet I am, my swollen clit peeking through even before I part my folds, letting him see every inch of my aroused flesh. I know he can see it when I tighten, my body clenching on nothing, wanting him, the way my hips arch up at the touch of my fingers, my clit twitching with the need to be touched.
“Just like that,” he murmurs. “Stay just like that,bellisima.”
I know, from the way he says it, that I’m not allowed to touch myself further. My fingers are a fraction away from my clit, holding my folds open for his view. I whimper helplessly as I watch him stroke his cock, his muscled forearm flexing below the rolled-up sleeve, his jaw clenched taut with pleasure. His palm rubs over his cockhead, spreading his arousal along his shaft, his hips jerking forward as he fucks his fist, and I so desperately want it to be me instead.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his hand sliding down to the base and squeezing, his gaze fixed darkly between my thighs. “I think you might deserve a reward,cara mia.”
I realize at that moment, as David steps forward with his hand sliding up my thigh, that he’s not as impervious to how I make him feel as he so often makes me think that he is. He wants me to think that he’s doing me a favor by relenting and fucking me, that he’srewardingme—but the truth is that he wants to be inside me just as desperately as I want him. This is just a way for him to pretend that he doesn’t need it every bit as much.
His hand grabs my hip, squeezing, his thumb pressing against my hipbone as he yanks me to the edge of the bed, dislodging my hand. I can’t hold back the sound I make, the moan that slips out as he spreads my legs wide, fingers digging into the soft flesh almost painfully as his cock presses against my entrance. I canfeelhim throbbing, even like this, hard and aching for me, and I feel a sudden thrill, a burst of satisfaction that I can turn him on so much. That I can push him past the limits of his self-control.
But he pushes me past mine, too. When he thrusts into me hard, filling me with one swift thrust, I can’t stop myself from crying out. I can’t stop myself from wrapping my legs around his hips, pulling him closer, wanting more as I arch into him. I want all of it—every bit of sensation that he can give me, the feeling of his body against mine, my breasts brushing against his chest, the flex of his muscles as he slams his cock into me again and again, as if he wants to take out every bit of his anger on me.
And I want to let him.
He groans as he slams into me again, reaching up to grab my hands where my nails are digging into his shoulders. His fingers close around my wrists, dragging my hands up above my head and pinning them there as he rocks into me, grinding against my clit with every thrust. “You’re going to come for me again,” he rasps, his expression taut with pleasure, his voice hoarse with it. “You can’t help it. You couldn’t stop if you wanted to.”
The way he says the last half makes me wonder if he’s saying it to me or himself, the words filled with so much disdain that it makes my heart ache. I turn my face away, but he presses his mouth to mine, tilting his hips as he thrusts into me again so that I cry out into the kiss, the swollen head of his cock brushing against that spot deep inside of me that nearly makes me spill over the edge again.
It feels so good, every time. I feel myself arch, my muscles tensing, that delicious pressure unfurling inside of me as he pushes me closer and closer. I can feel his rhythm stuttering, his thrusts more erratic with every hot slide of his body inside of me, and I know he’s close. When I tighten around him, gasping his name as my climax hits, I hear his ragged groan and know that he can’t hold back any longer.
“Fuck—” he groans aloud, hips jerking as his fingers tighten almost painfully around my wrists, his cock harder than I think I’ve ever felt him as he pins me to the bed, filling me with spurt after spurt of his cum. I can feel him, hot and thick, and it sends another aftershock of pleasure through me, rippling around him as he presses his mouth to my shoulder and moans.
And then, almost as quickly as he pushed himself inside of me, he slips free, standing up and turning away from me. Something about the sudden detachment sends a pang through me, and I push myself up on my elbows, half-sitting up as I tuck my legs underneath myself. I want to shrink back when he turns to look at me, his face so expressionless that it’s almost worse than his anger, but I force myself not to move. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Even like this, standing there completely naked, his softening cock clinging damply to his thigh, he still frightens me.
He will always have the power to destroy me entirely, if he wants to.
“I feel like you hate me,” I whisper softly, and I feel the prick of tears behind my eyelids, burning there in the corners. The words hang in the air between us, and I wait for him to deny it. Even hearing him say that I’m overreacting would be something. But his expression stays cold and blank, and he doesn’t so much as flinch.
“It’s better than being in love with you,” he says finally, his voice as cold as his eyes, and turns to walk away.
