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DORNAN
Her dark blue eyes gleamed with conviction, simmered with anger as she stared down at him. In her rage, she was absolutelystunning.
‘This body is mine,’ she whispered to him. ‘It was yours, Dornan, and you did what you did, and it’s not yours anymore. If you want it back? You earn it. You earn my love. You earn your place inside my cunt.You earn my fucking mouth around your cock.’
He nodded, breaking their stare, his eyes sliding down her beautiful tits, her stomach, before coming to rest upon her sweet cunt. He stilled for a moment, breathing in the scent of her.
He licked his lips, pressing the flat of his tongue against her swollen bundle of nerves.
‘Fuck!’ she exclaimed, her fingers pulling his hair to the point of pain. He didn’t care. He liked pain, especially with sex. The two belonged together. Pain and fucking. But, as he licked her he was gentle. She’d suffered too much because ofhim, felt too much pain, and it was time for him to reel it the fuck in and crawl his way back to her side. She was his now, legally, but she was broken. His bird was broken. And it was up to him to fix her.
‘You worship me,’ she moaned, as he sucked her clit into his mouth. ‘You make me believe in you again. You– Oh!’ She ground herself against his mouth desperately. ‘You make me remember why I fuckingloveyou so much, Dornan. You’re the fucking kingpin in of all this–oh, fuck!And you just made me your . . .queen. You just tattooed my status on my skin. It’s time to start treating me like a fucking queen.’
And this time, when she came against his tongue, he didn’t try to cover her mouth or muffle her noises. There was no reason to silence his queen. No, as she cried out and writhed under his tongue, he revelled in the sweet noise of her unsuppressed joy, her exhilaration, as he sucked in a final breath and squeezed his cock, coming violently against his thigh.
***
The next morning, Viper called him. His LAPD contact had done some digging and found the call logs for Mariana’s secret cellphone. The contents of which were very interesting indeed.
She was still sleeping peacefully, out cold, when Dornan took the call in the hallway and then came back into the room. Seemed he and his new wife had some talking to do.
That was, if he didn’t kill her first.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MARIANA
My hand hurt.
The pain had extended beyond my ring finger and my entire hand was just throbbing now. It pounded with the rhythm of my heart, relentless, nauseating. It wasn’t physically that painful, per se, but it was knowing it was there, wanting to rip it off with my fingernails but knowing I couldn’t. Laser removal was in my future, assuming I survived being the wife of California’s most notorious biker and the daughter-in-law of the most lethal drug kingpin of the entire Gulf.
I saw a dirt grave in my future, too.
I’d fallen asleep in my dress, my make-up still caked on. My eyes itched from the clumped mascara, and concealer streaked my pillow. I was beyond caring. Try washing blood out of a pillowcase and then come talk to me about a few smears of liquid make-up.
I sat up in the bed – the large, downy, luxurious bed – and immediately lay down again as the room began to circle meviciously. The vodka. The lack of food. The reminder that Dornan and I were married.
If I’d had anything left in my stomach I would have surely thrown it up. Instead, I curled back into the foetal position and pulled the sheets over my face.
The other side of the bed was empty; I wondered where Dornan was. Reluctantly, I sat up again, scanning the room for him.
He was sitting on the end of the bed, staring at me intently, something in his hand.
‘Hello, Mrs Ross,’ he said, his voice sticky-sweet with fake enthusiasm, his teeth bared in a large grin that didn’t reach his dark eyes. Oh God, what had I done now?
‘Morning,’ I said, crossing my legs in a yoga pose and arranging the blankets around me like a protective shroud. It had to be a hundred degrees out, the sun blazing a path straight to my eyeballs, but the room was as cold as ice. I rubbed my hands down my arms as goosebumps sprang up on my skin.
‘You okay?’ I asked Dornan. Something was up. Better to get it over and done with. Rip the bandaid. It was always about making the pain as quick as possible. No point extending our misery.
Dornan dropped the grin, his eyes on mine. He ran his tongue over his teeth and looked at whatever he was holding. I let my eyes follow his, but his big hands were mostly obscuring the object.
‘Can I trust you?’ he asked me.
I raised my eyebrows. ‘What kind of question is that? Can you trustme? Can I trustyou?’
I didn’t even see the blow that hit me. Something in his hand, hard and blunt, smashed into the side of my head, just above my left ear, and I went down faster than an old Vegas casino with a wrecking ball and some explosives. That is to say, I flew off the bed and onto the floor, the the carpet cushioning my fall.
‘Wrong answer,’ Dornan said coldly, standing above me. I rolled onto my back, taking in his expression: serious, distant.
