My wife, it seemed, had different intentions because she kept on talking, not doing. “So, in my infuriated state, I called your good friend who’d offered me that underwear modeling opportunity the last time we were in Rome. Remember him?” She paused for effect while I felt my heart hammering against my throat. “I think his name was Armani, was it?” She dug the knife in deep, right where it hurt.
My body turned cold. “Untie me—” I demanded harshly as I acutely stared at her. This time, I truly wanted to throttle her until she stopped talking all this nonsense.
She cocked her head to the side, smiling like a cat that got the canary, seeing I was about to lose my marbles. “I’m not done yet.”
“You will not flaunt your body, Sienna,” I harshly threw back at her. Over my bloody dead fucking body. She wouldn’t do it. She was using this to taunt me, and for me to finally listen to her demands. Well, this time, I was truly listening.
Her strutting came to a halt. “You flaunt yourself. Well, why can’t I?” her perfectly arched brow mocked me. “Besides, I’d love to see your face when I’m posing next to a hot, male model.”
Santo Cielo! But she knew how to make my blood pressure skyrocket to the inevitable.
“Sienna…” I warned, but she was unperturbed.
She gave me an innocent smile. “Yes, Blake?”
This blasted torture would be the end of me. “Poppet, please tell me this is a joke.”
Long, thick lashes fanned at me while her soft lips made an adorable pout. “Why? Don’t you think I have it in me to pose risqué? Don’t you remember those stills I had with Troy?”
Those photos were far and beyond indecent. I remembered getting absolutely furious to the point I couldn’t control myself, and I ended up fucking her roughly in the office because I needed her to reassure me I was the only man for her. Not Kyle, not Troy, nor any other bloody man that enticed her fancy. The insecurity of that memory brought all the floodgates open.
“You’re punishing me,” I said as I realized what she was doing.
“How many times have I stretched this out to you? Even if they’re only photos, it shows to the rest of the world that you’re easily accessible. How many psychotic women do I have to fight to have you as mine?”
“I am yours,” I vowed with every fiber in me. “I’ve always been yours.”
“Yet, you never listen to me.” She whipped the words back like I’d betrayed her, all the same. “So this is my way of teaching you a lesson.” She nodded, as if this was already not up for discussion. “Jealousy triggers the caveman in you. I hope you’ve learned not to have those insipid hopefuls make you their next target.”
My retort was shoved back into my mouth as her mouth came upon me, kissing me like I was her water after her long, exhausting journey in the Sahara. She kissed with her soul, with her heart. She gave whatever she had.
I wanted to take over and have her flat on her back with her luscious legs wrap around my neck, my hips as I initiated what I had been dreaming of doing to her wicked body for the past week. I thought my prayers had gone unanswered when she didn’t show any sign of doing much else, but I had miscalculated my conniving wife. Because, while I was getting lost in her cunning lips, her fingers had been quite busy, slowly unzipping my trousers. Thus, when her artfully gifted hand gave my cock a light squeeze over my boxer briefs, the grateful, satisfying sounds I was making were ones of Sienna’s brilliantness—they were the sounds of me becoming undone.
Her skilled work put me out of my misery when the tip of my shaft finally touched her delightfully soaked cunt. Then, just as she was slowly pushing down on my length, her eyes sought mine, needing reassurance, giving me a glimpse of the vulnerable woman that was still very much imbedded in the very deep layers of her strength.
“How do you like my pussy, caro?”
“Sublime.” Christ, I was far and beyond smitten to my everlasting wicked witch.
“Good, because you’re going to endure it until I can’t come anymore.”
I’d happily be her prisoner. All she had to do was ask.
“Ti amo, Sienna.” I barely got the words out before she rode me to Hell then purgatory before sending me to the heavens.
And damn, did she just.
The Morning After Being Used and Abused
Blake
“Good morning,” Sienna cheerily whispered into my ear, making me grunt in protest.
“I think you owe me sleep after you exhausted most of my battery last night.” Shifting to my other side, I randomly plucked a pillow from somewhere and covered my face with it.
She peeked into the pillow and whispered into my ear, “I have a feeling you might want to hear this. Besides, you’ve said it yourself, last night was the best welcome back present I have given you to date.”
It had been. It had been bloody glorious. I had never felt so restrictedly pleasured in my life. Ergo the culprit of my present problem, that I was in dire need of sleep and sustenance.
“Thirty minutes, amore, per favore,” I grumbled, pleading.
“Okay,” she said before remaining silent for only a moment. Then she dropped the news without haste. “Kyle is in town. I was hoping we could invite him for dinner.”
Well, there went my good bloody morning.
Taking the pillow off my face, I squinted at her. “You think that’s a great idea?”
Her face contorted, seeming as if she wanted me to stop hating the bastard. “He did, after all, make that call for you to come and help save me,” Sienna pointed out, pointing out the great aspects of the bastard’s friendship with her.
That he had. It was the hardest test I had ever encountered. True, I couldn’t deny the fact that, maybe if it weren’t for him, things would’ve gone entirely different than they had. But, this was Kyle Matthews we were talking about. The very man himself that had threatened me and should be bloody, fucking, merry grateful he hadn’t gotten her pregnant. What a sad bastard.
The thought of sitting through dinner, observing him making sentimental looks towards my wife, would drive me a little mad. Then again, if I said no, Sienna wouldn’t let this go. She’d probably hate me for it. After all, didn’t they say marriage was about compromise? Did it mean I had to bestow that act for the sake of our harmony as a couple?
Damn. Bloody. Damn.
“I suppose we could. If it makes you happy,” I conceded with a heavy heart—emphasis on quite the heavy heart.