There’s a slight twitch of discomfort in my muscles, realizing how damn fast things can change. It’s unsettling but unstoppable. It started the moment I saw that picture of her standing by her mother’s grave, so many emotions in one image. I couldn’t skip past it without wanting to look at it again.
I tried to convince myself the sole reason I chose her was for her pretty face, but I chose her because she fucking intrigued me.
Vicky holds a dress in front of Leandra, studying it before nodding.
“Vicky.” I call her over and lean back on the white sofa, brushing a finger along my jaw.
“Yes, sir?”
“Please leave.”
Vicky narrows her eyes in confusion. “Sir?”
Leandra pivots to face me. “I kind of need her to help me.”
“No, you don’t. Vicky, leave. Now.”
My eyes stay on Leandra as she watches Vicky walk out and close the white curtain that cuts us off from the world outside.
“Put those back.” I nod at the clothes she holds in her arms.
“I want to try these on.”
“No, you don’t.” My voice raises an octave, losing my patience. “Put those back and pick something else.”
“Are you going to sit there and watch me the entire time?”
“Of course, I am.”
She tucks a strand behind her ear, and I notice how she touches her scar. “I don’t think I’m comfortable with that.”
“And yet you were comfortable enough to stroke your pussy and come while I watched.”
“Jesus Christ.” Blood instantly rushes to her cheeks, embarrassment forcing her to look away. But there’s a glint in her eyes before she does, something that could easily be missed, yet I saw it. The tiny glimmer of…excitement.
The way she shifts from one leg to the other, pressing her lips in a thin line, makes her unease unmissable. But she doesn’t push the conversation further and instead obeys as I watch her stroll around the room, scanning the clothing items, pretending like I didn’t just remind her of what happened last night. God, I love this fucking game.
My gaze is fixed on her, occasionally drifting to her thin waist, along the curve of her hips, down to her shapely calves. I lick my lips, thinking of her legs wrapped around me, her toes pointed with pleasure while I make her come.
The bright light in the room highlights her face, touching her heart-shaped lips, high cheekbones, and long, dark lashes.
“I’ve never been inside a boutique before.”
“I’m aware of that.” I place my elbow on the armrest, lightly tapping my finger on the sofa, watching her drag her hand across the collection of dresses.
“I used to walk past stores like these, wishing I could be one of the girls walking inside with their mothers, smiling with excitement about buying their prom dresses.” She scoffs lightly. “It was so easy to see all their hopes and dreams in their perfect little worlds.”
“No one’s world is perfect.”
“For them, theirs were,” she replies, picking an emerald-colored cocktail dress and holding it out in front of her. “I used to envy them, trying to find fault with their perfect hair, beautiful smiles, and stunning outfits. I would convince myself they were all shallow and cared more about their outside appearance than anything else. But deep down, I knew not all of them were that way.” My focus is on her moving lips as she slips into the cubicle with the dress she picked. “It just made it easier to justify why I was so damn jealous of them.”
She closes the door and shifts the lock. I hate it. My stirring dick wants to watch her get undressed, get another glimpse of her perfect tits and rosy pink nipples. I can still hear her moan as I pinched the hard nub, her back arching with pleasure as water splashed on the tiled floor, ruining my Italian leather shoes.
Fuck the shoes.
The last thing I cared about while coming on her pretty fucking face was my goddamn shoes.
“I don’t know about this dress,” she says from behind the paneled door. “It’s not my style, I think.”
“Come out,” I order, followed by a few moments of silence before the lock unclicks.
I slant my head to the side as she opens the door, nervously brushing her fingers through her long, dark tresses.
Her eyes are downcast as she walks out. The dress is a perfect fit—the silk tight around her chest, smoothing over her palm-sized breasts, the low neckline and spaghetti straps showcasing more of her creamy skin. The sharp flare of the skirt accentuates her slim waist, the emerald color illuminating the amber hues in her eyes as she finally looks at me.
“I should have gone with the dress Vicky picked for me.”
My eyes flutter closed, and I place a finger in front of my lips as I stand. “Turn around.”
“Why?”
“Just. Fucking. Turn around.” The demand is loud and clear, and I take a few strides so my chest touches her back, both of us now looking into the mirror. It takes me a while to digest my thoughts, to fully take her in. “You want to know why I chose you,” I start, easing my fingers up her naked arm, feeling her shiver against me. “I chose you because of how you looked in the picture I had of you.” Her vanilla scent is fucking intoxicating, and I lean closer to her neck, inhaling deep, loving the sound of her soft gasp.
“How did I look?”
There’s a slight tremble in her voice, and I close my eyes, touching my lips to the ear. “Lost.”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are.” I cut off her whisper, my hand slowly moving back down, settling lightly on her waist. “You’re lost in a world you have no clue where you fit in. But judging by how fucking good you look in that dress and how beautiful you look with your hand between your legs—” I nip at her ear, and her body shudders against mine. “I’d say you’re a perfect fit in my world.” My fingers grip her waist, and I pull her back abruptly, rolling my hips so she can feel how hard I am. Glancing at our reflection in the mirror, I watch her hooded eyes, her parted lips, how she cranes her neck back and leans against my shoulder.
Slipping my hand down, the silk is soft, almost exotic, as I start bunching up the fabric in my palm, revealing her thigh inch by fucking inch.
“What are you doing, Alexius?” Her voice is nothing more than a breath. “This wasn’t part of our deal.”
“Neither was my wife having wild and filthy fantasies about me while slipping her finger in and out of her needy cunt.”
Her chest rises and falls as her breathing becomes more labored, her body pressing harder against mine.
I kiss the side of her neck, lapping my tongue against her skin, and it’s so fucking sweet, I want more.
“I can’t…I can’t do this,” she whispers, yet the way she reaches up and behind my neck with her arm speaks otherwise. “Not with you, Alexius.”
“You’re scared of what could happen. Scared of unraveling with me.” The fabric is all bunched up in my hand, and I gently reach down, tracing a fingertip along the crease of her cunt, over her black lace panties. The moan that leaves her lips crashes against the tip of my cock, making me flex against her ass. “Nothing would change between us if we fuck, Leandra. You’ll still be the wife I hate, and I’ll still be the fucker who will make your life hell for six very long months.”
I’m so fucking consumed by her, bewitched, I’m not prepared when she jerks from my hold and darts out of my reach.
“Stop.” Her eyes are wild, her cheeks flushed, and I inch forward only to make her move back. “You told Isaia this morning that I’m not his toy. Well, I’m not your fucking toy either.”
“Who says I’m playing?”
“Aren’t you?” she snaps. “First, you act like this is a mere business transaction, a mutual fucking agreement. Then you start acting like you can’t handle the sight of me. And now you want to fuck me? A woman you so clearly hate.”
“I don’t hate you!” I growl. “I hate what you represent.”
“And what’s that?”
“A wife I never wanted in the fucking first place. A wife I was forced to take simply to ensure I get what is rightfully mine. My goddamn birthright,” I spit out, pushing a finger against my chest. “You are the physical embodiment of what I told my father I don’t fucking need, yet he made me marry anyway. But I don’t hate you, Leandra. I hate that you’re my fucking wife!”
“Then be a fucking man about it, be confident enough to own up to what you goddamn want. The world is unraveling, remember?”
There’s no telling whether it’s the fire in her eyes, the venom in her voice, or the fact that I’ve been a walking hard-on since last night—but whatever the hell it is, it just fucked up my last shred of control.
Something inside me gives way, and my hands are on her waist, pushing her back up against the wall and trapping her body tightly against mine. I grab her chin with cruel fingers and lift her face, claiming her lips with a brutal kiss that hurts as much as it inflames. I can feel every contour of her shape, the swell of her breasts, the curve of her waist—even the rapid beat of her heart vibrates from her chest into mine. A fuse lit up, igniting a fiery, savage desire that has me chained to her, and I can’t pull myself away.
The gentle gasp from her lips rips through my insides straight to my cock as she kisses me back. I don’t beckon or coax her to open for me. I’m too lost in her smell, her heat, her enticing innocence that’s begging to be corrupted. My tongue forces past her lips, finding hers, and an electric current surges between us, threatening to go fucking nuclear at any moment. But I don’t care if it annihilates me. I don’t care if we both explode into flames. I’m already becoming ash the longer I keep her mouth captive with my own.
Another moan ripples from the back of her throat, her mouth hungry and body writhing, and I roll my hips so she can feel what her hips are searching for.
She tries to wrap her arms around my neck, but I grab her wrists and pin them against the wall above her head, deepening our kiss and claiming every inch of her mouth with hard, desperate sweeps of my tongue.
Cold air glides past our heated lips as she gasps, and she tries to free her wrists from my grip, but I merely tighten my fingers and wrap my other arm around her waist and grab her ass. Pulling her closer, I flex and grind my cock against her, the sound of my own moans seeping into our heated kiss.
Slipping my knee between her legs, I curse when she moves her hips, brushing her aching pussy across the fabric of my pants, making me want nothing more than to give her what her body needs and fuck her against the goddamn wall.
Pushing my knee hard against her cunt one last time, I replace it with her hand, forcing her to cup her sex, and I move her panties to the side. “Slip a finger inside you.”
“Alexius.”
“Do it.”
The thrill it gives me to watch her obey so willingly is fucking euphoric. She reaches deeper between her legs, her lips forming an O, beckoning me to kiss her, which I do, sucking on her bottom lip before letting it spring free from between my teeth. “It amazes me how you doubt yourself when it comes to life, yet when it comes to your body, your pleasure, you hardly think twice of doing what you want.”
I grab her wrist that’s between her legs and keep it still, taking her eyes captive with mine. “What did I say to you last night?”
The swell of her breasts teases me as her chest rises and falls rapidly, a soft sheen of perspiration beading on her skin and glimmering under the sharp light. Leaning her head against the wall, her delicate throat bobs as she swallows hard. “You said…next time I pleasure myself,” she pauses, licking her lips, “you’ll fuck me.”
“That’s right, my sweet, innocent little wife.” My fingers easily tear through her lace panties, and her hips buck toward me. “I’m going to make you bleed.”
