I’m not sure what the future holds for me. I’m not sure it is love, but maybe I can learn to be happy, and maybe love will come eventually. It’s hard not to be bitter and angry. I am doing what I can to remain positive, but positivity is hard to manage in this situation.
I’ve married a gorgeous man. In that sense, life could be a lot worse. He has money. He obviously has this weird obsession with me, and I like it. He’s awakened a side of me I didn’t know existed.
But I don’t know if I can move past the issue of him kidnapping me, not allowing me to go home. I’m not sure how to live a happy life, and I’m not sure if I can pretend.
We’re at the reception in the ballroom now, standing underneath the chandelier. We’re the only ones on the dance floor, and everyone else is watching us as they sip champagne.
No one should be allowed to be this good-looking. With his dark hair styled and his olive skin against the white collar of his tux, it’s hard to take my eyes off his face.
His hand falls to my waist, and the other takes my hand in his. Dri tugs me against his body, and I gasp, feeling every hard ridge of his muscles against mine.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he compliments, his eyes locking onto mine.
God, where do I know those eyes from?
They’ve haunted me for years, and I can’t place them, but does it matter? I’m here now, and I finally get to look into them.
“So are you,” I reply as we begin to dance. “I mean, handsome. You look very handsome in your tux, Dri.”
We don’t remove our eyes from one another as we dance. We spin and float along the dance floor as if we have done this a hundred times. It’s natural and easy.
He smirks, showing his white teeth. He knows he looks delicious.
As we dance, his hands travel along my curves, and the feather touch has my eyes fluttering. He leans down, his lips grazing my ear, and I tilt my head to the side. “I can’t wait to peel this dress from your body tonight. I’m going to make you mine, at last, Mable.”
A whimper escapes me. A horrifying thought hits me.
I want that.
I want him to take me. I want to experience passion and lust, even if he is a villain. I know we won’t last forever, but maybe I can make the best of whatever time I give him.
As we dance, he continues to whisper filthy things into my ear while people watch, probably thinking how sweet we look together.
There’s nothing sweet happening between us right now.
“I’ve waited so long to experience your body, to see it, to taste it, and I’m going to devour you, Mable. I’m going to make you want this life more and more every day, so you’ll never want to leave. You’ll never want to leave our bed because I’m going to fuck you every day, multiple times a day, leaving you too tired to fight me.”
I inhale a sharp breath, my cheeks heating, and I dart my eyes around the room to see if anyone can tell what’s going on. His brother Otello lifts his drink into the air, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as if he knows.
A low, slow throb builds between my legs, and I realize I want him.
I’ve never wanted anyone before. Not like this. Is it okay to want the villain?
“I’m going to claim that sweet cunt and fill it, Mable.”
“Dri,” I gasp his name, suddenly becoming shy.
“What is it, Sweetness? Never had a man talked to you like this? Never had a man get you wet with need before he slid into you? Because that’s what I plan on doing.”
And he is very successful. He’s reached his goal.
I’m needy, and my panties are slick with want.
“Have you never had a man want you so much he can feel you in his bones? Because I do.” He slides his lips across my neck, and a shaking breath escapes him, heating the pulsating flesh of my jugular. He presses his hips against me, and I roll my lips together to stop a groan from escaping. “Do you feel how much I want you? You in this skin-tight dress, married to me, my wife, fuck,” he growls, his hand clutching my hip to control himself.
I lick my lips, trying to catch my breath. “I’ve never had a man,” I finally admit.
“You never had a man do what, Sweetness?” his lips kiss my neck, a moment of fear gliding down my spine. The voice in the back of my head says run, but my heart is beating a million miles an hour, telling me to take that leap Daphne told me to take earlier.
“I’ve never had a man do anything, Dri.” I lean away from him and look him in the eye.
His jaw tenses, the muscle flexing and causing his jaw to become sharper, deadlier, and now I try to pull away from his arms, thinking I’m in danger or that he’ll hurt me.
Maybe this is what I need to be free, but now I’m finding that I want him and his approval.
“Don’t you dare try to get away from me.” His hand gently cups my jaw, and he stares intensely into my eyes. “Are you saying you’re a virgin, Mable? Are you saying…” he rasps, dragging his eyes down my body. “That no man has ever touched you?”
I shake my head, my eyes burning with tears because I don’t know if what is happening is good or bad. “No, no one. I haven’t wanted to.”
He growls low in his throat, and I can feel the vibrations from his chest tickling mine since he has me aligned with his body. The hard length of his cock presses against my lower belly. “Do you feel what that does to me?” He rips himself out of my arms and leaves me alone in the middle of the dance floor. He stands on a nearby table, kicking off the plates and champagne flutes. They shatter when they hit the ground, and a curious murmur rolls through the crowd. “Everyone, get the hell out! Party is over! Get. Out.”
“Have you lost your mind?” I yell at him. “What are you thinking? You can’t just make our guest leave. That’s so—”
I’m silenced when his hand covers my mouth, and he crowds me with his body, making me take a few steps back.
“I can do whatever the hell I want, wife, because when it comes to you, I don’t have control to string a complete thought together. You want to know what I’m thinking?” He snarls, his fingers wrapping around my throat. “I’m thinking how I’m taking you up to the room right now and claiming you as mine. Fuck the guests. I don’t give a damn about them.”
In a move I’m not expecting, he throws me over his shoulder, and I yelp, his hand slapping my ass as he charges out of the room.
“You’re a caveman! Put me down, Dri.”
“I’ll put you down,” he says, but continues walking down his mansion’s empty halls to get to his wing. “When I can throw you on the bed.”
I glance around for anyone to help me, to save me, but as his footsteps echo down the empty hall, I realize I can’t be saved.
Why do I like the sound of that so much?
