Page 17 of Stolen Wife
After sending him on his way, I find myself slowly creeping up the stairs and back into my bedroom. There’s a lot I want to say to Giada, but for the time being, I just have to see that she’s doing okay.
The bed has been neatly made and the bags are full on the bench by the foot of the bed. When I look toward the open bathroom door, I spot Giada examining her face. She’s only wearing a pair of underwear and a tee shirt. I move to the doorway of the bathroom and lean against it to watch her. Groaning, I can see her nipples are pebbled and pushing against the fabric.
I could stare at her all day, but not like this. My brother didn’t just fuck her. He beat her and so did my piece of shit father. God, that would kill me if he took her to bed too. That’s more than I can even stand. It’s killing me that she’s in pain. There’s no way it doesn’t hurt like hell.
“You’re back?” She doesn’t turn to face me. Instead, she watches me through the mirror. I want to see the lust I saw the first time I met her, but she’s scared of me.
“You sound surprised. I told you I would be.” I rake my eyes over her form. From head to toe I catalog each spot and what I want to do to her. God, slipping behind her and sinking my hands onto her waist and thrusting into her pussy is all I want to do right now.
“What do you want from me?” Her voice is just a whisper, revealing her vulnerability. Something I didn’t see before. I step closer, entering the bathroom, but I’m still far from her.
I look into the mirror, staring at her face, and confess, “It’s complicated.”
“I know this all has to do with Rafael.” Her body stiffens up and I want to tell her it’s not, but I can’t lie and pretend that it isn’t.
“Not all of this.” She doesn’t believe me, and it’s written all over her face. The intensity of my desire for her is only matched by my hatred for him and the life he stole from me.
“When can I leave?”
My response is instant and final. “Never.” The question sounds ludicrous to me. I can’t fathom ever letting her go.
“So I’m your prisoner.”
“If that’s the way you want to take it.” I can’t go into how I’m fucking obsessed with her. No, I want to work my way into her heart. How the fuck am I going to manage that shit?
She spins around and angrily lets loose her attitude. “What I’d like to do is get the fuck away from all of you. One after the other: abusive, criminal, cruel.”
“Baby, stealing you is the only illegal thing I’ve ever done.”
“Don’t baby me. I’m a married woman. Not some whore.” She puffs out her chest, trying to appear tough, but all it does is show her fabulous tits and those stiff nipples that are going to be in my mouth very soon.
“I never said you were a whore, but you will be mine, and you’re going to love it. I’m going to make you scream my name, begging for more every single day.”
“Bullshit.”
“Watch your mouth.” She can curse all day long, but I want to see her get smart with me. I have a feeling it’s going to be fun.
“Or what?”
My dick’s about to burst through my zipper and show her. “You’re testing my patience.”
“Well, feeling’s mutual.” Keep it coming, sweetheart.
“You know what I’d like to test?” I close the distance and box her in, letting her ass hit the countertop. My hands straddle her while I keep my hips away from her. I don’t want her to feel what she’s doing to me just yet. I want to watch her come apart.
“What?” She swallows hard, and visions of her down on her knees taking my cock down her throat makes me even harder.
“How wet you are for me.”
“I’m not wet,” she protests way too loudly.
“No?” I dip my head a little, my lips nearly brushing the side of hers.
“No.” Her voice shakes.
“You have a terrible poker face, but that’s okay. I’ll just see for myself.” She doesn’t stop me, and I’m not sure if she’s too afraid or maybe just a tad bit curious. Either way, I have a point to prove and a need to satisfy. I slide my fingers up her thigh, watching her pupils dilate. Slowly, I inch my hand up, creeping under the soft material, and drag it down. My mouth waters as I stare at her bare mound that glistens for me. My thick, calloused fingers part her seam, pressing gently against her heat. She shivers, but she doesn’t take her eyes off me.
“You are a beautiful little liar. Still. I don’t like liars. I can’t trust someone who lies to me.” I pump one finger inside of her, and fucking hell, she’s tight. Did he really fuck her or not? Pencil dick bastard. I’m going to hurt her when I do take her cunt.