Bride by Sara Fields

Chapter 7

Ireached for my wineglass and gulped down a mouthful of the burgundy liquid, trying to come to terms with what Grayson was telling me and not really believing it. It seemed like a twisted story to suddenly become something of a mafia princess in the dangerously bloody world of the cartel. I’d long lost hope of ever knowing anything about my father and his history and to be suddenly thrust into it without any warning was a lot to take in.

“This isn’t possible,” I repeated.

“I’m afraid it is, sweet girl. I verified it myself some time ago,” he replied.

“How?”

“A few years ago, Ismael’s son was arrested for drug possession. I was able to procure a sample of his blood. I compared it to yours and the results were definitive. He is your brother, which in turn makes Ismael Zambada Garcia your father,” he said. There was no sarcasm or even the hint of a joke in his features. Everything he was saying was the truth, no matter how much I wanted to brush it aside as rumor or conjecture or the biggest fucking nightmare of my life.

I didn’t ask him how he’d gotten a sample of my blood. It didn’t matter really. I was quickly coming to terms with that fact that Grayson Asher was much more than just a rich eligible bachelor. He was a billionaire and in some fashion, a bit of a crime lord himself. He operated with power that people only dreamed of. I was probably only scratching at the surface of what he was capable of.

“The Sinaloa Cartel operates by blood and family above all else, but a crime organization of their caliber makes enemies and a lot of them. Their biggest one is the Jalisco New Generation Cartel. The two have been at war for years, but when Ismael discovered that he had a very attractive American daughter, he made an arrangement with his enemies. He arranged for you to be married,” Grayson continued.

“That’s not possible,” I snapped once again.

“It is, my sweet bride. Your father arranged for you to be married into one of the bloodiest cartels in recent history,” he said further. “Your husband was to be Nemesio Cervantes.”

I knew that name too.

“When was this marriage supposed to happen?” I pressed.

“On your twenty-fifth birthday,” he answered.

“That’s in a few days,” I whispered.

“I know. May twelfth,” he replied. I tried not to be bothered by the fact that he already knew the date.

“If I’m supposed to be marrying a cartel drug lord in a few days, why am I sitting across from you in a wedding dress?” I swallowed heavily. The white fabric encasing my body suddenly felt heavy, but the ring on my finger felt even more daunting than all of that.

“This marriage between you and Nemesio has been in arrangement for a long time.”

“How long?”

“It was drafted in the weeks following your mother’s death,” he explained.

I swallowed back my horror.

“Why am I sitting here as your bride?” I pressed. There was something else he wasn’t telling me, and I needed to know what it was.

“I come across problems sometimes in my line of work. Not all of them can be fixed or dealt with and some of them I must pretend like I never even saw at all, but when your marriage contract came to light, I was drawn to it, and I began to investigate it. At the time, you were eighteen and had been in your first year at Stanford University and I decided to take matters into my own hands. I bought your contract myself. The only stipulation in the bill of sale was that you were to be my wife before the day of your twenty-fifth birthday or else the marriage to Nemesio would go forward as planned,” he finally finished and I sat back against the chair, my meal mostly forgotten.

“You can’t purchase people like a prized horse,” I spat.

“I can and I did,” he replied curtly.

“You forced me to say my vows. Any valid court would throw our sham of a marriage out the window,” I scoffed.

“True, but then the cartel would find you. I don’t need to tell you what would happen after that,” he said, and I gritted my teeth, knowing he was right.

I reached for my glass of wine once more and took another heavy swallow.

“Eat, Zoe,” he coaxed gently. I leaned forward and picked my utensils back up again, cutting another bite and placing it on my tongue. I was so unsettled that I hardly tasted it. For a few moments, I was quiet, and he let me be and for that I was grateful. Eventually, I cleared my throat and sat back.

“Will you show the contract to me, and the blood tests? I’d like to see all that you have regarding my father.” I questioned softly. There was a reluctant part of me that did mostly believe him, but I still needed to see the evidence that he had collected too. I needed a little bit more than just his word that this was how things were.

“I will show you everything,” he promised, and I sighed with a small measure of relief.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, wanting to ask something else and after a few more bites of buttery lobster, I summoned up the courage to speak my mind.

“You’ve been single in the eyes of the media for a long time. To my knowledge, no paparazzi have even caught wind of you on a date, let alone a relationship with anyone. Why?”

“There’s only ever been you, Zoe.”

He sat back and his entire body exuded calm confidence. He stared at me like I was the only woman in the world. His eyes made me feel like beautiful perfection even though I knew about the stretch marks on the sides of my hips and the scars on my knees from when I’d fallen off my bike as a kid. He looked at me like he saw only beauty, like he didn’t see even a single one of my imperfections and that was so utterly captivating that I couldn’t bring myself to run away. I should want to escape. I should yell for help, but I wouldn’t because I didn’t want to.

To hell with what the world expected. I kind of wanted to know what would come next.

“Eat, Zoe. I want to see you finish your meal,” he said expectantly, and I nodded as I reached for another bite. I ate my fill, delighting with every flavorful taste that spread across my tongue from the luxurious meal that had been prepared for the two of us. I cleared much of my plate, enjoying a liberal gulp of wine occasionally too. By the time I finished, I felt full and rather spoiled. I put down my utensils and took another small sip of water, only to catch him watching me with keen interest.

“What is it?”

“You’re so very beautiful when you’re enjoying yourself.”

I felt myself flush with heat from the compliment, feeling the tension of such a serious subject finally ebb away.

“I particularly like it when you blush and smile for me, pretty girl,” he purred. “Come, walk with me through the gardens. I’ve arranged for us to have dessert later tonight. I imagine that you might be hungry after I’m through with you,” he added.

My pussy clenched hard.

He pushed the chair back and rounded the table. This time, I wasn’t nervous to take his hand. I took it because I wanted to. Once I was standing, I wrapped my arm around his and walked with him, side by side.

As husband and wife.

We walked for a time in silence, just enjoying each other’s company along the way. Occasionally, he would point out a rare type of flower. We would stop and I would take a moment to sample the aroma of each one, delighting in the different scents in his garden. The whole rooftop was beautifully planned and planted. A garden of this magnitude probably took a fair number of people to keep it in pristine condition, but money was simply an object for him. There was nothing that was too expensive for him. His power bought him a fair number of things, but it was his wallet that paid for whatever else he wanted whenever he wanted. I wasn’t certain whether that was a good thing yet or not.

The sun had long set, and the sparkling lights of the stars and a full moon overhead lit our path. All around us, the buildings began to come to life, lights illuminating the multitudes of windows surrounding us. Down below, streetlamps turned on, brightening and chasing away the shadows of the evening. I stopped at one point, just enamored with the beauty of nightfall while Grayson stood by me.

When I snuck a peek at him, he looked almost regal, and I couldn’t help catching myself mesmerized by the sight. He radiated power, influence, and money with the way he held himself, shoulders pulled back, deliberate intention and everything I could ever imagine in a man. He was part beast, part mystery, and now maybe in a sense, he was mine too.

Maybe this wasn’t a nightmare. Maybe it was supposed to happen this way.

“Grayson?” I asked quietly.

“What is it, sweet girl?”

“I’m going to want to finish my work,” I started, suddenly worried that he’d want to control me completely now that I had walked down the aisle for him.

“I know,” he answered. “I’m not here to limit your success. If anything, I want to help you achieve everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

“So, you don’t plan on turning me into a perfect obedient little housewife,” I scoffed, and he laughed out loud as if I’d said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“Definitely not. I rather like my limbs where they are, my feisty bride,” he replied, and I relaxed against him. “Although I do expect your obedience when it comes to certain things,” he added suggestively, and I wiggled seductively against him as he pulled me close to his chest. My bottom pressed against his hips, and I smirked the tiniest bit when I felt the iron hard spike of his cock against me.

“Good. I would have hated having to bite your cock off,” I threatened lightly, and he chuckled behind me.

“Bad girl,” he purred, but there was no real admonishment in his tone. He kissed the side of my neck and I leaned into him.

“I like it when you’re feisty with me,” he whispered.

I shivered beside him, feeling the caress of his words flitter across my sensitive skin as though it were a warm breeze. I was starting to feel comfortable. He didn’t seem like he was out to control me or hurt me, at least outside of the bedroom.

I was certain that he wanted to possess my body though, and with a single touch of his finger down the side of my neck, I knew that I would relent. He kissed that same spot so sweetly that it caused a delicious shiver of desire to cascade down my spine, and at the same time he squeezed my breast roughly enough to make me pussy tighten with blatant incredible need.

“I’m your girl now?” I questioned tentatively, a bit insecure in my admission.

“Yes. My girl,” he growled firmly, and his hands gripped at me harder. With steady swiftness, he spun me around and forced me to look at him. “Now, my pretty bride, it is time for me to claim what is mine.”

A haze of anxiety crashed over me. It was our wedding night, and he would have certain expectations of what that meant. I wanted it, but at the same time, I didn’t. I was so very conflicted.

He didn’t really give me much time to protest as he pulled me back toward the entrance to the gardens. I took each step along with him, playing the part of a willing captive and a trapped bride because I didn’t know what else I could do.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure at this point what I wanted. Did I want to go along with him? Did I want to escape and take back my freedom?

I didn’t really know.

The picturesque colors of the flowers around me grew hazy as I lost myself in conflict. He opened the door and I entered along with him, walking carefully through the hallways as my heels clicked along the hard wood. The punctuated sounds drummed almost as loudly as my heart, and I couldn’t seem to slow the way my breath flew in and out of my lungs. His grip on my arm was steady and strong and I found myself wondering if I could even break it if I tried.

When we approached the master suite, he paused and picked me up as though I weighed nothing at all. It was sexy and terrifying all at once.

“Carrying me across the threshold,” I quipped nervously, and he laughed, his mood light.

“I’m a traditional kind of man,” he replied.

“Sure,” I answered, disbelieving, and he lifted me up high enough to nibble my neck.

“I have traditional moments,” he corrected, and I laughed anxiously.

The light moment was enough to relieve my nervousness and quiet the panicked beat of my heart, at least for a little while. I allowed myself to relish his strong arms around me, a strong, firm embrace that held me as though I were weightless. His scent swirled around me, masculine and perfect and I hesitantly pressed my cheek against his chest. The constant drum of his heartbeat against my ear was just as robust as mine, but it was soothing in a way that calmed my soul.

As we crossed the threshold into his bedroom, I found myself staring at his bed, wondering how he would take me. Would he force me down on my back? Would he rather take me from behind?

Would I like it? Would he?

I’d been going along with most of today without much of a fight because I hadn’t seen any way out. There had been no easy escape and now everything came down on me with the rushing danger of an oncoming storm. When he placed me down on the floor, I sucked in a harsh breath.

I shouldn’t be doing this. I was a businesswoman. It wasn’t a part of my plan to become a wife, especially Grayson Asher’s.

I needed to fight back. If anyone found out that I’d gone to his bed as a willing participant in this forced marriage, they’d look at me like I was insane. I was a proud woman and I grasped at those instincts, pulling at them like frayed ends of a rope until I held the entire thing in my hand. With a sigh, I closed my eyes and committed myself to fighting back.

He reached for the back of my dress, and I jerked away the moment his fingers brushed against my bare skin. I took a step forward and spun around, holding my head high enough to make him raise an eyebrow.

“Don’t touch me,” I snarled, and his gaze darkened considerably. I wobbled on my feet, questioning myself for a second before I returned his ire. He took a step toward me, and I took another backwards, until a wall pressed at my back. He surrounded me with his massive, muscular frame and my palms flattened against the painted drywall as though it would offer some sort of protection even though I knew it wouldn’t.

“I can do whatever I want with you, my pretty bride,” he purred as his arms slid around my waist. He jerked me to him and spun me around, quickly pressing me against the wall. The coolness of it on my cheek caused me to pause before he grasped the back of my dress roughly. I tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go.

“What are you doing?” I asked in a slight panic.

“I want to see what’s mine,” he replied expectantly, and I heard the seams of my wedding dress pop as he slowly and deliberately began to tear them apart. The buttons flew off one by one, clicking as they bounced against the floor. I looked down, seeing the tiny silk-wrapped things roll along the carpet as though they were a broken strand of pearls.

I gasped as he ripped the back of my dress, slowly baring the gentle curve of my spine until it was fully laid open. I wrapped my arms around my chest protectively, hoping to delay the inevitable, but he tore at the seams as though they were made of paper. Each layer of tulle floated to the floor like a cloud.

With every ripping sound, I was reminded of his power, of his cruel intention and I found myself nervously awaiting the final outcome. He forcibly pushed the straps of the dress down my shoulders, and I clamped my arms around myself even tighter, but he was stronger than that. One by one, he tore the straps clean off and he pushed the dress down around my hips until the weight of it fell to the floor.

I stood there in the corseted top, a pair of underwear, and a garter that had been put on me before I’d been able to prevent it.

Slowly, he unclasped the top and tossed that aside. I did my best to cover my breasts, electing to protect my nipples as much as I could. As I stood there in my panties and garter, I wavered in what I wanted. I knew that I shouldn’t want this, but it was quickly becoming harder to ignore the persistent pulse of desire inside me, the needy twisting feeling deep in my core. A feeling that I knew, without a doubt, he was putting there.

I should fight this every step of the way, but he was strong. I knew that he could overpower me easily if he wanted to. He’d already done it several times today and I realized I was only left with a few options.

I could fight him, and he could force himself on me every step of the way. There was no way that wouldn’t hurt a whole lot. I didn’t want to be taken against my will, but I wasn’t totally unwilling. In the end, there was a part of me that wanted him too. He’d had me on the edge all day and I couldn’t deny the evidence between my thighs, even right now. The gusset of my panties was soaked through. I knew it and he’d find out soon enough too.

If I went willingly to his bed, there was a possibility that he might be gentle, but I wasn’t sure what that might mean. Would he make love to me? Would I enjoy it?

But… if I did that, maybe he wouldn’t be rough with me. Maybe I didn’t want gentle after all. Maybe I kind of wanted some of both.

I’d always been the kind of woman who went after what she wanted and for the moment, I wanted Grayson Asher.

Trying to summon any courage I had left, I let go of my chest and lowered my hands to my sides. My mouth was dry, and my breath was coming out in heated, quick pants and I couldn’t keep it under control. I was so nervous that I didn’t know what to do or say, so I blurted out the first thing to come to mind.

“Please. Be gentle with me.” I don’t know why I said that. It wasn’t really what I wanted. I craved the firmness of his fingers along my skin, clutching roughly at my body while he gave me the long hard fucking I truly needed.

He caged me in against the wall and I did my best to arch myself just so that his body scarcely touched mine. My nipples had already tightened into hard little peaks though, and they brushed against his chest.

His fingers brushed at my throat, circling around it and dragging down. He just glided over the tender skin between my breasts, continuing further until he just grazed against the lacey hem of my creamy white bridal panties. Slowly, he dragged his fingertips back and forth and I tried to study his face, but he was so focused that my stomach clenched nervously at what he had planned.

“You want me to be gentle with you?” he asked carefully, and I don’t know why, but there was a dangerous edge to his voice that made me even more nervous than before. Was he trying to trick me into something? Did he want that too?

“Please,” I squeaked quietly, sounding like a church mouse rather than a proud woman.

His fingers slipped under the hem of my underwear, and I gasped aloud. Would he touch me now? Would he finally make me come?

I should have known better.

In a flash, he grasped at my panties and pulled them so hard they wedged between my soaked folds. He didn’t pause when I cried out as he tore them from my body. I yelped in surprise, immediately drowning in sheer agony as the cloth bit at my pussy, pinching it hard enough to almost make me scream. A flood of pain blossomed across my tender flesh, and I quivered on shaky legs. I probably would have fallen if not for the way he pushed his leg in between mine to support me.

“You don’t want me to be gentle with you and you know it,” he countered, and my thighs trembled as my pussy continued to burn. As the seconds passed, the initial sting began to fade, and I was left with an aching soreness between my legs that refused to quell. My clit throbbed hard, and it was then I noticed that the full length of his cock was pressed against my clit. I was almost disappointed that the barrier of his slacks kept it from truly touching me.

I hated that he was right and that made me mad. I loathed that I wanted him to push me up against the wall and force himself inside me. I hated that I wanted to feel every thick long inch mastering my body in a way no man had ever done before. It made me so angry to want those things because I shouldn’t want them.

Goodgirls didn’t want that.

I didn’t understand why I wanted him to hurt me. I couldn’t fathom why my body continued to betray the soundness of my mind and react with visceral arousal, needing him and wanting him in a way so taboo that it should be forbidden.

“You want it to hurt,” he pressed. “The thought of me taking you hard enough leave you sore long after I’m through with you makes you soaking wet, my pretty bride.”

I almost reached up and slapped him, but I held back. I gritted my teeth, wanting to deny that everything he was saying was the truth, needing to deny it because of my pride.

“You can hurt me if you want, but no matter what you do to me I will never truly be yours,” I spat, and his smirk widened precipitously. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes that reminded me of the criminal nature of some of his endeavors and a very real jolt of fear poured over me. I stiffened before him, trying to quell that terrified feeling and stoke the brazen way I was pushing back at him.

He reached for me, cupping my face with that broad palm of his and dragging his thumb across my cheekbone with a possessiveness that made me suck in a breath in an aroused panic. I glared at him, and he smiled broadly.

“You’re already mine. You always have been,” he said darkly, and he leaned in closer, brushing his lips against my ear and nipping my earlobe just hard enough to set the rest of my body on fire. “But you’re right. This is going to hurt.”

There was no time to fight back as his arm circled around my waist and lifted me cleanly off the floor. He strode to the bed and before I had the foresight to try to kick or struggle out of his arms, he’d already sat down and deposited me over his knee.

Completely naked, I couldn’t hide the bareness of my ass or my naked pussy and he knew it. As if he wanted to hammer the message home, he slid his fingers in between my thighs. I closed my eyes, knowing that he’d finally discovered just how soaking wet I was for him.

He found my clit and circled it gently. He’d kept me on edge for so many hours and I’d fought him through all of it, but now that I was naked over his knee with his fingers teasing me where I needed him the most, every bit of that fight scattered just like dust on the wind.

He teased me there for several minutes, forcing my desire forward once again. I tried to keep quiet, but it was a losing battle. Before long, I was gasping aloud, each breath sounding less like a cry of disquiet and more like a moan of very clear and obvious desire. Just when I was on the cusp of orgasm, he pulled his hand away and I cried out as the painful slice of denial tore through me with vicious ruthlessness once again.

“Please,” I pleaded, and I nearly bit through my lower lip with shame in my inability to keep myself quiet. I didn’t want to beg.

His palm cracked down hard on the right side of my ass and I jolted hard as his other arm wrapped around my waist. Held firmly in place, I was in no position to fight my way off of him and when I kicked my legs in an effort to try, he tipped me forward and trapped one of mine beneath his. This new position spread my legs rather obscenely, and I was mortified once I realized that my wetness was on complete display.

“I want this gorgeous ass bright pink before I fuck your tight little pussy, my feisty bride,” he exclaimed purposefully and with vicious intent, he smacked my left cheek.

“Let me go!”

“No,” he answered, and his palm squeezed my ass hard enough to make me cry out.

I knew arguing wouldn’t get me anywhere. The more I fought him, the harder he would spank me and the longer it would take until I got what I really wanted.

His cock sinking in deep into my needy channel. I closed my eyes and the next spank fell.

My pussy clenched hard as he slapped my ass. His palm was biting at first and the initial sting was far harsher than I was prepared for, but that was quickly consumed by the overwhelming sense of desire that followed. He continued to spank me, and it hurt, but my arousal just grew stronger.

Pleasure and pain became one, twisting together in a thread that wound around and squeezed tight deep inside me. With each punishing slap, a pulse of pleasure jolted my core and forced my clit to throb insatiably between my legs.

The more he spanked me, the more I wanted to jump up and ride his cock with wild abandon. My desire was so strong that my anger had all but faded, leaving me to contend with the confusing storm of sensations coursing through me. He paused for a moment and slipped his hand back in between my legs. I didn’t fight him this time. Almost involuntarily, my thighs opened wider, and my hips arched upward, giving him access to my body in a way I’d never done before.

“You’re so much wetter, sweet girl,” he murmured, and he pulled me against him hard enough so that I could feel the iron spike of his cock against my belly. “It makes my cock very hard to spank this bottom like this.”

My pussy clenched painfully tight in anticipation of what would ultimately come once he decided my bottom was red enough.

His hand clutched hard at my waist, and he dragged his fingers across my scalded backside, spreading my wetness along my sensitized skin and forcing me to accept just how aroused I was to be treated so roughly. His palm squeezed each side of my ass hard and I lifted my hips.

I wanted more, so I decided to push him.

“Do your worst,” I dared him, and he chuckled knowingly before his palm clapped down on my ass far harder than it had yet. Immediately, I regretted my words as the sting burst out across my bottom and another hard smack followed.

Ruthlessly, he spanked me, ensuring to cover every inch of my backside with his palm until I was a gasping, writhing mess over his knee. He punished the upper half of my thighs, taking special care to lift my hips so that he could spank the lower curve of my bottom especially hard.

“You play a dangerous game, sweet girl. You should know that I will conquer you each and every time. I know how to teach my bride her rightful place,” he scolded, and my inner walls fluttered with shameful need.

“Please!” I begged.

He spanked me harder, faster, and I finally realized that I’d lost control. He’d taken it and turned my pride on its head. This hurt far more than I’d wanted it to, but I’d pushed myself into it. The only person responsible for how much my bottom burned right now was me and I keened as a single drop of wetness rolled down my thigh. It probably landed on his slacks beneath me too.

When he finally paused, I sucked in a breath, only noticing that my hands had tightened into little fists. I’d clutched at the comforter, and I hesitantly released it.

“Please,” I pleaded more softly this time.

His palm skirted over my scalded flesh, gentle and soothing. I arched up into his touch, desperate for his gentleness and only just beginning to accept that I wanted his roughness too. When he slid his fingers between my thighs for a third and final time, I knew what he’d find.

“My, my… It would seem my pretty bride is the wettest she’s ever been for me,” he murmured, and I gasped as he captured my clit once more.

“Now tell me, sweet girl. Do you want me to be gentle with you?”

I didn’t. I didn’t want gentle at all. Instead of answering right away, I whined and tried to press into the pads of his fingers with my body. With a rather salacious motion, I attempted to ride his fingers to completion. He drew his fingers away and I moaned in disappointment, but I wasn’t left without his touch for very long.

He slapped my pussy three times in quick succession, and I cried out as the red-hot burning sting blossomed across my tortured flesh.

“No, sir. I don’t want gentle,” I shrieked, desperate to avoid an even harder spanking to my already needy and extremely tender pussy.

“Good girl,” he crooned, and he gently captured my clit once more. He squeezed it between two fingers, sliding them back and forth until I was on the cusp of a very powerful orgasm that threatened to break at any moment. My desperation turned vocal, my cries growing louder and louder until I was on the very edge.

His fingers drew away and grasped firmly at my hips. He lifted my writhing form off his lap and threw me flat on the bed on my back. I cried out as my scalded bottom pressed against the firm mattress, igniting the burn of his palm once more.

I didn’t even try to keep my thighs closed. There was no hiding that I wanted this anymore. My fingers clutched at the bed, desperate to touch myself, but I didn’t know that if it was something he would allow.

He grasped at his bowtie and untied it, tossing it to the floor without a care. He shrugged off the blazer and made quick work of the white button-up shirt beneath. My mouth watered as he exposed his chest and the painful need to touch him jolted through me with debilitating force. He kicked his shoes and his socks off first before tearing his belt from his slacks in a flash. The swish of the leather made my stomach drop hard and my thighs closed instinctually before I remembered to spread them open again. He smirked when he saw my reaction and he folded over the belt, snapping it and making me shiver at the silent threat of it.

“One day, you’ll earn the stripes of my belt across your naked backside again. That will be the same day that I fuck that tight little bottom hole with my cock,” he warned, and I couldn’t stop the way my inner walls fluttered greedily at his words.

“You’d fuck my bottom, sir?” I asked and my voice was far too husky with arousal.

“Yes, little girl. I’ll enjoy every second of it too,” he replied, and a harsh tremor of need jolted straight to my clit. I couldn’t take my eyes off that belt, knowing how much it hurt and how much I wanted to feel it again despite all that. Thankfully, he threw it aside and I was quickly distracted by what he did next.

When he finally freed his cock from the confines of his clothing, I was nearly writhing with need for it. I tried to push back my desire by focusing on the beauty of his muscular form, but that only made my arousal that much greater and stronger.

As if he could read my mind, he grinned knowingly.

He climbed over me and pressed his hands to either side of my head. He held himself just above me and when the heated shaft of his cock pressed against my needy pussy, I cried out with arousal. Teasingly, he slid himself back and forth along my soaked folds and I bit my lip as a tremor of pleasure rattled me senseless.

“Please,” I begged.

He swallowed my pleas with a hard, bruising kiss that would leave me swollen long after it ended. I moaned, pressing up into him as I arched back and forth in his grasp. My pussy dragged against the hard length of his cock, and I quivered against him, my desire quickly taking over every ounce of my being.

“I’ll give you one last chance. Do you want me to be gentle, Zoe?”

His cock stroked my clit lazily, back and forth, far too slowly for me to gain any traction. He had me pinned enough so that I couldn’t move beneath him. I wanted to roll my hips. I wanted to rock myself against his hard length. More than anything though, I wanted to come.

“No, sir,” I answered shakily, trembling beneath him.

“Good girl,” he whispered as he pulled his hips back. With care, he lined up the head of his cock with my pussy and jerked his hips forward without warning. With one unfathomably hard motion, he forced every inch of his massive cock into my sheath and a quick flash of agony ballooned inside of me. I hadn’t expected the pain to be as intense as it was. A soft keening sound escaped me, and he kissed me, swallowing my screams. When the pain finally began to ebb away, he started to move once more although much more slowly.

“You’re too big for me,” I gasped, and he chuckled into the side of my neck, thrusting into me a few times as if to prove me wrong.

“No. I’m not. I’m just right for you,” he purred. With one hand, he reached down and grasped my hip, using it to thrust into me harder several times.

My inner walls squeezed tight around him, greedily clutching at his length as if my body was agreeing with him. I tried to ignore it, but the more I felt all of him inside me, the weaker my need to fight him became. With every thrust, it was like he was reaching deep into me. It almost was like he was grasping at my heart.

I buried that feeling deep, trying to convince myself never to think it again. In an effort to push it away, I attempted to lose myself in the physical connection between us, but with every hard stroke of his cock into my pussy, I knew that it was inevitable.

I could already feel it beginning, a gentle pulse inside my core that told me that I would fall for this man one day.

I would fight it, but right now, I was going to use him just as he was using me.

I rocked my hips, taking his cock deeper with every motion. He arched back and moved the hand that was grasping at my hip to between my legs. His hand flattened on my lower belly and his thumb lightly teased over the top of my clit, making me shiver hard with blatant need. He must have felt my body’s reaction because he did it again just a little harder.

“Oh!” I cried out and he pistoned his cock into me harder than before. It felt so good to have his thumb on my clit and the massive length of him inside me that I spiraled headfirst into a world consisting of his body on mine and the tumultuous pleasure that was surging inside me. My core twisted hard, causing a delicious sequence of pulses between my legs, and his thumb started to move faster.

“I can’t!”

“You will, little girl. I want to feel that pussy milk my cock when you come for me,” he coaxed, and his filthy words did something so tremendously unexpected that I was almost too ashamed to admit it. It was far too late for shame though. This man had already done several mortifying things to me and as the memories flashed before my eyes, my thighs began to shake. I didn’t know what to make of it.

I wasn’t naïve to my body. I had sex toys at home, not many, but a few. I knew how to use them to make myself come before. Those orgasms had been good, great even.

At least, they had been back then.

My legs trembled harder. They’d never done that before, and I knew that this coming orgasm was going to be the hardest one I’d ever had in my life. I could feel it building inside me, bigger and bigger, and there was a part of me that was beginning to fear it when it broke.

His hand wound around my neck, clutching the back of it and using it to hold me still so that he could fuck me even harder. I never got used to the size of him. With every hard stroke, my body both grasped at his length and tried to push him out. It hurt at the same time that it was so wonderfully good. Pain and pleasure became one and the same, a turbulent twisting sensation that held me captive from the beginning and didn’t let me go.

His thumb continued to tease my clit, torturing me and I knew it wouldn’t be long now.

“I… need,” I began, not really knowing what I was saying anymore.

“I know, my beautiful bride. Come for me,” he coaxed.

His cock slid in and out of me, rubbing against a place within me that only made my legs shake even harder. His presence surrounded me. His scent intoxicated me.

There was nothing left in me to fight. I only had to feel.

His thumb grew more persistent. My inner walls clutched at his thick length slamming in and out of me and I knew I was fractions of a second away from the hardest orgasm of my life.

This felt so good. I arched into him, my nipples scraped against the roughness of his chest, and I finally flew apart beneath him.

My pussy clamped down around his cock and he groaned, eliciting an almost primal reaction from me. My entire body trembled, overtaken by the intensity of the pleasure he’d built inside me all day as it finally broke free.

My moan of surprise was soft at first, but it grew louder and louder until I was screaming with unfettered bliss. There was no vow of silence this time. To be honest, I knew from the very start that it wouldn’t be possible.

He didn’t slow down once my orgasm began. If anything, he only fucked me harder, taunted my clit more firmly, and coaxed my pleasure as high as it would go until I felt like my head was in the clouds and I’d never come down. On and on that first orgasm went until I feared that it wouldn’t end.

It was beautiful and addictive and when it finally did begin to fade, I found that I was almost sad that it was over.

But…

His cock was still impossibly hard, and his thrusts weren’t slowing. No longer in the clutches of such a powerful orgasm, my body began to grow sore, my clit sensitive.

“Grayson?” I whimpered.

“I’m not through with you, little girl. I want two more orgasms from you and you’re going to give them to me unless you want to feel my belt across your backside again before I put you to bed,” he growled.

I yelped as he pistoned his hips into me particularly hard. My clit jolted, as though his words had ignited a direct conduit straight to it.

“I’ve never had more than one,” I protested disbelievingly.

“You will tonight,” he warned, and my pussy grasped at his cock tight.

I wanted to brush his words aside as impossible, but then I felt a glimmer of something deep inside my core. I closed my eyes and tried to figure out what it was, and I moaned when it eventually dawned on me.

My body was rising once more. Desire simmered from within me, a perfect mixture of unfathomable need and insatiable passion that refused to quell.

His hips snapped against mine, pushing the thickness of his cock all the way inside me. I could feel every ridge, every hard throbbing vein.

“You will take what I give you, bride,” he whispered, and I arched into him. My movement pressed my scorched backside into the bed, and I gasped as my pussy tightened hard around him. I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to take his massive cock inside my bottom hole too.

I shivered hard and that elusive second orgasm roared forward.

His thumb never stopped worrying my clit and I lost myself in everything that he was forcing on me. He’d known I hadn’t wanted his gentleness and that turned me on more than I cared to admit. He used my body roughly and he took every bit of control that I had to give, and I had to do nothing but submit to him completely.

I shook beneath him, my body quaking with every thrust, every hard stroke, and before I could stop it, I came again.

That first orgasm had been blissfully wonderful, so very pleasurable and intensely hard that I knew that I would be sated long after this night was over. The second one was far different. This one broke over me with a savage violence, a forceful ecstasy that came with a fierce bite of pain.

I started screaming right from the start and I didn’t stop till it ended.

His fucking grew even rougher, more vigorously hard that my pussy began to burn hot, both with increasing soreness and insatiable pleasure. I writhed beneath him, trying to get away and not wanting to in the same breath. That orgasm broke over me with an intense pain, but as the seconds drew past with vivid agony, it soon gave way to the most mesmerizing pleasure I’d ever felt.

I soared with ecstasy. I moaned until my voice grew hoarse. His fingers moved to the back of my scalp, and he closed his fist around my hair, pulling it hard enough so that a fiery blossom of pain radiated up and down my spine. I pressed myself up against him, gasping for air as I took him inside me, over and over again until that second orgasm eventually faded into sore blissful happiness.

I closed my eyes and focused on drawing the heated air in and out of my lungs. It was difficult. My heartbeat quaked within me fast, frantic and needy. My body continued to tremble with powerful aftershocks, evidence of just how incredible those two orgasms had been.

“One more, my pretty bride. For this last one, you will wait until I give you permission to have it. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” I panted, curling myself around him. His hard cock was still inside me as I lay beneath him, exhausted and sated. He still wasn’t done with me and there was a small quiver of fear deep inside my core that he could long outlast me.

His thrusts grew slower, deeper, and each one felt like a declaration of his ownership over my body.

“I can’t,” I breathed.

“You can and you will, little girl. You will come one more time for me,” he said sternly, and my core twisted hard as if it was answering to him and him alone. “I’m going to enjoy this sweet little pussy until I’ve had my fill and I plan on taking my time with it.”

I shivered hard.

My limbs felt heavy, but as his cock slowly pressed in and out of me, I found myself rising once again even though I didn’t think I could. He ground his hips into me as his thumb lightly teased the greedy bud in between my thighs. He drove me up unhurriedly, almost as if he was deliberately coaxing my desire forward.

My arousal was resistant. He’d already made me come twice and my body reluctantly answered with the possibility of a third. If he’d had told me that he would do this to me earlier, I’d have told him he was insane, but right now, beneath him like this, it was everything and more.

The more he fucked me, the more my arousal returned. It built with leisurely intent, slowly circling around me like a vise and tightening inch by inch until it captured me completely.

I’m not sure where the turning point was and I don’t know when my resistance became willing desire, but it happened nonetheless. Soon enough, I was writhing beneath him, knowing my final orgasm was close.

This time was different though. This time, I had to wait.

For some insane reason, I wanted to obey him. I wanted to be the one who made him smile, who made him proud that I’d followed his instructions even when they were difficult for me. I wanted to be the one he thought of when he closed his eyes and I wanted to be the first he imagined when he opened them in the morning.

“Please,” I begged.

My orgasm was so close. I could feel it and I knew that it was going to be the most painful one of them all.

“I’m enjoying myself, little girl,” he answered with a seductive growl, and I whimpered. My arousal felt like a ticking time bomb inside me, and it was going to go off at any second.

“Please. Let me come for you,” I pleaded. My voice sounded almost broken and pitifully desperate. When he didn’t respond right away, I cried out, unable to keep quiet as I tried to force back that final release from coming too soon.

“Oh. Please. Please. Please,” I whimpered, my words mixing into blatant cries and just when my eyes began to roll back in my head, he growled and thrust into me harder than he had ever before.

“Come for me, Zoe. Scream for me,” he commanded. I didn’t need to be told twice.

That last orgasm was vicious from the start. I whined and I cried, but I thrashed beneath him with blissful harrowing agony that tore me open from the inside out. Every second was ruthlessly cruel at the same time that it was exquisitely sweet. My entire body quaked with my desire, pinned beneath his strong form with nowhere to go. There was nothing for me to do but suffer through every moment.

It was brutal and harsh, yet it was vexing in its utter captivity over me. My inner walls spasmed around his cock, milking him for everything he was worth. Every muscle in my body was clenched tight and I vaguely wondered if I’d ever be able to control them again. I lost myself in that incredible void of pleasurable agony.

I writhed. I screamed. I felt.

I came so impossibly hard.

His thrust quickened and began more sporadic. He growled in my ear and just when I reached the peak of my own orgasm, his began. He roared as the first heated spray of his cum pelted my cervix, burning me from within. My own release grew even higher still, and I clutched at his back. My nails dug into his shoulders and his own fist tightened on the hair at the back of my head.

I broke harder than I ever broke before.

It was as though I was falling into a dark abyss, pain and pleasure coming together in a spiraling cascade of sensation that tore through me like a knife. It was sharp and biting, but so intensely wonderful that I soared.

His cum continued to spurt inside me, over and over again until he was fully spent. Even then, he continued to fuck me, although a bit more leisurely now. I could feel the burning heat of his seed leaking down my thighs and I realized with vivid shame that I liked it. I blushed as he released my hair and gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him as I pulled in one shaky breath after another.

“You were beautiful when I saw you for the first time and your bare little bottom is gorgeous when it’s been spanked bright red, but when you come for me, you are sheer perfection,” he murmured, and my heated flush only grew hotter. His thumb caressed my cheek and he hummed quietly with pride.

He’d made me come so hard that my cheeks were wet with my own tears.

“You’re perfect, Zoe. Everything about you is perfect,” he whispered, and his lips found mine in a hard kiss that bruised my lips and left them sore. I pressed back into him, answering to his command and thoroughly enjoying the fact that just a simple kiss could elicit such a strong reaction all on its own.

As if he was doing it with purposeful slowness, he pulled his cock from my body, and I sighed with almost a sense of disappointment. His seed spilt out onto my thighs, and he tucked me under the covers with him with expert swiftness. His arm curled around my waist, and he pulled my body against his. His massive frame curled around mine. His heat, his scent, his protection surrounded me in a soothing embrace, and I snuggled a bit closer to him.

A part of me hoped that he would never let go.

A louder part of me told me to run.

I closed my eyes and simply allowed the continual pounding of my heart and the calming beat of his own to lull me to sleep. That night, I dreamed of what a life could be with my husband, the infamously rich Grayson Asher.

Time would tell if it would be a good dream or the worst kind of nightmare.