Complete Innocence Boxset

by Stasia Black

  And yet…there was a big part of her that couldn’t wait to get home. As much as she craved his love, she’d take his dominance. What did that make her?

  Leaning forward as if to fix her shoe, she let her hair fall over her breast and slipped the picture Christopher had given her out of her bra and into her clutch. She didn’t need to glance at it again; she had it memorized.

  Iris had the love Cora wished for, but Cora had Marcus. Arrogant, powerful, frustrating and sexy Marcus. Her husband. She wouldn’t trade him for anything, even the remains of her heart. Her dignity. Her soul. He was the devil, indeed.

  As if sensing her thoughts on him, Marcus glanced down with a lazy smile. His thumb brushed her cheek. “A few more minutes, Angel.”

  The people he was talking to spared her a smile. How lucky, the women were thinking. What a doting husband.

  Cora reached up and captured Marcus’s rough hand. He squeezed hers and didn’t let go. She studied the dark hair dusting his olive skin.

  Marcus didn’t feel love for her, only obsession, but if she couldn’t have one, she’d take the other. Maybe it could be enough to sustain her?

  Her breath quickened when Marcus made his goodbyes and helped her out of her chair. He offered his arm with a sardonic arch of his brow. “Tired?”

  “Not really.” It would be just like him to take her home and put her to bed without relieving the desire he’d stoked. If he did that, she’d scream. Not that she wouldn’t scream if he fucked her. She always lost control when he claimed her. And after the night of tumultuous thinking, she wanted that most of all. She wanted the bliss of being lost in him. For time and space to disappear in only the way that he could provide.

  “Good,” he purred in her ear. “Because the night isn’t over yet.” His hand covered hers where it rested on his strong forearm.

  “Excuse us,” he announced to the cluster of businessmen he’d been speaking to. “I promised my wife a tour of the art gallery.”

  “I hear it’s stunning,” a man with silver hair said. “Closed this time of night, though.”

  “I arranged a late-night viewing. We prefer...privacy.”

  The men laughed at that, and Marcus led Cora to an elevator. A Shade stepped out of the shadows to hand him something. Marcus muttered something that sounded like, “keep the area secure” before inserting a keycard into a slot above the elevator buttons.

  “Where is the art gallery?” Cora asked, her voice calm even as her heart fluttered.

  “Upstairs.” Her husband straightened, his wide shoulders filling the space. It wasn’t just his height and powerful body, but his very presence that dominated the vicinity. “It’s a new installation, part of the remodel.”

  “Let me guess, your businesses had something to do with it.”

  “Art is a good investment,” he said.

  “And it’s beautiful.”

  “That too.” He turned to her and took her in fully. She pretended to ignore him, facing front, but her body hummed, knowing he was inspecting her as if she was a Degas “little dancer” painting he wanted to purchase.

  He hit the emergency button. The elevator stopped with an angry buzz.

  And so it begins.

  “Marcus,” she said breathlessly. His hand came to her neck, thumb stroking a sensitive point. “How’s your pussy?” he asked and she closed her eyes. “That bad? Or that good?”

  Her pulse pounded under his palm.

  “Poor wife. What can I do to make you feel better? Hmmm?” He leaned closer. “Are you wet for me? Let me check.”

  He sank to his knees, pulling up her dress. Cora gave in and leaned against the elevator wall. She reached for him.

  “Hands behind your back,” he ordered sharply and leaned forward after she obeyed. Her fingers scrabbled desperately against the metal railing behind her.

  “Poor, sweet neglected pussy. I’m here,” he crooned, his lips brushing her labia. Cora nearly came then and there. Her head swam as she began to float, her body becoming alight with sensation.

  “Marcus...please…”

  “You have permission. In fact, I expect you to come. Multiple times. If you don’t, I will be very displeased.” He punctuated this with a kiss to her sopping slit.

  Cora’s hands scrabbled on the rail, dying to grab his shoulders and hang on. But no, he’d said to keep her hands behind her back. Obedience equaled pleasure. It was all so simple when they were together like this.

  Marcus lifted her right leg and propped it over his shoulder.

  “Feel free to scream,” he remarked, before diving in. He feasted on her with gusto, nibbling on her lower lips and probing them apart with his tongue.

  Her body convulsed and she fought to stay standing on her left leg. Marcus fit his shoulder under her right as he settled himself in and laved up and down her seam.

  “Oh— Oh— Marcus!” she couldn’t help crying out.

  Her propped leg opened her further to him, and he used his fingers to part and probe her sex as his tongue fluttered next to her clit.

  That was— It was so incredible, she couldn’t even—

  With a growl, he sank his fingers deep, rubbing her inner wall. Cora went up on tiptoe. Oh. The balls inside her pushed further up her channel. Their weight combined with his crooked fingers send shockwaves reverberating through her.

  “Cum for me,” he commanded, and she did, her legs collapsing as she melted down the wall. Only Marcus’s hand on her hip and his shoulder steadied her and kept her upright.

  “My wife.” He moved up and kissed her. She tasted salt, she tasted herself, and underneath was Marcus. Always Marcus, dominating her lips and mouth while her body pulsed with aftershocks.

  His thumb caressed the edge of her jaw and their gazes locked. It was moments like these, when her body and heart were wide open, that she wondered if she’d fallen into a dream. That sweet peace. Like Christopher and Iris had, the kind of forever love that inspired his haunting songs.

  Then Marcus shoved his fingers into her mouth.

  “I knew when I saw you that you were submissive. You just needed a firm hand.”

  He pulled his fingers out and wiped them on her dress. The casual degradation made her cheeks burn. So much for sweetness.

  “You did well. You’ve pleased me.”

  She gritted her teeth.

  “What do you say?”

  “Thank you.”

  “Good girl.”

  Good girl. He was always saying that. Good girl, good girl, good girl. So fucking patronizing. It wasn’t something you said to an equal.

  But then she wasn’t an equal, was she? Not to him. She was a good lay. Of course he’d never love her. How could he love his ‘good girl’, his sex object that got him off when she wasn’t being paraded around as his trophy wife.

  Earlier tonight she told herself this was enough. That she could be satisfied as long as she had this.

  But dammit, didn’t she deserve more? Didn’t she deserve to be loved? Truly loved? Why was she putting up with these half-measures? Did she really think so little of herself?

  She ducked her head away from Marcus. “I...need a moment.”

  He backed away and hit the elevator button. The smooth ascent began, but Cora’s heart remained a few stories down, with the mirage of the caring man her husband could be.

  “You all right?” he asked, casually. Not as if he cared. So much wealth and privilege and he couldn’t afford to care.

  When she remained silent, he called her name. “Cora, answer me.”

  He wanted her to speak? She’d give him words. “You know, I could’ve loved you.”

  He didn’t react. His face showed no sign that she’d fired the first shot. “You don’t love me?”

  “As if I could, after what you’ve done to me.”

  “Is that a no?” A hint of a smirk before his expression smoothed. He was calm as a lawyer questioning a witness.

  Fucking arrogant man. “No, Marcus, I don’t love
you. Not anymore. Not like before.”

  She remembered everything, how much hope she had right up until the wedding night. How he’d held all her happiness in the palm of his hand. How he’d let it fall and then shatter.

  “You could’ve married me, given me the honeymoon of my dreams. You could have told me about your sister. I would’ve grieved with you. If you had told me the truth and opened up to me, we could’ve…” Her voice choked off with all the could have beens.

  Marcus still watched her with no expression.

  “But you chose to punish me.” Her voice cracked and she fought for control. “To break me.”

  He reached for her and she wrenched herself away. She wouldn’t let tears fall. She wouldn’t. “You can have love or you can have revenge. We both know what you chose.”

  Marcus looked down at his bride, quivering with the force of her anger and pain.

  Blue eyes, the color of a summer sky. Hair a dark blonde, like wheat fields. Her complexion was pure, peaches and cream, her scent fresh as the country air.

  He’d never seen anything like her, not in his city. She stepped off the bus into his world, and he’d known if he didn’t take her, claim her for his own, the city would eat her alive.

  All that innocence ready to be sullied. He saved her from a long hard fall. He saved her.

  She should be grateful.

  But instead she glared at him, her expression as close to hate as he’d ever seen it.

  He loomed over her. “This isn’t story time. I’m not a handsome prince. Fairy tales aren’t real.”

  She raised her chin. That vibrant inner strength, the core he couldn’t touch. Couldn’t break.

  “Love is.”

  “If you believe that you’re not truly broken.”

  She started to shake her head and he grabbed her chin, forcing her to face him. “I will risk everything, even your hate, to keep you safe. To let you live in a world where you believe love is real.”

  Her expression softened. See, she couldn’t hate him. She was too full of goodness. The light in her saved him from the darkness, even when he deserved her hate and earned her loathing, over and over.

  “Oh Marcus,” she whispered. “What have you become?”

  For a moment he wavered. He would tell her he didn’t want revenge. That having her was enough, if she would just give herself fully to him—

  But no. That was too close to groveling. And he didn’t grovel. The facts didn’t change whether his face was in her pussy or she was on her knees with his cock down her throat. He owned her.

  Body, mind, soul. Heart. End of story.

  They were almost to the top floor, but not quite. Good enough. He needed to teach his bride, his wife, a lesson.

  He stabbed a button. “On second thought, I think we’ll take the stairs.”

  The doors opened and he swept a hand out. “After you.”

  She took a few trembling steps into the darkness. He’d left the balls inside her. She’d have to tighten her muscles and accept another round of growing arousal. The motion sensor lights blinked on. A museum of white walls and shining wood floors stretched before them, full of statues.

  “Run,” he ordered her coldly. He could all but hear her heart stutter to a stop.

  “Wh-what?”

  “Run,” Marcus repeated, shrugging out of his jacket. He hung it on a nearby statue and started rolling up his sleeves. “I’m going to chase you. If you reach the other side without dropping the balls...” He arched an eyebrow. “…you get a reward.” Then he dropped his voice. “But if you let them fall—”

  Her eyelashes fluttered, her breath coming faster. “What if you catch me?”

  “If I catch you, I get the reward.”

  “What’s the reward?”

  He stared intently into her eyes, which were flitting this way and that before finally settling and focusing on his. “Anything I want.”

  She gulped.

  He’d lied earlier. Some parts of fairy tales were real. Like the big bad wolf hunting down an innocent girl. He was the hunter. She was his prey.

  And now she would understand that she would never, ever escape him.

  She kicked off her shoes and then took off up the stairs. He leaned on the rail, watching her go. She couldn’t quite run. Her ass wiggled back and forth in her attempt to keep her thighs together so the heavy balls would stay inside her. Marcus pulled her panties out from his coat pocket and took a long inhale before finally starting up the stairs himself.

  She hazarded a glance over her shoulder and let out a small yip when she saw he was following and how quickly and easily he was gaining on her.

  Oh he liked this game very much.

  She scurried ahead, darting around installations and statue laden pedestals. He paced behind her, a hunter who knew his prey. She left the scent of arousal in her wake.

  She reached the end of the room and slipped through the door. He was gaining on her even with his steady, even tread. His legs were longer and she had to take small, mincing steps or risk punishment for losing the balls.

  Either that, or she wanted him to catch her. He grinned at the thought. For all her protests, her body recognized its master.

  He paused just outside the door, staying in the shadows as he peeked inside. The second room held only a giant staircase, spiraling up several stories to the sky.

  A massive chandelier blazed above with each of its crystals twisting slowly so shining patterns danced on the white-gold marble.

  There she was, starting up the staircase. She was going slower, gliding from step to step, her face turned to the light. The brilliant waterfall turned her hair into a glowing halo. Bright and fiercely perfect.

  A fist clenched Marcus’s heart until he gritted his teeth against the pain. She was so fucking beautiful it hurt.

  She is mine, and mine alone. Possessing her completely was the only thing that eased the ache.

  He finally came into the room and followed her up the stairs, taking them leisurely two at a time, not rushing but not waiting either.

  When he’d closed the distance to less than twenty steps, Cora glanced back and gasped. Her legs slammed together and she grabbed the railing, pausing to regain her control a second before she fled again. Marcus’s chuckle echoed around them.

  Head bowed, she scurried higher, her steps jerky and panicked. Her fear was so delicious. Especially because he saw her arousal glistening on the pristine stairs.

  Near the top floor, he closed the distance to ten steps. In her rush, she must have forgotten to mind the balls. They fell, bouncing and spinning with wet drops flying.

  They both froze to listen to them clatter over the white-gold marble, down one step and then another and another, echoing like tinny music around the large chamber. When the noise stopped, Marcus met his wife’s wide blue eyes and smiled.

  She turned and raced up the final steps, but too late. Marcus sprang and tackled her, his weight driving her to her hands and knees, even as his arm caught her middle and broke her fall.

  He eased her down the last inch. Her hands slapped the marble and he tossed up her dress, ripping it in his haste.

  He was the victor and he wouldn’t waste time in devouring his prize. Her legs parted automatically and he thrust three fingers into her wet center, hooking to find her G spot.

  “Scream for me,” he ordered and she did, her torso writhing and cunt milking his fingers. “Again.” His fingers probed, finishing what the balls started. She was wet, so wet. If he hadn’t rolled up his cuffs they’d be soaked.

  When she’d convulsed with a second climax, he pushed on her back with his free hand, so her body bowed and her ass propped up right where he wanted it. He knelt a step behind her as she half lay on the landing, legs spread and hindquarters bare, ripe and ready for him.

  He almost broke his pants zipper getting it open. His cock throbbed, pointing straight towards the wet heat waiting for it.

  The cry she made when he slid into her alm
ost set him off. His balls were tight and ready with a massive amount of cum. He gritted his teeth and took a moment to smooth his hands down her shuddering back.

  Then he drove into her, sending her body rocking forward with each thrust. She sobbed and begged for more, her back arched so her ass ground into him. He wound a hand in her hair and made her bow backwards even further. He rode her that way for a while before hooking a hard arm under her helpless body and drawing her up against him, so he could growl in her ear,

  “Enough. Enough of fighting me. You’ll do what I say because I keep you safe. You’ll do what I say because it is what I say. You stay pure. Untouched except by me.”

  His hips slammed into her so hard her body jerked, to make the point. “You are mine and no others. Not even your own.”

  He wound one of his arms around her until his fingers were at her throat. He squeezed only hard enough that she felt him there. “Your life is in my hands and I have sworn to protect you. And you will fucking let me. Do you understand?”

  When she didn’t say anything except for her moans of pleasure, he shook her again. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes!” she cried. “Yes, oh, Marcus.”

  Then she came apart in his arms again, softly keening.

  Gods, he needed this woman. His arms clamped around her, holding her tight as if he could merge them into one. When his climax came, it blinded him.

  He let them both sink to the floor, one arm around her middle and the other propping them up slightly. Cora lay safe in his arms, her hair spilled over the gleaming stone. They were both bathed in softly spinning light.

  He wanted to lie here forever. The fields of paradise couldn’t be better than this. Cora’s warmth soaked into him, warming him down to his bones. For one long, perfect moment, he closed his eyes and let himself bask in her sunlight.

  …

  …

  …

  But…no. He couldn’t. His place was in the darkness. In the cold. In shadow.