by Bianca Cole
“All you’ve taught me is how to hate someone more than I believed humanly possible.”
I shake my head, feeling an odd pulling sensation in my chest. “Hate?” I laugh. “Angel, you’ve hardly seen what I’m capable of.”
She swallows hard, and I can see the fear ignite in her eyes. Fear used to be something I relished seeing in a woman’s eyes, but not in Aida’s. “Oh great, so I can expect to hate you even more.”
I grab hold of her wrist hard and pull her close. “Don’t be smart with me. I know how much you love being punished, but you might not like the punishment if you push me any further.”
She shakes her head. “Glad to see you’re concerned that your wife was almost blown to pieces by your enemy.” Aida rips her wrist out of my hand. “Your answer is to punish me for saving my own life and Olivia’s.”
I grit my teeth as Piero explained what happened. She did save their lives. Otherwise, she would be critical in a hospital or worse. “No, but spitting in my face and telling me you hate me doesn’t help.”
Her eyes widen, and she pushes off the bed, putting distance between us. “Don’t act like you care what I think about you.”
Care.
A word that wasn’t in my vocabulary until I met her. I do care what Aida thinks more than I should. I walk toward her slowly. “For some fucked up reason, I do care.” I grab hold of her wrist and pull her into my chest. “Now stop testing me and shut up.” I press my lips to hers and kiss her passionately, teasing my tongue around hers.
She tenses at first, reluctant to give into me. Slowly her resolve waivers as she kisses me back. The pent-up frustration releases as we both devour each other. I lift her in my arms and carry her back to the bed, gently lowering her onto it.
I can’t understand why a need to be gentle with her takes hold of me.
Aida looks up at me with a smoldering desire that replaces the hate.
I grab hold of the front of her thin nightdress and rip it in half, making her gasp. The need for her naked and panting beneath me is all-consuming.
I kiss her neck softly, kissing a path slowly down her perfect body. Roughly, I unhook her bra and toss it aside, allowing my tongue to tease around her hard, pebbled nipples.
She moans, her lips pursing in a way that drives me insane. I let my tongue and lips trail down her abdomen toward the apex between her thighs.
Aida is wearing a skimpy little thong that is easy to tear in two with my bare hands.
I bury my face between her thighs, and she makes the most delicious sound I’ve ever heard. I pause a moment and gaze up at her. “Have you missed daddy’s tongue, angel?” I ask. I haven’t touched Aida since we returned from our honeymoon.
She bites her bottom lip, nodding. “Yes.” She doesn’t call me sir or daddy, but I allow it to slide on this occasion.
The hunger for my wife overrules my need to dominate. It drives me insane and is unlike anything I’ve experienced before in my life. Aida has infected me like a disease. A disease that is so deep-rooted no matter how much I try to avoid it, I know it’ll only come back stronger.
Aida’s back arches as I drive my tongue deep inside of her. All my focus is on turning her into a quivering, begging mess. The need to claim her and breed her overwhelms me. I made my intention to get her pregnant clear, but I can’t understand why I have a sheer primal need to mate with the woman I’ve been landed with that’s almost impossible to resist.
When Fabio suggested I marry his daughter, Piero thought it a good idea as she could provide an heir to my empire and give me control over Alteri’s business once he passes away.
However, producing an heir isn’t the driving force that makes me want to breed her. It feels like a fundamental instinct that I can’t fight. A need to mark her as mine in every physical way possible. The ultimate way of marking her as mine would be to get her pregnant.
I stand behind her and drop my pants and boxer briefs. Without warning her, I slide every inch of my cock as deep as possible inside of her. My thrust is gentler than I’ve been with her up to now. Aida gasps, and it’s a sound that sends shock waves through my body. There’s something different about this moment together. I’m not sure it’s a good thing. It feels unpredictable, and I don’t do unpredictable.
21
Aida
I gasp as he gently thrusts into me. Milo is fucking me without punishing me first with a flogger or a paddle for the first time. There’s something different about the way he’s handling me tonight. It’s gentle, and I find it unnerving.
His words only minutes ago keep repeating over and over in my mind.
For some fucked up reason, I do care.
Milo caring for me shouldn’t matter so much, but it does. It makes my insides flutter and my heart rate race. This twisted and cold-hearted man has managed to worm his way under my skin in ways I can’t comprehend.
I feel his hands tightening around my hips as he starts to fuck me harder. It’s impossible to keep quiet as he fills me with a pleasure so intense that I crave release more than anything.
“Fuck,” Milo growls behind me, digging his fingers into my hips harder. “You feel like fucking heaven,” he murmurs.
I groan as he nibbles at the lobe of my ear. I grit my teeth, wishing I had the power to resist him. A man I hated badly, but that passionate emotion has twisted into something different entirely.
He’s become my addiction as people get addicted to alcohol or drugs. Instead, I’m addicted to Milo. It would be easier if I were addicted to anything else.
Milo grabs a handful of my hair and yanks it hard. “I want you to turn over for me, princess.”
I turn over onto my back and stare into the ice-blue eyes of my husband. Eyes that once scared me from the lack of emotion they held, but I can now see a depth of emotion. There’s a passion in them that boils my blood.
Milo kisses my lips softly as he thrusts back inside of me. My stomach churns as I know that his gentleness is only going to confuse me. It’s easier to hate him when he’s rough and cruel, but it is impossible to hate him even then. My hunger for the pain he doles out is sadistic.
“Fuck, you’re so tight, angel,” he murmurs into my ear, thrusting his huge cock in and out of me with long, slow strokes so I can feel every inch of him stretching me.
My nipples harden against his tattooed chest. “Fuck,” I mutter.
He wraps a hand around my throat and squeezes enough to hurt. “I want to hear you call me daddy,” he orders.
I meet his hot gaze and bite my bottom lip. One minute we’re fighting, and the next we’re fucking. It’s the most messed-up relationship ever.
“Fuck, daddy,” I breathe, feeling the need for release tightening its hold over me.
“Good girl,” he purrs, making my heart skip a beat.
Out of all the times we’ve fucked, he’s never allowed me to face him. There’s something surprisingly intimate about it.
Since Milo was my first, sex with him is all I’ve known. Looking into his eyes while he moves in and out of me makes me feel vulnerable, and from the look in his eyes, he feels the same.
I let his lips tease mine, feeling his neat beard tickle against my skin. His body covers mine, emphasizing how much power my husband holds over me. I’m at his mercy. Milo can break me and my heart. I gave him that ability unwillingly, and it scares me in ways I can hardly put into words.
“That’s it, angel, take daddy’s cock,” he whispers against my ear. “I love being inside your perfect, tight pussy.”
I shut my eyes, moaning at his dirty words. My nipples are hard peaks as Milo drives me closer and closer to climax.
He stops, making me whimper in frustration. “I’m going to make you wait, angel. I’m going to keep pushing you to climax, only to stop repeatedly until you’re practically begging me to let you come.” A cruel glint ignites in his eyes, and for some fucked up reason, it turns me on.
Why do I like him treating me however he wants?
> “What?” I ask, trying to push him off me.
He grabs my wrists effortlessly and pushes them down on either side of my head. “I’m in control of your pain, your pleasure.” He shakes his head. “I’m in control of you entirely, princess.” He uses his body to pin me to the bed as he leans over and grabs a chain already affixed to the bed, clapping my right wrist in the handcuff.
He then grabs another chain, claps my left wrist in it, and pulls out of me. “I’m going to make you so desperate you’ll be crying,” he says, towering over me in all his grandeur.
“You’re a fucking bastard,” I shout.
Milo’s eyes flash with rage, and I remember how angry he got when I called him that before.
He moves like a viper, grabbing my throat so hard I think he’s going to choke the life out of me. “Don’t call me that again. Do you understand me?” he says each word slowly.
I struggle to swallow with his hand tight around my neck. All I can do is nod.
He lets go of my neck, and I gasp for air. “You’re a psychopath,” I spit.
“I’ve been called worse. Don’t act like you don’t love the way I treat you, Aida.” He shakes his head. “I see it in your eyes. How much you long for me.”
I glare at him in disbelief at how self-assured he is. The annoying thing is that he is right. My body and my mind are at constant war with each other. Milo makes me feel alive when he touches me and when he takes what he wants. It makes me feel more desired than I’ve ever felt.
The ferocity in his passion for dominating and conquering my body is addictive. It doesn’t matter what he does. I still crave more.
Milo grabs my ankles and claps them in the chains already fixed to the bed. He then grabs some pole from beneath the four-poster bed.
“What is that?”
He smirks at me. The smirk is supposed to be cruel and sadistic but only ignites a deep pulse inside me. “A spreader bar, angel. I want you detained and spread wide open for me.” He fixes the bar between the two restraints clapped around my ankles. Slowly, he takes a step back and stares at me for a few long moments. “Perfect.”
I inhale a long slow breath, trying to calm myself down. My heart rate is firing at one-hundred miles an hour. “What are you going to do to me?”
Milo meets my gaze with his ice-cold blue eyes. “Anything I fucking well want.”
A shiver starts at the top of my head and runs right down my spine. My eyes remain locked on him as he moves to the nightstand and opens it, searching for something. When he finishes, he’s holding a blindfold in one hand and a vibrator in the other.
He doesn’t say a word as he places the blindfold over my eyes. A thrilling panic rises inside of me as I can no longer see the predator who has me cornered. There’s something uneasy about not being able to see and being tied at a man’s mercy. It makes me feel so weak and insignificant. “Let me fucking go,” I shout, wrestling against the restraints as the reality of the situation overpowers me. “I don’t like this.”
The buzz of the vibrator cuts in, and it feels like my entire body is on fire. Milo presses it against my clit and turns it on high, making my hips rise involuntarily from the bed. “Fuck,” I shout.
Milo chuckles a deep laugh that increases the pleasure. There is most certainly something fundamentally wrong with me.
I should hate the man who is enjoying having me at his mercy. Instead, I never want him to stop toying with me. My nipples are hard, painful peaks as Milo adjusts the power of the vibrator, pushing me higher. “Oh my god,” I scream, knowing I’m about to tumble over the edge.
At that very moment, Milo turns the vibrator off. “Not yet, angel,” he purrs.
I grunt in frustration, shaking my head. “Why the fuck are you torturing me?”
He laughs. “If I were torturing you, then you would be in a lot of pain.”
“You know what I mean,” I say, feeling exasperated by my husband. “Can you at least take this damn blindfold off?”
He growls like a beast, and suddenly I feel his hand around my throat. “You have no say in what happens, Aida. I’m in control. Open your mouth.”
I hesitate, which earns me a hard spank on my thigh.
“Now,” he orders.
I open my mouth, and suddenly I feel his heavy, hot cock slide to the back of my throat. I gag instantly, but he doesn’t stop. All I can do is focus on my breathing and try to use the techniques I googled in The Bahamas.
“That’s it, angel. Fuck. Your throat feels like heaven on daddy’s cock.”
I feel my body responding to his dirty talk and relaxing into the submissive position he has forced me into.
He continues to fuck my throat for a while, leaking salty precum down it. When he finally pulls back, I hear him groan almost in protest. “You’re going to learn how good it feels when I deny your release. It is a euphoric feeling.”
The buzz of the vibrator makes my thighs quiver in anticipation. Milo presses it against my clit, making me jolt. My body coils from the pleasure Milo is coaxing from me with the device. He’s slower this time, starting on a lower setting which is infuriating. “Oh fuck,” I shout when he has me almost ready to combust.
He turns the device off and leaves me a panting, unsatisfied mess.
“Fuck’s sake,” I say out of frustration, squirming in my restraints.
Suddenly, Milo’s cock slides deep inside of me without warning.
The shock of it makes me tense as every inch of his huge cock slides inside of me. “What the fuck–”
Milo bites my lip, stopping me from saying another word. “All I want to hear coming from your dirty fucking mouth is yes, daddy,” he growls.
It frustrates me how my mind and body obey him on instinct. “Yes, daddy,” I cry, as he fucks me hard and deep–so deep I don’t know where he begins, and I end anymore.
He grunts like an animal above me, driving me closer and closer to release. I watch him as he searches my eyes. There’s a wild and frantic glint. We’re both desperate for each other.
“Oh fuck, yes, daddy, I’m going to come,” I scream.
Milo chuckles and pulls out of me. “Not yet, angel.”
I growl in frustration.
“Or should I say, tiger?” he teases, kissing a path down my neck. “You’ll thank me when I let you come.”
This tango between us goes on for what feels like an eternity. Milo denies both of us our releases, fucking my pussy and throat repeatedly. Licking me close to climax only to stop at the last minute or using the vibrator.
By the time he brings me close again, I’m exhausted and almost crying. “Please, daddy. I need to come,” I beg, feeling tears welling in my eyes.
He fucks me with slow, torturous strokes that drive me insane. “Is that right, angel? Do you think you deserve to come?”
I nod. “Yes, daddy. I’ve done everything you asked, please.” I sound like a whining little brat, but that’s what he’s reduced me to. I’m desperate and needy like a fucking whore.
“Okay, angel. I’m going to fuck you until you come on my cock.” He bites my bottom lip before kissing me deeply. His thrusts become faster and harder as he grunts above me. Our bodies meet in a frantic, primal clash of skin on skin as he no longer teases me.
My hard nipples graze against his muscular chest as he fucks me. Despite my exhaustion, the pleasure is unparalleled. Each time he brought me close to climax, it felt better than the last—promising that he will be true to his word.
“I’m going to breed your little pussy and fill you with so much cum you’ll be dripping for hours.” He digs his fingertips into my thighs and plows into me harder, the spreader bar keeping me wide open. “I want you to come all over my cock, princess,” Milo says.
It feels like my soul leaves my body the moment he pushes me over that edge. Every muscle in my body spasms at the force of my orgasm. I feel a gush of wetness spreading over my thighs.
“Fuck, yes,” Milo groans. “Come like a good girl.” Hi
s voice is deep and husky. For the first time, Milo sounds out of control.
He roars as he comes too, flooding my pussy with his seed. Breeding me the way he promised he would.
It feels like I’m floating on a cloud. No longer aware of anything but the white-hot pleasure that Milo makes me feel. A pleasure beyond anything I ever could have imagined. It blows my mind. My vision turns white, and I wonder if I’ve died from too much of a good thing.
It takes what feels like a few minutes for me to return to the present. Milo is already undoing the cuffs around my ankles and removing the spreader bar. A sudden sense of emptiness sweeps over me.
Milo made me feel better than I believe possible, but as he quickly clears up, hardly glancing in my direction, he erases all of that in an instance. Milo will never answer my need for him to me the way I long to be held.
Once he unshackles my wrists, he does get under the covers with me. My longing to have him hold me goes unanswered as he gently places a hand over mine.
I glance at his face, which is impossible to read. The cold, emotionless has returned to his eyes. He’s bringing down a wall between us after such an intimate moment.
I focus on the warmth of his hand on mine. It makes me feel safe for some reason, even though this man is anything but safe. He’s dangerous, and feeling anything but hatred for him gives him too much power over me.
Too bad I think the ship has already sailed on that front. Milo holds my heart in his hand, and he could crush it at any moment.
I wake the next morning, turning over to find Milo’s side of the bed empty and cold.
Rubbing a hand across my face, I groan. My obsession with my husband is worse after last night. I saw a side to Milo that makes my feelings for him more confusing.
I hate him for the way he rips away my liberties and commands me like I’m a slave. However, it’s impossible not to love how I feel when he touches me. His roughness is addictive.
The sound of the bathroom door opening surprises me, and I look in that direction. Milo exits the bathroom with a towel loosely hanging from his hips. His dark hair is wet and slicked back and beads of water roll down his perfectly chiseled chest covered in dark tattoos.