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He stays quiet, but I can feel him practically vibrating with anger beside me.
Parker drops us off, and we make it into the building with nary a word until we're in the elevator. Maksim takes up all the space with his large, imposing-ness, and fuck if I'm not somewhere in-between wanting him to hold me and leave me the fuck alone.
I can feel him glaring down at me from the corner of his eye, and as soon as the elevator door opens to our (his) penthouse, my back is once again flush against the wall and his lips crash to mine. "Tell me who that cazzo is, Sabrina."
"No!" I gasp between kisses, trying to tear myself away, but he's so fucking strong. I have to figure out how I keep ending up in this position. His firm lips are brutal, interrupting our kiss to lick the corner of my mouth and kiss down to my jaw, behind my ear, my neck. Crowding me, I feel so disoriented. Chills explode through me. Oh god. "Stop it," I breathe. "I don't want this,” I lie.
"Bugiarda."Liar, he whispers hoarsely, calling me out and goddamn him. I am. That's all I do. I'm so tired of lying, of pretending, of fighting my want, myneedfor my husband, just like I'm tired of fightingmy feelings for Savage, keeping all of my emotions at bay or burying them so deep they feel like they consume me. It's exhausting.
But also, how dare he call me out like this?
A moan escapes me when his hands slip from my waist to the small of my back and down to the meat of my ass, spreading me apart. I'm up against the wall. My heels click together when my legs involuntarily wrap around his torso, and cross at the ankles. My arms around his shoulders, afraid he'll drop me, but I know he won't. His groin is hitting that sweet, perfect spot. I'm in hell, trapped with a demon king.
"I don't want you." I groan, trying to draw him closer or push him off is lost on me, all I feel is him, he smells so fucking good, invading my senses. I'm dizzy, losing myself to him.
I want to be lost. I want to forget.
"Bugiarda," his lips find mine again. One hand reaches back to my front and rips the front of my dress until my breasts spring free then reaches between us to do the same to my thong. The material smarts against the skin of my hip. He latches onto one nipple, sucking it deep into his perfect mouth. His free hand finds his zipper and he unleashes himself.
"I hate you," I cry out, and he curses when he expertly begins to glide his tip through my weeping entrance then shoves every fucking delicious thick inch of his cock so deep, I can feel my soul tearing in two.
“Such a filthy little liar, you're already soaking my balls and I'm barely halfway in.” He pulls back until just the tip resides in me. "Go on, say it again so I can fuck you like you've earned it."
"Fuck you," I spit, trying my best to slap him again, and he powers into me until his balls are flush against my ass, but I don’t dare cry out for mercy.
His face contorts into pure agony, holding himself back until my pussy betrays me again and clenches around him, drawing him deeper, swallowing him whole. I’m a sick slut because this pain, I want. Thisbrutalitythat comes with being Maksim Giordano’s wife, is the brutality I need. "You can be a spiteful bitch all you want later, but right now, this pussy needs to come for me."
"No!"
"Bugiarda," he chants.
"I"thrust"hate"thrust"you"thrust. "Oh,god." I squeal, my eyes rolling to the back of my head, my nails raking across his shoulder, pulling him tighter.Thrust, thrust, fuckingthrust.
This is how I die.
"Bugiarda," he grunts, lifting my breast to his lips by pinching the nipple with his thumb and index finger, and my pussy flutters with how good, how heavy, how warm his large hand feels on me. It's like everything about this man consumes my every thought, my every breath, my very being. I can't control the desire that coils through me, landing in my belly, the need for more is unrelenting.
My eyes roll back when I feel the heat of his tongue swipe against my already abused peak, crying out when he slaps it, then grasps the flesh, kneading it roughly. "You look at me when I'm inside of this pristine fucking pussy, Wife. My cock was fucking made to split you in half, little liar."
"Don't call me that," I pant, still trying to adjust to the sheer size of him invading me. "Oh god!"
"Not god. Yourhusband."
My eyes snap to his in a fucking glare, and I can't help when my hand comes down from his shoulder and I slap him.
Balls deep and eyes as dark as ebony, the fuckersmirksat me. He’s beautiful. So fucking beautiful, I want to look away, but I can’t tear my eyes off this beast, falling deeper into the darkness, letting it consume us both. "That's it Duchess, eyes on me when I'm inside of you. And when I'm inside of you, you devote every ounce of attention to me. To the way I fuck you."
I try so hard to tear my gaze from him, my mind wanting to retreat, but I stay where I am. I allow myself to feel how hot he is, every throb of his fat, velvety length stretching me to inhuman proportions, but I still need more. I reach between us to play with my clit, but he shoves my hand away.
"Mywife.Mypussy.Myorgasm.Iwill give it to you.Iwill own it. It'smine." He growls and for the love of everything unholy about this, he drapes my legs over his forearms and carries me up the fucking stairs without ever withdrawing from me, the softness of our mattress hitting my spine. His weight suffocates me, but it feels delicious, it feels right. It feels like fire. Dropping my legs he cages me in his arms, the change of angle makes the small thatch of hair on his pubis hit my clit.
"Maksim!"
"Is that it? Is that what my pussy needs to come?"
My nails rake down the muscular planes of his back, clawing him with each thrust. I need him closer. I need more.
"Answer your husband."