Page 23 of Darkest Craving

VICTORIA

H e called me love . In Russian. Like it meant something. Like I meant something. But then he walked away.

I’m wearing his shirt now, long enough to brush my thighs. On the balcony of his bedroom, I sip coffee I didn’t ask for and look out into the distance.

Trying to forget how I broke in front of him last night.

I don’t know where he left or when he’ll be back. But leaving like that reminded me he’s not a good man. And I knew it already, obviously, but I’m not so sure I believe it anymore.

Are you a bad person if you only kill other criminals?

Are you a bad person if you make your wife smile and make her come?

I shake my head, dismissing my thoughts. Because they’re crazy. Of course he’s bad. He’s bad for me, but God, he’s got the most beautiful golden-colored eyes. And he’s my husband. Mine.

The gates of the estate click open, groaning softly, a black car gliding into the driveway. Instantly, my heart rate picks up, my body inching forward, craving the sight of him, even though it could be anyone. But then… he steps out. I’m frozen, watching him move like a panther through tall grass.

He doesn’t look up right away. But when he does, when our eyes meet, it’s like we never left that bed at all. A smile tugs at his lips, and I melt into my seat, breath catching in my lungs.

He shuts the door to his car, and Ivan gets his attention to tell him something I can’t hear from here. I take the opportunity to get up and go back into the room, leaving the balcony doors open for fresh air. By the time he comes upstairs, I’ve already taken a quick shower and brushed my teeth.

Towel wrapped around my torso, I apply a moisturizing cream to my face when I see his reflection in the mirror.

“Sleep well?” he asks, leaning on the door frame.

Heat courses through me at how handsome he is doing that. At the way he dominates the space, even when he’s not standing straight up. I nod.

I thought about him last night. In fact, I thought about a lot of things pertaining to him.

“Come here.”

I turn to him, gripping the edges of the sink behind me before making the courage to walk. He doesn’t take his eyes off me. And usually, it makes me feel uneasy, exposed. But right now, what I feel isn’t that. It’s hunger. Intrigue. A little danger, too. The good kind.

I stop in front of him, tilting my head back to take him in. His cologne is hushed, musky, and he smells the same way he always does—clean and masculine, with a hint of musk and spice. It’s what I smelled like before I took a shower. And I want it back.

“Is it done?” I ask.

His eyes squint a little, like he wasn’t expecting this question. But he nods, and relief washes over me, even though I have no idea what his outing was all about. I guess, for whatever reason, I’m just glad he’s not hurt.

“I want to take you out today. Will you come with me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“I’ve always given you a choice, Victoria.”

It’s true. In his twisted ways, he has been doing that.

Never forced me to do anything I didn’t want to.

He could’ve raped me, hurt me—it’s what you would expect from powerful men like him who take what they want.

But he never did that. He even waited to have sex until we were married.

At least he has some kind of moral code he seems to be guided by, and that’s something I can respect.

Respect. A word I never thought I’d use to refer to him.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

I look away and shrug. “What are you thinking?”

He extends his hand between us, untying the loose knot at my chest, making my towel drop. But other than blinking, surprised, I don’t hide myself from him anymore. My body knows he’s safe. And as much as I don’t want to admit it, it wants to be seen and devoured. It wants him.

“That I would love to fuck your tight little ass.”

My lips part, his knuckles brushing my breast. Goosebumps come out in his wake, sending a tremor throughout my body.

He watches the action, seemingly fascinated by it—or by the way my skin reacts.

This used to be the part where I had some sort of comeback.

But right now, I’m thoughtless. The only words coming out of my mouth are—

“Will it hurt?”

Amusement—or delight—flickers in his eyes for a second. “Yes.”

“But you will make it… feel good.”

“Yes.”

Heat floods my core and I swallow hard, offering a nod.

His hand leaves my breast, my skin empty and wanton in his wake. Taking a step back, he turns and walks into the room. And like a tamed cat, I follow him, chasing his affection for once.

He takes a seat on the armchair in the corner, and I go to him, stopping naked between his parted knees.

“Good girl,” he purrs, looking up at me. “I want you to straddle my left thigh. Let me see your pussy wrap around me like that.”

I bite my lip. My brows pull together because I’m confused. But I do what he asks. My naked body makes contact with his expensive suit. The pressure to my clit is delicious, and I shift a little, seeking more friction.

“That’s it. Well done, love. Make yourself come.”

I exhale. “But you said…”

He pulls a butt plug out of his pocket, as if all of this was planned. I follow it with my eyes, noticing its size. Maybe this is a mistake. How will that fit inside me?

“Wolf…”

“Let me take care of you.” He leans forward, cupping my jaw with his wide palm, pressing a kiss to the other side. “You know I can.”

I do, and that fact is undeniable. I shiver at the touch of his lips, and my head falls back, eyes closed as I start swaying my hips back and forth. The material of his slacks is smooth but rough at the same time. It’s not skin, but it feels so good I start moaning in almost no time.

“So beautiful. You’re making me so proud,” he whispers.

I’m panting. My pussy leaks on his thigh, making the area wet and warm. I should worry about getting him dirty, but I don’t. I’m a little embarrassed, maybe, but the way he praises me wipes the feeling off my mind.

A hand reaches behind me, pulling my ass cheek open. I can feel the air caressing me there, in my tightest spot. A moan shakes my chest. He keeps praising me at the same time. His fingers trail over my hole, probing me, before one of them dips inside.

“Such a tight little ass,” he whispers in my ear while I hump his thigh.

I reach for his neck, wrapping my arms around him for stability as he works his finger in and out of my ass.

Pleasure floods me, squeezing my walls, drawing his name from my lips.

If this is what he can do with his hands, I can’t imagine what he’ll do with his cock.

Wolf groans as he kneads my ass cheek with his other hand. He slaps it once, and the pain sizzles before it turns into pleasure. I rub myself in short, clipped thrusts, finding the tip of my orgasm through the movement. If I keep going like this, I’ll come.

His finger exits, replaced by a cold, wet metal.

“Shhh, relax for me. You’ll take this first before you can take my cock.”

I nod, mouth parted, face scrunching under the stretch of my hole.

“Wolf… it hurts. It hurts,” I whimper, my pussy pulsing against his thigh.

“You’re doing so well, love. Fuck, I wish you could see yourself right now.”

I melt a little when he says that, relaxing my body, and it gives him the opportunity to push the plug deeper inside me. It doesn’t hurt as much this time and I feel so full. The only thing missing is having him in my mouth.

“Oh my God … ”

A kiss on my temple makes me shiver in his arms. “Come for me, Victoria.”

My hips thrust forward one last time before pleasure floods me again—stronger, harder. My legs shake, and I’m frozen in an arched position, my head back, feeling every spasm, every throb. Every wave of arousal washing out of me one by one.

Wolf leans back in his chair, watching me as I struggle to take back control of my breathing pattern.

Suddenly, I realize his hands are empty, and my hole feels fuller than before I came.

“Go put on something pretty. We’re going out.”

“What, like this ?” I say, my face heating up. “What if… what if someone figures it out? I don’t think this is a good idea—”

“The only way someone would know I stuffed my wife with a plug in her ass is if they looked under your skirt. But by the time they do that, they’d already be dead.”

He doesn’t smile when he says it, and I know he means it. Which would scare me, if I wasn’t fucked in the head. My heart flutters. The only thing that makes me agree is that I’m pretty sure no one would be stupid enough to get that close to me in the first place. Not with him around.

“Okay,” I say, taking in a long breath.

I’m still on his thigh, naked and wet, sitting in my own arousal, my pussy pulsing softly. I wonder if he feels me through the material of his pants. His hand cups my face, and he looks me dead in the eye.

“Now be a good girl and lick my clothes clean from the mess you made.”

WOLFGANG

Something is different about my wife. About myself, too. I told her I wanted to fuck her ass, and instead of spitting in my face, she asked me if I’d hurt her. And if I’d make it feel good.

Either I’m coming up with signs that aren’t there or maybe, just maybe, she’s coming around. Maybe she’s not afraid of me anymore. Maybe she sees me. And chooses to be mine.

When she lowers herself between my knees, my cock hardens beyond what I thought was possible.

She watches me, her eyes blue and hooded, with whatever innocence still swarming there about to vanish into thin air.

Her tongue darts out, pink and soft. And the next thing I know, she licks the wetness she left on my pants.

I’m frozen. Time flows and stretches, dispersing, and all I know is her and the faint feel of her tongue.

I groan, my chest heavy. This is the prettiest she’s ever been—right here, tasting herself and the proof of what I do to her.

My cock grows and grows, but I refrain from shoving it down her throat.

From doing other filthy things to her. At least, until we get back.

When she’s done, she licks her lips and leans back on her heels, watching me like she wants more. Like she’s not satiated, like she knows I own her, and only I can give her what she wants. My lips tug at the corner.

I bring my hand behind her head and pull her into me, pressing my mouth to hers. So fucking sweet. The taste of her cunt lingers. Maybe now she’ll understand why I love to lick her.

“Good girl. When we get back, we’re fucking that beautiful ass. Yes, love?”

She nods, breathless and mesmerized.

“Go get dressed. Let’s get you out of here.”

She gets up and with quiet grace, she heads into the walk-in closet, giving me a sight of her round ass and the ruby that's peeking out of her hole.

Satisfaction, pride, amusement—they all course through me at the same time. Because finally, after so much going on between us, my wife has become my slut. She falls to her knees, starving, desperate, mine. And I fucking love it.

But something else is growing inside me… a sickness taking root in my mind. I tried denying it, I really tried. And yet, I no longer think what we have is enough.

I want more.

I want every broken shard, every breath, every goddamn thought she ever has.

I want the thing she guards, the thing no one’s ever touched.

Her fucking heart. And I want it now.