Page 22 of Her Wicked Husband (The Huxleys #2)

Before the back of her skull can hit the carpet, I’m already on her, straddling her, closing my hand around her neck, tight enough to threaten, not injure. The fire in my veins feels wrong. My brain says what I’m doing is fucked up, but my body wants to rip her dress off and violate her.

What the hell is the point of this drug? To manipulate me? To blackmail me? My cock throbs. I wouldn’t put anything past Mom or Harvey.

“Who sent you?” I demand between clenched teeth.

“Nobody. I just…want you. Heard you were a good boy.” She smiles coyly, her eyes flicking between my eyes and mouth. “I’ve always dreamed of corrupting one.”

A good boy . My skin crawls. Mom . Her poisoned words ring in my head in a loop. You’re such a good boy. My good boy. I can always count on you. I love you the most. My good boy, I love you, good boy, good boy—

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I scream in my head to break the cycle before the nightmarish memories overtake me. I’m nobody’s good boy. I don’t need any fucking love.

Just control.

I lean down, my face half an inch from Red’s. “Listen very carefully. You tell Zoe Dunkel I’m not playing her game. I don’t give a shit about her or what she wants. She isn’t my family. Next time she pulls something like this, I’m going to end her.”

Red swallows, the seductive bravado suddenly gone. “Aren’t you just a lawyer?”

“ Just a lawyer?” I let out a nasty laugh. “You know whose blood flows in my veins?”

She flinches. She knows who I am—a grandson of the biggest and nastiest mob boss in Nesovia. The desire to take my fury out on her is as strong as the need to fuck her right now before my cock explodes.

I could push her skirt up, rip off her panties and shove my dick into her now, and she wouldn’t say a word. A few good thrusts, and the pressure that’s been building will be gone.

Wouldn’t that feel amazing? Do it. Just take her .

No way. The drug keeps breaking down my inhibitions and defenses, steering me toward the basest path. I grit my teeth. It’s not going to beat me. I. Am. In. Control!

I pull away from her, then stand up. “Get out.”

She rolls to her hands and knees and pushes herself up. Stumbling on her heels, she scrambles out as quickly as she can.

The second the door slams, I impatiently unbuckle my pants and shove them and my boxers down below my ass.

My cock springs out, swollen and thick, angrily red and veins throbbing.

I grip it tightly. The heated slickness coats my dry palm.

My nervous system screams for relief. The touch is both relief and agony.

I groan deep in my throat as I pump my hand and jerk my pelvis desperately. If I can just blow my load once, the pressure won’t be so unbearable. As I fuck my own fist, my mind conjures up images of Fiona.

How much I want to bend her over and ram into her. How much I want to keep my cock inside her until she forgets what it’s like to have her pussy empty. I want to hear the sounds she’ll make when she can’t take it anymore. When she’s too raw and every thrust is equal parts pleasure and pain.

I curse as my spine stiffens, and streams of white shoot from the tip of my cock. It splashes on the carpet, and a deep regret unfurls that it isn’t somewhere on Fiona instead.

I breathe hard, wait for my cock to settle down, but it only hardens further in my hand. I let go and step back. Whatever Mom fed me won’t let me rest.

Damn it.

The priceless silk of my suit feels like sandpaper scraping me raw. I rip out of my clothes, discarding them like trash on the floor. But it isn’t enough to give me peace. Now the air feels unbearable on my bare skin.

I don’t know how long the effect will last, but I can’t return home like this. I don’t know what I’ll do if I see Fiona.

My dick aches fiercely at the thought of her. I bite my lip and throw myself on the bed. The cool sheet provides some brief relief to my hot body. I let out a soft breath, relaxing a little, even though my dick’s harder than ever .

But the respite is short. The fire in my gut burns brighter, greedier. I want to bury myself balls deep in Fiona and explode inside her.

Not just to get over this intolerable erection, but to regain the sense of peace she gave me when she held me in her arms back in college. My body would go lax, her fingertips gliding lovingly from the base of my skull all the way to the bottom of my spine, as though to push the nightmares away.

My teeth clench. That phase of my life is over. It’s never coming back. There’s only sex between us now.

I grip a pillow until my knuckles turn white and squeeze my eyes shut.

A big mistake. My mind is instantly full of her—the soft sound of her voice.

The view of her finger dipping into the opening of her pussy, her swollen clit ignored.

How much I wanted to suck it into my mouth yesterday and push her to a brutal climax.

If she hadn’t had the wedding dress around her, I might’ve lost myself in her like we had traveled back in time.

I move against the mattress, pushing against its softness like it’s Fiona. But of course it can’t compare. Every time I sink into her, I feel like I’m rediscovering heaven.

Even after the betrayal, she can still make me feel like she’s my safe place.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. How stupid am I? How pathetic—

I come again, the sticky fluid coating my belly. But the lust doesn’t dissipate. My dick doesn’t even soften halfway before it’s hard again.

I flip over, throw an arm over my eyes. My breathing grows more labored. What the hell… How long is this going to last?

My phone rings, the sound jarring. I ignore it, but it keeps ringing. I concentrate on slowing my racing heartbeat, but the lust only increases, until it’s burning like an inferno.

Not letting my body control me . I grit my teeth and focus on evening out my breathing. Come on. One, two, three …

Suddenly I freeze as I realize my hips are moving.

A sense of shame and helplessness lances my heart.

A scream wells in my chest. I need something to distract myself—dissociate myself—from this.

But I can’t think of anything except how delicious Fiana looked this morning and how much I regret not taking advantage .

The phone rings again. Relief washes over me. Maybe it’s Josh. He probably decided the girl of the night wasn’t his soul mate.

I hit the green button without looking at who’s calling. Through the speaker comes a familiar voice.

“Bryce? When are you going to be home?”

Fiona . A blaze sweeps through me, and my heart pounds. “Shit.”

“What? You told me to put on something sexy and wait for you.”

My mind grasps “something sexy,” and my dick throbs. I clench my hand around the phone.

She says, “It’s already eleven.”

She sounds irritated, but her voice is somehow nonetheless soothing. I grit my teeth. I can’t have her see me like this, when I’m out of my mind. I might say something I’ll regret, reveal something I shouldn’t.

Need a distraction. “How did you get my number?” Part of me wants to beg her to come and put me out of my misery. No. Hell no .

“How did I—?” A huff. “You never changed it! Look, if you aren’t going to be home soon, I’m going to bed and docking it off the number. It’s you who’s bailing on this ‘date,’ not me.”

Go to bed . But the words catch in my throat as I struggle for control. Finally, I grit out: “The Aylster. Presidential suite. Now .”

The second the words are out, I bite my lip hard, the bitter taste of blood filling my mouth.