Page 16 of Shattered King

Fiorella

I ’m not really a gym girlie, but there’s something about working myself out to the edge of exhaustion that really puts my problems into perspective.

Mainly, it makes me forget everything but the sweet agony of getting fit.

And luckily, Luca has one heck of an exercise equipment collection in the basement.

It’s late when I hear him come home. I should be upstairs in bed, but I can’t sleep.

There’s something about this house that makes me uncomfortable.

I’m pretty sure it’s the sound. There’s too much quiet.

I’m used to the creaks and groans of my dad’s place where I grew up, but there’s nothing like that here.

Just an unfamiliar bed, a strange ceiling, and total silence.

I don’t tell him that, though. I can already guess what he’d say. Sleep in my bed, princess, and we’ll make plenty of noise , or something equally dumb. I knew marrying Luca wouldn’t be easy, but I had no clue it would be this deeply frustrating.

It’s after midnight by the time I feel exhausted enough to sleep.

I’m all gross and sweaty as I head upstairs in just a sports bra and a pair of running tights.

I should probably cover up on account of my sexy-as-hell husband and my apparent lack of self-control, but screw it.

This is my house too, right? I should be allowed to wear whatever I want to exercise in, and that basement is stuffy.

I’m not changing just for some guy I didn’t even want to marry in the first place.

I’m annoyed at a fictional version of Luca and already having a fake argument with him in my head (one I’m winning, obviously) as I head into my bedroom.

And come to a halt.

“You motherfucker…” I stare at the bed. Or what’s left of it, anyway.

The mattress is cut in half straight down through the frame.

He didn’t even take the bedding off. The sheets are shredded. Pillow stuffing is tossed all over like a grisly crime scene. The wooden frame’s slumped inwards.

How the hell did he even manage to pull this off?

I’m impressed for half a second.

Then I’m deeply pissed off.

Because there’s no other bed in this house.

I storm to his room, too furious to stop myself.

The pranks have gone far enough. I need to be able to live here, and I deserve a little comfort and privacy.

That’s just basic human decency, right? I throw open his door, ready to tell him off so brutally he breaks down in tears, but all my anger suddenly fizzles and dies.

Luca’s coming out of the bathroom in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, a towel draped around his shoulders.

His hair’s still damp. His skin glistens slightly. He looks up at me, not surprised to see me there staring at him with an open mouth like a kid seeing Santa’s workshop for the first time, not even angry that I caught him coming out of the shower and mostly naked, just slightly amused.

Like this was his plan the whole time.

My god, this isn’t fair.

The man is a specimen .

I swear, he must’ve been grown in a vat or something. I’m not even kidding. It’s like some mad scientist decided to make Frankenstein, except instead of a hideous monster, he ended up with pure godlike sexual perfection.

Luca’s got tattoos. He’s covered in dark, vicious ink.

Wings across his chest. Guns on his ribs.

A wolf eating the moon. Roses dripping blood.

More images I can barely comprehend, mostly because they disappear into the (much too small) space covered by his boxer briefs.

He’s got those muscles, that stupid mind-melting V pointing straight down to his bulging dick.

Not that I’m staring at his package. But actually, yeah, I’m staring at his package, because I remember what it feels like to have that thing tearing me up inside, and I suddenly very much want to taste it again.

“If you’re coming to bed, feel free to get undressed first.” He casually stands there, hands gripping either end of his towel, and that confident smirk finally snaps me out of my horny-brain-induced staring coma.

“You cut my bed in half,” I snap at him, trying very hard to ignore the fact that my cheeks are crimson with aroused embarrassment.

“Yes, I did.”

“How the hell did you even manage to do that? And what is wrong with you?”

“I used a chainsaw.” He tilts his head, lips pressed together like he’s trying not to smile. “And there’s a lot wrong with me. Should we start a list?”

“You’re such a prick.” Anger starts to overwhelm my good sense. A smart girl would turn and run. Apparently, I’m the biggest dummy in the world, because I charge at him.

He looks mildly surprised as I slam my hands into his chest and try to shove him back.

It’s like moving a brick wall. He doesn’t even flinch. His eyebrows raise as he looks down at my hand pressed against his bare chest. I’m cupping his muscles like I’m feeling him up. And honestly, now that my hands are on him, I kind of am.

He’s incredible.

It’s so unfair.

“Did you just put your hands on me, wife?” he asks very softly.

I set my jaw, aware that I crossed a line and am absolutely in the wrong now, but too stubborn to admit it. “You used a chainsaw on my bed.” I try to push him again. I succeed in kneading his incredible pecs instead. “You have absolutely no respect ?—”

“You want to talk about respect?” He grabs my wrists so fast I can barely see him move.

He twists me to the side, shoving me back until I bang against the wall with a gasp.

He pins my hands above my head, snarling and dominating me, the world going dark as his head looms in front of my face.

“You put your hands on me, wife . You did it in anger.”

“What do you think you’re doing right now?” I snap through my teeth, trying to twist away, but his grip’s like iron.

“I’m not angry.” He’s sneering at me, mouth so close to mine I can smell his minty breath. Must’ve brushed recently. Perfect bastard.

I loathe how much I want him.

I hate his arrogant grin.

And I despise the fact that I can see how hard his cock’s getting.

Straining against his boxer briefs.

Holy fucking shit .

I snap my gaze up, my entire chest flushing pink now.

“Then let me go,” I say quietly. Coming in here was a huge mistake. I should’ve grabbed a blanket and slept on the couch downstairs. But he probably would’ve cut the couch in half next until I was forced to curl up on the floor like a dog. And then he would’ve cut the floor in half.

“I want you to apologize,” he says softly. He leans forward, his lips brushing my neck. And fuck, I am so weak despite how hard I try to stay strong, because it makes me whimper like a pathetic little girl.

“Absolutely not,” I say as he leans against me, crushing his hard cock into my hip.

Fuuuuuck, that’s so hot.

I want him to ruin me.

And if he weren’t so close, I’d knee him until he pissed blood.

That’s probably why he’s leaning into me. To protect himself. Right? Just that?

“What kind of wife wants to hurt her husband?” He sounds amused now, the bastard. “Apologize and this can be done.”

I grit my teeth. I did put my hands on him in anger. He’s got a point, even if I clearly did absolutely no damage. I shouldn’t have done it, and maybe saying a few dumb little words will end this nightmare.

“Fine, I apologize,” I snap at him. “Would you let me go?”

“Not accepted.”

I suck in a frustrated breath and struggle. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I said sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have tried to push you like that. I was just pissed.”

“No, baby, you need to learn that there are consequences to your actions. You can’t just lash out at someone. You don’t get to solve your problems with violence. Not when it comes to someone you care about.”

“Who says I care about you?”

“The way your heart’s racing says you do. The blush in your cheeks says you do. The way you keep looking at me like you want to fuck me until I’m dead says you do.” He gets close, mouth right against my ear. “ I fucking say you care, baby.”

“Fuck you.”

“Such a feisty one.”

“Let go of me.”

“I think your punishment is going to be simple.” He kisses the shell of my ear.

I close my eyes, breathing hard, fighting back a moan.

Tingles fill my core as arousal floods my body.

Damn stupid vagina is a coward and a traitor .

“I’m going to spank your pretty ass until it’s pink and raw. And then I’m going to make you come.”

My eyes go wide. “Wait, hold on, I can apologize again?—”

Too late. He pulls back but only enough to spin me around. My palms press against the wall, and I arch my back, shoving my hips toward him as he roughly wrenches my workout shorts down over my ass, exposing my bare skin.

The snarl he makes is pure animal lust. It’s got to be the sexiest noise I’ve ever heard in my life. He grips my hair with his left hand, fisting it tightly.

I could get away. It might hurt, but I could do it. He’s not keeping me pinned here anymore, and we both know it. The only reason I’d submit to this little punishment is simple?—

It’s because I want it.

I turn my head slightly, cheek pressed to the cool wall, and stare at him.

His eyes burn with pure desire. He wants me so fucking bad it’s incredible. His cock is rock hard, straining his boxer briefs, and there’s a little wet mark from the precum leaking out.

My god. This man is losing his mind for me.

Just like I’m going wild for him.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he whispers, and then he spanks me hard enough to make me gasp in shock. “Taking your punishment. I knew you’d fucking like it.”

“Get it over with,” I say through my teeth, fighting back moans.

“You want me to hurry?” He smirks, rubbing one hand down my spine and cupping my ass. “I’d rather take my time.”

“Don’t be a bastard.”

His grip on my hair pulls. “You like it when I’m a bastard,” he says, glaring death at me.

Death and sin and mindless bliss. “Tell me you love it. You want me to ruin you, don’t you, Fiorella?

You stomp around acting like such a tough girl, but deep down, you’re as wet and needy as everyone else.

You just need a man to crack through your thick armor.

Tell me you want to whine for me, little slut. Tell me you want me to break you.”

“Go to hell,” I whisper. But drag me there with you .

He spanks me again, then buries his mouth on mine.

I moan into his kiss, brain finally breaking.

His tongue invades past my teeth, hungry, exploring, devouring.

It’s the most sinful kiss I’ve ever experienced.

Half punishment, half reward. I wriggle against him, and he spanks me again, and again, kissing me, licking my tongue, biting my lower lip, over and over.

I moan into that kiss, whimper, groan, losing myself completely to him.

I gasp for air as he pulls back, his lips red and puckered, his eyes burning.

My ass aches from his palm. He gets behind me, roughly wrenching my sports bra up, and teases my breasts with his hands, kneading my stiff nipples.

I stay where I am, his hard cock rubbing against my raw ass, hands above my head and my legs spread.

“What a good girl,” he whispers. “Do you know how good you taste? Do you have any idea? You want me to bury my big dick inside your beautiful little cunt, but that’s not what you’re getting, baby.

No, I’m going to taste you until you come, and when you’re done, I’m going to shove my fingers deep into your mouth and make you choke on yourself. Do you understand me, little slut?”

“Fuck, you really are a bastard,” I say, goading him, because I want him so bad it hurts.

He drops to his knees behind me. Even though I’m sweaty from my workout, he doesn’t hesitate to spread my ass and tongue my pussy from behind. I gasp, arching myself, and his tongue slides in and out expertly, eating me like his favorite dish.

It feels so fucking good. Right until he spanks me again.

“Fuck!” I look over my shoulder in shock. He plunges his fingers inside me, going deep. Bliss slams into my brain and my eyes roll back. “Fuuuuck,” I say, same word, different meaning.

He spanks me again, and again, then licks me and eats me, alternating pleasure and pain, controlling and dominating me, until I’m right there riding along the edge. I can’t think, can’t breathe. All I want is release. All I want is him.

Until he buries his tongue inside my pussy and reaches around my hip to stroke my clit with two fingers.

“Come for me, princess,” he whispers, licking and stroking faster. “Come for me, baby. Let me taste it. Come on my fucking face.”

I shatter like glass on concrete. I break for this fucking man, this controlling asshole beast, this sexy-as-sin killer, this everything I should hate. I come and come, and he doesn’t stop until I’m shaking so hard I feel like I might fall over.

And finally, when I’m done, he carries me to bed. His strong arms wrap around my body, and he gently lays me down on top of the mattress. He curls up beside me, and just as he promised, he shoves his fingers into my mouth.

“Clean them off,” he commands.

And I do it. Like his filthy little slut. I lick him clean, pulse hammering between my legs the whole time.

“That’s my good girl.”

His arms wrap around me and pull me tight against his body.