Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
His other hand wraps around my throat, and he smiles as he holds me against him. “You forget red is my favorite color.”
“This is a $100,000 dress.”
“The worth of the dress means fuck all when it’s the woman beneath it I want to unravel.”
I try to move away, but he tightens his grip. “You might not think this dress, this ring, or this wedding is for you. But you are my gift to unwrap until our agreement comes to an end. You think this dress is for everyone else? I couldn’t give a fuck what they think. It’s about my wife dressing for me. It’s about my wife tempting me even before she meets me at the end of the aisle. You look delectable in every dress you’ve tried on. It’s not the dress that’s the problem. It’s time you submit to this agreement entirely.”
His thumb circles my sensitive clit, and I want to wring his neck as much as I want him to continue. “So why don’t we have a momentary truce?” he suggests.
“Your mother is standing outside this room,” I whisper-shout.
“I’m not thinking about my mother, Kitten.” He presses himself more firmly against me. Through all the material, I can barely feel him, but I know he’s hard. His hand slips lower, and his fingers feather against my folds.
“This is sick,” I say, conscious of how heavy my flow is right now.
“You didn’t really think you were marrying a sane man, did you?” He chuckles as he gently tugs the string of my tampon. “As I’ve told you before, red is my favorite color.”
The moment the tampon is free from my body, he drops it to the floor. I gape in embarrassment at our reflections in the mirror, but he hisses as he inserts a finger into me, and my expression changes to a mixture of mortified and mesmerized.
“Admit it, it feels good,” he whispers into my ear. “Momentary truce?”
I don’t want to admit it. I want to tell him to stop. To tell him this is wrong. But my mouth is dry. And his fingers feel so good.
Maybe it’s the buzz of the champagne that’s locked up my words, leaving me only able to stare into his eyes, as if right now they’re the one thing keeping me from floating away. I eventually nod in answer to his question. Momentary truce or whatever the fuck it is we’re doing.
“Remove your panties,” he instructs as he steps back.
I gulp as I do as he says and then turn to face him. He watches as they slip down my legs to my ankles, and I step out of them. His nostrils flare as he undoes his pants, his cock springing free as he says, “On your knees.”
That’s when I notice the glisten of red on his fingers and want to shy away. “There is nothing about you that disgusts me, amore mio.” My heart squeezes at the endearment, but then I realize the type of sick monster he is when he brings his fingers to his lips. He licks them, and I fall to my knees. I’m unsure if I do it out of shock or because I can’t not do what he says in this moment. He’s so otherworldly in his sexual and primal demand, pushing me in ways I never thought possible. And it doesn’t repulse me. No, it calls to something in me I didn’t know was there.
“That’s a good girl,” he praises as he looks at me expectantly. I stare at his massive, veiny cock and lick my lips. The white dress pools around me, and despite the expensive garment I wear, he looks at me as if I’m a whore. My core floods with heat, and I lean forward for a taste. I lick a drop of pre-cum, the salty taste far more inviting than the bubbles of champagne that have clearly gone to my head.
I slide my mouth over his cock, my lips stretching to accommodate him. I fist him at the same time, unable to fit the length of him in my mouth. He brushes my cheek with the backs of his fingers, and I make a point not to look away as I try my best to take all of him. “So fucking beautiful on your knees for me, Kitten. Now, dig your claws in and make me come.”
He slips his hand to his back beneath his suit jacket, and a moment later, he pulls out a knife. “If you bleed, so do I.”
I pull back as he brings the tip of the knife to my chest. My breath hitches before I realize he’s cutting down the front of the dress.
“What are you doing?” I whisper frantically, freaking out that he’s so casually destroying a six-figure dress.
“We agreed on a slit, didn’t we?” He smirks. “Besides, your breathing is too shallow in this dress, and I want you to accommodate all of me.”