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I feel my cock swell, stiffening against my thigh, and I feel entirely ashamed. But she’s remarkably beautiful—maybe the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
And she’s mine.
Looking at her, I can’t help but think what a painful irony it is that I’m seeing her like this, and shouldn’t relish the knowledge that I’ll be the one to sink into her soft, perfect heat tonight, making her mine entirely. I can’t imagine anyone else would look at her, and think: I have to fuck her tonight.
But I shouldn’t want this. I can’t.
Gia reaches for her wine glass, taking another drink. A droplet clings to her lower lip, and I feel a shiver run over my skin. She stands at the foot of the bed, the two of us at an impasse, and I see her gaze flick down to the front of my suit trousers.
“Maybe you aren’t having as much trouble getting it up as I thought you would have.” She tosses her hair, finishing off her wine, and putting the glass down before turning towards me. “Well? Aren’t you going to tell me what to do, husband?”
I shouldn’t let her get to me. Her bravado is hiding her nervousness, her fear—I feel certain of that. But as she steps forward, walking towards me brazenly as she leaves her robe puddled on the floor where she stood, I begin to wonder if I’ve misjudged her.
Before I can gather myself and think of what to say, Gia walks up to me, pressing her palm against the front of my trousers.
Right against my thickening cock.
My body reacts before I can think to rein it in. A beautiful, naked woman is pressing her hand against me, and my cock stiffens instantly, hard and aching under her touch. Her eyes narrow, her lips curving in a mocking smile.
“No desire here, hm? No lust?” She cocks her head to one side. “It’s bigger than I thought it would be.”
I grab her wrist, jerking her hand away and doing my level best to ignore the throbbing ache where her palm was a moment before.
I have misjudged her. I thought of her as barely more than a child, sweet and innocent, if capable of standing up for herself when she found something she thought she wanted. But the woman in front of me seems to have more of an idea about what she expects to happen tonight than I would have thought.
“What are you doing?” I tighten my grip around her wrist for a moment, before letting go and stepping back.
“Making sure my husband will be able to do his duty,” Gia smirks at me. “What’s next? You tell me to lay back on the bed—or would you rather have me bend over it? Do you want me down on my knees? What filthy things did you fantasize about, that made you decide to steal me away literally at the altar?”
Each word comes out like a hiss, dripping venom, her body coiled tight as a snake ready to strike. She intends to make this into a fight, I can tell. My head is swimming with a desire that I wasn’t prepared for, with urges that I know I shouldn’t give in to.
“How do you even know all of this?” I snap, retreating to more comfortable territory—outraged that Gia seems to be so well-informed about her wedding night. “Did your friends tell you all of this? What you should expect from your husband?”
“My friends all told me it was terrifying and painful,” she snaps. “But it wouldn’t have been for me. I know how I felt with Pyotr, those afternoons that we spent together, how he made me feel. It wouldn’t have been like that with him?—”
I close the space between us before I can stop myself, my hand on her arm as I glare down at her. “You will stop speaking his name in our bedroom. Do you understand? I don’t want to hear what fantasies Pyotr spun with you about your wedding night?—”
“No?” A cruel smile curves Gia’s mouth. “Don’t you want to know what I’ll be imagining while you fuck me?”
“Christ, woman!” I nearly snarl it, taking a step back as I shake my head, trying to rein in my anger. In a matter of moments, she’s managed to rouse me more quickly than anyone ever has—in more ways than one. “Are you even a virgin? Or was your father more of a fool than I thought, to allow your Bratva fiancé to court you in half-privacy?”
“Why does it matter?” Gia shoots back. God, but she’s beautiful when she’s angry, I can’t help but think, seeing her dark eyes snapping with fury, her full mouth pursed, her body poised as if she’s half-thinking of lunging at me. Everything I’ve ever thought about her, all the ways I’ve seen her all her life, crumble in the face of this woman in front of me. This Gia is someone I’ve never met before. I caught a glimpse of this side her, maybe, in my office when she demanded that the marriage be allowed to go forward. But not like this. “Why should any of that old-fashioned nonsense matter? Who cares if I’m a virgin?—”
She’s being difficult on purpose. I’m sure of it—there’s no way she and Pyotr could have gotten that far, but I’m past thinking clearly. I move towards her, and I see her quick intake of breath as I back her towards the bed, looming over her, my expression taut with anger and frustration.
“I care,” I growl. “You are my wife, Gia. I have a right to know if?—”
“I’m a virgin,” she hisses. “There you go. Does that turn you on? That’s what you want, isn’t it? Knowing there’s a tight little hole waiting for you that no one else has fucked before?”
“Watch your mouth.” I clench my hand into a fist, trying not to touch her until I have a rein on my emotions, on my arousal. I’m stunned to hear her speak that way, to hear that kind of filth coming from her pretty, innocent mouth—and at the same time, my cock is harder than it’s ever been. It feels as if all the blood in my body has taken up residence between my legs, throbbing with a near-painful ache, demanding relief.
“What are you waiting for?” she taunts, taking another step back, until her thighs hit the edge of the bed. One movement, that’s all it would take to topple her onto it. I’d worried that I wouldn’t be able to find it within myself to desire her, that I might not be able to get hard, that I’d both make a fool of myself and fail to protect her all at once. But this, I hadn’t expected.
I want her with a ferocity that shames me, and makes me nearly feral with need all at once. I can see everything that I want to do to her in my mind’s eye, the way I could turn her mocking taunts to mewling cries in moments, just by spreading her legs and showing her how it feels to have a man’s tongue on her sweet pussy. I could make her come again and again before I finally fuck her, leave her breathless and gasping, and make her apologize for all the things she’s said before I give her what she wants.
I could make her beg for me.
I could make her forget that there was ever supposed to be another man in her bed.
