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“I’m not going to fuck you,” he says stiffly, pulling my leggings down further, over my knees, down to my calves. “I’m going to teach you a lesson.”
I stare up at him like he’s lost his mind, while I try to ignore the sudden heat that washes through me the moment he says it. My blood suddenly feels too warm in my veins, my skin tingling, that ache forming between my thighs again. “What the fuck are you talking about?—”
“Language, Gia.” He keeps me effortlessly pinned with one hand, and for the first time, I realize just how strong he is. I noticed his muscles on our wedding night, when he took his shirt off, but it didn’t really sink in. Even this morning, when he grabbed my arms, it wasn’t as clear as it is right now.
That heat builds. The ache grows stronger. I feel the dampness between my thighs, a throbbing in my clit as my breath catches. And I know Salvatore sees all of it, and I hate him a little more for it.
“You’re a spoiled brat,” he says casually. His other hand, the one not pinning me down, touches my left knee. “You need a lesson in obeying your husband. I could spank you, lock you in our room, deny you anything other than time to think about your attitude. But instead, I think I’m going to show you how ridiculous you’re being. Acting as if I’m hurting you when all I’ve done is protect you. When all I did on our wedding night was give you pleasure. And yet you still fight me and act as if you’re a prisoner of war.”
“You’re hurting me,” I hiss. “You’re keeping me locked up in this house, confined to your estate. I am a prisoner, and I don’t want you?—”
“Don’t you?” Salvatore’s voice rasps, his gaze darkening. “Open your legs, Gia.” He turns, reaching for one of the blocks that I used for my workout, and grabs my shoulder, lifting me up so that he can slide it under my shoulders. I start to try to twist away, but his hand holds me in place, his gaze full of warning. “Accept your lesson, Gia. Don’t fight me.”’
I want to fight him. I want to thrash and scream and hit him. I want to run. But there’s something else, too. A blooming curiosity spreading through me, and the memory of what he did on our wedding night, the desire to know what there is that’s more. I don’t want to let him follow through with whatever he’s doing—and I’m also not sure I want him to stop. The ache throbs between my legs, and I look at Salvatore, suddenly frozen.
“Open your legs,” he repeats, and nudges my knees apart. “Do as I say, Gia, and you’ll learn another lesson in pleasure. Isn’t that what you want?”
“Not from you,” I hiss, and he laughs darkly.
He pushes my legs open with his arm, no longer waiting for me to obey. His hand slides down my stomach, down to the curls between my thighs, and I gasp as I feel his fingers slide between my folds, spreading them open. “Look,” he demands.
“At what?” I hiss, breathless, turning my head away. “At you assaulting me?”
“I’m not doing any such fucking thing,” he snarls, losing his composure for a brief second before regaining it. “You’re lying when you say you don’t want me, Gia. Look.”
When I refuse, his hand leaves my chest, wrapping in my ponytail. He turns my head to the mirror, keeping my chin tipped up so that I can see my reflection. Half-undressed, my leggings at my ankles, my legs spread. Salvatore’s fingers spread the folds of my pussy, displaying me for his view and mine, and for the first time, I see the most intimate part of myself.
He shifts, moving so that he’s next to me, his voice in my ear as he holds me open. “Look at yourself, Gia,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “You’re wet, wife. Flushed and pink.” His fingers rub along my folds, and I clench my teeth to keep from making a sound. “Your pretty little clit, about to peek out for me. To swell and harden, while I rub it for you. You’ve been a very bad girl. But this is your lesson—and your punishment.”
Salvatore moves then, shifting behind me, moving the block so that suddenly I’m trapped against his chest. His legs move mine apart, holding me, his hand still spreading my pussy as his other moves to stroke my clit. “You’re going to watch,” he murmurs in my ear. “Watch while I make you come, Gia. See all your body’s reactions to what I do to you. And then, lie to me again about whether or not you want what neither of us have chosen.”
I start to snap that he did choose this, that he did steal me at the altar, but I can’t find the words. The index finger of his other hand rubs over my clit, and I feel it swell and throb under his touch, more of my arousal wetting his fingers as a rush of desire tightens my stomach and makes me whimper.
I feel the vibration of Salvatore’s chuckle at my back. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his finger rubbing back and forth. My head starts to fall back against his shoulder, and he stops abruptly, his fingers entirely still on my aching pussy.
“Don’t—” I start to say, and then stop myself, sinking my teeth into my lower lip. Salvatore’s dark laugh spreads through him again, rumbling against me.
“You’re already learning your lesson, wife. Good.” He keeps his hands still. “Watch me, Gia. Look in the mirror. I won’t let you come until you do. And every time you look away, or close your eyes, I’ll stop. I don’t care how close you are.”
I want to fight him. I do. I don’t want to obey. But the aching pulse that’s taken up residence between my thighs is stronger than my will to resist, at this moment.
I open my eyes, and look in the mirror.
I look lewd. My face is flushed, my hair falling out of my ponytail, half-naked, while Salvatore sits behind me, fully clothed. And between my legs?—
I’m a wet mess. The curls of my pubic hair are soaked, Salvatore’s fingers spreading my swollen folds wide, my clit visible against his index finger. He has my legs open wide enough that I can see everything, down to my clenching entrance and the tight hole beneath, and I feel my face burn hotter with embarrassment.
“You’re going to come for me, wife. And you’re going to watch while I do it.” Salvatore growls in my ear, and his fingers begin to move again.
He knows the rhythm I like, remembers it clearly from the first night he was in bed with me. His fingertip circles my clit slowly, then faster, up and down, stroking me with merciless precision as he keeps my pussy open for us both to see. I feel the ridge of his cock against my spine, impossibly hard, and I know he must be aching. But he only strokes my clit, rubbing faster, and then slower again, pushing me closer to the edge.
I want to come. That thought has begun to push everything else out of my head, demanding to be heard, for him to give me what I need. I whine before I can help myself, a whimpering moan spilling out of my lips as I start to try to buck against his hand. But his legs are holding mine open, holding them in place, and I can barely move. I can’t do anything other than watch, and surrender to the pace he’s set.
Salvatore slides the index finger of his other hand down, circling my entrance as he keeps stroking my clit. “Look at yourself,” he breathes into my ear. “Look at your tight pussy, wanting to be filled. Wanting my finger.” He nudges the tip against me, and I feel myself tighten, as if to pull him inside of me. “That’s a good girl. Take it for me.”
I feel him slide the finger inside of me, my pussy clenching around him, and I moan. I’m so close, all of the sensations heightened by watching as he touches me, by my embarrassment—lust, shame, and confusion all wrapped up together, and I watch as Salvatore starts to finger me. He slides it in and out, and my embarrassment mingles with fascination as I see how wet his finger is, how I clench around him, the reactions of my body as he pushes me closer to my orgasm.
When he adds a second finger, still stroking my clit slowly, I cry out. My hips push forward as much as I can, and I clench my teeth before I can say anything, before I can beg for his cock. I can imagine how it would feel. Thick and hot inside of me, filling me up, thrusting hard, harder, fucking me until I come all over him—the lewd thoughts fill my head like a litany. I gasp, moaning and twisting helplessly, hovering on the very edge of the pleasure I so desperately need.
