Page 61 of Vicious Betrayal

I lean down and take one of her nipples into my mouth, sucking hard, and she cries out, her fingers tangling in my hair. I move to the other breast, and she's already trembling, her body responding to me instantly. My cock is touching my abdomen; I'm so fucking hard. I don't know how I'm going to last once I get inside her.

"Please," she whimpers. "Please, I need⁠—"

I slide one hand down between her legs, pushing her thong aside and finding her already wet and ready for me. "Christ, you're soaked."

"I was watching you," she admits breathlessly. "It was so hot, Cormac. I wanted—I wanted to help."

The image of her standing in the doorway, watching me stroke my cock, makes my own arousal spike even higher. I push two fingers inside her, and she moans, her hips rocking forward to take me deeper.

"You like watching me, a chumann?" I murmur against her ear, my thumb finding her clit and circling it slowly. "You like seeing me lose control?"

"Yes," she gasps. "Yes, I love it. I love seeing you like that."

I add a third finger, and she's so wet that they slide in easily. I curl them to hit that spot inside her that makes her see stars, and I can feel that she's already close, her inner walls fluttering around my fingers.

"Come for me," I order, my voice rough. "Come on my fingers, and then I'm going to fuck you."

She shatters with a cry a moment later, her body convulsing, her nails digging into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks. I work her through it, drawing out her pleasure until she's shaking and gasping. Then I pull my fingers out, grip my cock, and line myself up before the flutters can stop, while I can feel her gripping my cock as I push inside.

"Look at me," I murmur, and her eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused. "I want your eyes on mine, wife."

She makes a soft whimpering sound, doing as I ask as she clings to me. My cock throbs, and I groan as I push inside her in one hard thrust.

The high-pitched sound she makes nearly sends me over the edge. She's so tight, so hot, so perfect around me, and I want to give her a moment to adjust, but I can't. I can't stop. I pull out almost all the way, then slam back in, and she cries out, her legs wrapping around my waist, her heels digging into my ass. She makes small, gasping sounds with every thrust, her breasts bouncing, her hair falling into her face. I reach up and tangle my hand in it, pulling her head back so I can kiss her, my tongue invading her mouth as I thrust my cock into her again and again.

She kisses me back desperately, her hands clutching at me, and I can feel her starting to tighten around me again, her second orgasm building. I'm clinging to my own control by a thread, but now more than ever, I want her to come on me as I fill her up.

"That's it," I growl against her mouth. "Come on my cock, wife. Let me feel you."

Her head falls back, and she cries out, the moan sounding something like my name, and the feeling of her clenching around me is enough to send me over the edge. I bury myself as deep as I can go and come with a ragged moan, my hips jerking as I empty myself inside her.

I rock into her as the last spurts spill from my cock, imagining myself pushing my cum into her, my cock twitching at the thought. She holds onto me, gasping, her fingers tangled up in my shirt as we slowly catch our breath, and then I slide out of her.

I grab a towel and clean us both up, then lift her off the counter and carry her back to the bed. She curls into my chest, her breathing already evening out, and I pull the covers over us both. "That wasn't quite how I imagined our wedding night," I say with a small chuckle, pulling her closer to me.

She laughs softly, but it sounds strained. "No?"

"I thought I'd have you in this bed. Slow and romantic. Not fumbling at each other on the bathroom counter after my wife caught me jerking off at three in the morning."

"I liked it," she murmurs. "I liked watching you. And I liked what came after."

I press a kiss to the top of her head. "Good." I don't need a perfect wedding night. If she's happy, then I am too. We've got a whole lifetime to fuck in a bed any way we want, and maybe this will be a memorable story we laugh about on anniversaries for years to come.

But even as I say it, I can't shake the feeling that something's off. She's here in my arms, but there's a tension in her body that wasn't there before. I can't put my finger on it, but something doesn't quite feel right. It's not just how our wedding night went. It's something else, but it's nothing tangible.

Maybe it's just the pregnancy. Maybe she's tired and overwhelmed, or adjusting to the reality of being married. Maybe I'm reading too much into it.

I tell myself that's what it is. I tell myself everything is fine.

But the nagging feeling doesn't go away.

—

The flight to Greece for our honeymoon the next day is long, but comfortable. I booked us first-class seats, and Oksana sleeps for most of the journey, her head resting on my shoulder, her hand curled around my arm. I watch her sleep and try to ignore the unease that's been sitting in my chest since last night.

She seems better now, more relaxed. When she wakes up, she smiles at me, and it looks genuine. Maybe I was just overthinking things.

We land in the late afternoon, and from there, we take a helicopter to the island. I'd wanted somewhere private, and Declan had recommended this place—a luxury resort on a small island with private villas scattered along the cliffs overlooking the Aegean.