Sloane made it her mission to avoid me ever since our wedding night.
I gave her time to adjust to her new role in this life. Her phone was confiscated, and she was forbidden from speaking to anyone except me, Nico, or Maria. Even they were told not to engage with her unless absolutely necessary.
The look Maria gave me would have sent me to Hell if I let it. But this was for her own good.
Some might see it as mean. Torturous, even. To keep a woman away from her family, her support system, and lock her away.
It’s a necessity. Sloane is a fire that wants to burn everyone until we’re all charred ashes and burnt flesh. She wants out of this marriage and will do anything to push her agenda to win.
If I give her an inch, she’ll be gone. I’m not losing her. I can’t, not when I need to know more about her, learn the Sloane under the mask she shows the world.
I’ve seen the sex vixen, I’ve seen the party-girl and the intelligent, logical woman. But I need to know all her parts and keep them. Forever.
Since I’ve reddened those beautiful ass cheeks, she’s been sequestered in my home, given her own bedroom. A guest room that’s doubled as a makeshift prison, she’s rarely left. She’s not confined, but there is a lock should I need to use it.
With Sloane, anything is possible.
I walk into her room, seeing it untouched. She has a few items in boxes by the door as if they’ve just been brought in. I know differently. Those items were delivered the day after our wedding, and she hasn’t bothered to unpack.
She doesn’t intend to stay.
That pounding energy from earlier thrashes inside my chest like a raging storm, the kind my wife spits whenever she’s mad. I want to break something, shackle her to the bed and make her understand she’s not going anywhere.
I’ve never been the possessive kind but God, Sloane has changed my world entirely. I’ll be damned if I let another person walk out on me again. Especially my wife. Especially the one person I want to keep close.
“What do you want?” She sneers, walking in from the attached bathroom.
I’ve seen Sloane dressed up for a night out, and radiant for our wedding. But this Sloane, with her messy red hair pulled into a bun, her thick curves hidden behind a pair of sweats and a white tee, is better than all the rest.
Seeing her normal, comfortable, shifts something in my heart. A feeling, a realization, a hard truth. She looks good like this, like she belongs in this space, in my home and therefore my heart.
It means I’m falling for my wife.
I’m knocked with the thought, a warmth igniting through my veins and suddenly, I’m lightheaded. I’ve never fallen for a woman before, never allowed one to get this close, to bury so far into my heart. Not until Sloane O’Brien.
“What, no kiss for your husband after a long day at work?” My throat is dry, but I focus on the woman in front of me.
She scoffs. “Get bent, Alessio.”
“You’ve got a smart mouth, little menace. Did anyone ever tell you that?” I tuck my hand into my pockets, grasping the ball there.
Her eyes narrow, cheeks flushing slightly at the bite in my tone. My little menace isn’t the sweet and innocent kind. She doesn’t want to be the good girl. She wants someone to treat her like a dirty slut and use her as they please while making her see stars.
Has anyone ever worshipped her the way she demands? Probably not.
Not with those hungry eyes. Even as she glares, crossing her arms over those full breasts, she acts as if she hates me. Maybe she does, a little bit, inside. Maybe she hates this situation, truly, being forced into an arrangement made on her behalf. But she can’t deny the attraction, the chemistry.
I can’t deny that I’m falling in love with her.
“I’ve been told my mouth is my best asset,” she quips, earning a chuckle.
I grip the ball, pulling it from my pants.
“They probably didn’t see your pretty pink pussy. But your mouth is in the top five of your best assets.”
I beckon her closer, curling my gloved fingers her way.
She stays rooted, too far away for me to grab her, eyes wary.
“Now, Sloane. Come here.”
She glares harder. “Pass. Last time you were near me, my ass was sore the next day.”
I take three large steps, crossing the room, crowding her flush to the bedroom wall. Her pulse jumps and I smile at her unease. “And you can’t tell me your cunt wasn’t fucking drenched. Did you play with yourself after I left you?” Her cheeks blaze but she doesn’t cower, like I knew she wouldn’t. “You did. You slipped your fingers inside, fantasizing it was me. Did the dreams do it justice?” My nose brushes hers and her breath hitches. “Probably not. You’re wet right now. You haven’t found release in days, poor girl.”
“Fuck off,” she snipes, trying to slide away.
My hand closes around her throat, halting her.
“I told you not to touch yourself. That you’ll only find release with me when you admit that I’m your husband. That you’ll stay.”
Her face pinches, her lips pressed into a frown. “Bite me, Alessio.”
“You already did that.”
“Then fuck off,” she retorts. “This marriage is a joke. Once I find a way out, I’m taking it.”
I laugh, but I’m not amused. “Get on your fucking knees, little menace,” I growl, pushing her down.
Her face is leveled with my hardened cock, pressing against my pants. She’s defiant but her eyes glaze over, subconsciously licking the seam of her mouth.
Her lips are bright red, painted the same shade they’ve always been.
Gone is the warmth from earlier, only fire raging in my limbs. A passion drowning me to the point where breath is hard to obtain and all logic has fled.
I need her, need her to want me the way I want her too badly to think straight.
“Take me out.”
She wrestles her head away, but my fist locks into her curls, holding her from moving. She’s feeling defiant.
“Now, Sloane. Don’t make me tell you again.”
Her nails curls into my thighs, halting me from bringing her closer. I grab her throat, angling her head back.
“I’ve already had a tough day, menace. Be the good slut I know you are, and unbutton my pants.”
She hesitates briefly, before the zipper is pulled down and my cock springs out, precum dripping from the end.
Sloane is not a wilting flower. Without prompting, her tongue licks the tip, and I have to steady myself against the wall. She’s barely touched me, but I feel like a live wire, ready to explode.
She can’t deny the connection between us, the marriage just shortening the time for it to develop.
“You’re going to open those pretty lips and I’m going to show you how your mouth should really be used.”
She swallows, a challenge lingering in her gaze.
“Make me.” She spits, leaning away, as if she can run.
This woman. She wants to be forced. Made to suck down my cock into that beautiful throat to the point of choking.
I can play this game. She’s had her adjustment time, now I need to finally own her in all ways that matter and remind her she’s mine.
But I don’t want this to be only about me.
Gripping her hair at the back of her skull, I force her face to my pelvis, giving just enough slack that she could move if she wanted.
“Open that fucking mouth, Sloane.”
She tries to fight me, pushing against my hold but I wretch her closer, my cock brushing her nose.
“Now,” I command, tightening my fist.
She gives me a hard glare but her lips part.
It’s not a lot, but I force my cock into her mouth, her red lipstick staining my shaft with one pass. It smears onto her chin, marring that angelic porcelain skin into something dark and devious.
I don’t miss my chance, slamming into the tight, wet heat of her perfect mouth until I feel the back of her mouth. She sputters a heavenly song that I pray I’ll always hear.
Her nails cut into the flesh of my sensitive inner thighs, and I pump twice before my cock pops free, and she coughs, sucking down deep breaths.
“See? Your mouth can be used in such better ways, little menace.” I grab her chin, forcing my cock back between her lips. “Better ways than hissing at me like a wet cat.”
God, it feels so fucking good to be inside of her. The wetness, the warmth, those tiny whimpers as my cock deepens, shoving down her throat.
Wetness pools at the corner of her eyes, drool dripping from her mouth. She’s such a beautiful disaster for me.
My cock twitches and I pop out, letting her breathe. Her chest stutters, full breasts heaving with exertion. If I don’t control myself, I’ll explode before I’ve taught her a lesson.
She’s the only one to break my strong control.
Gripping her hair, I pull her to her feet, her confused, lustful glance making me smile.
I throw her onto the bed, quickly straddling her hips.
“You like being used, don’t you? Used like a fucktoy, being made to take me into that fucking amazing mouth,” I whisper, licking her earlobe. My cock is still free, angry, and throbbing at being denied release. “You want me to use you. Make you do unspeakable things. Blame me for all the unholy desires you feel, at what I’ll make you do.”
I hold the ball gag over her face, watching as her eyes widen in realization.
It’s a thick black leather strap, with a bright red ball held in the center. The same color as her lipstick that marks us now.
“What are you—”
“Your words, are mine, Sloane.” I chastely kiss her cheek. “I own your body. I own your soul. And now I’ll own those ferocious words, that terrible bite because it’s mine. I love your fight, but I want every part of you that I can get. Everything you are, is mine.”
I quickly secure the strap over her mouth. She puts up a valiant fight, arms thrashing out, legs flailing, but once the ball is lodged between those plump lips, she holds still.
“This is just another way to show you that I own you. That I’m not going anywhere, Sloane.” My words are edged in need and want. She looks so good bound for me.
I lift her shirt, seeing she isn’t wearing a bra. I make myself a promise to thank God at the altar tomorrow for this gift.
“Now I’m going to fuck these perfect breasts,” I say, rocking back on to my knees. I discard my jacket, rolling up the sleeves of my shirt. My eyes don’t leave her face, taking in those wide eyes. “And you’ll wear my cum for the rest of the day. I’m going to mark you, Sloane. Physically own you, because I need to keep you.”
She garbles something, her words stuck behind the thick rubber.
I laugh darkly at her attempt to flay me with her words. “See? Isn’t this better?”
It’s not ideal; I love her words. I want to hear her rage against me, see what she can throw at me. I want that burning fire to scorch me and take us both under.
The rage that contorts her face, that could level buildings, brightens the emotions of her doe eyes. They glow like freshly made emeralds, a vine of gold running the edges.
This is a show. A physical leash, a binding between us. I can give her the dark, depraved things she craves. I won’t leave her because of them, but embrace them.
I can be everything for her, everything she needs..
I spit into my hand, mixing her salvia and lipstick to lube my cock, grabbing her breasts, and I pitch forward without abandon.
She’s soft, willing, her body bowing with every thrust. Her hands tangle into my open pants, every thrust causing her to moan against the gag.
I’m not gentle as I fuck her. My body needs this release, and I need to see my cum marking her. I need to tie her to me in some physical form that surpasses the ring on her finger. With me staining her, she’ll never escape me. She’s tainted, by me.
It takes only a few minutes, her tits too soft and giving, that I cum all over her chest, splatters falling on to her chin and neck. A few spots drop into her hair and I smile, seeing me imprinted on her. Like I crave to be.
Panting, I draw back, body leaning over her, arms braced above her head. She’s vibrating with need and fury, denied another orgasm. Another punishment to remind her of who I am. Who she is to me. What I can give her—only me.
“You’re going to wear my cum like a goddamn mark of claiming, Sloane. You’re going to move your shit into our bedroom, and I better find you in my bed when I come home tonight. No shower. No touching yourself.”
She glares, cheeks red but the lust is there. That hellfire that wants to burn me as much as I want it to glows from her eyes, heaven and hell in a fallen angel.
She whimpers something and I smile, my orgasm taking some of my stress away.
Seeing her covered in my release, at my mercy, makes me want to sink into her again, feel her nails dig into my back, her fury flaying me apart as my name leaves her lips.
Not yet.
“I’m sure you’re saying you’re never getting into my bed.” I swirl my finger in the cum, painting her lips around the ball. “But you will.”
The challenge in her eyes almost undoes me right there.
“How badly do you want to come, little menace? Enough to put yourself in my bed, legs wide open, spread for me and my tongue?”
She inhales, and that’s all the confirmation I need.
“Move into our bedroom and I’ll lick every part of this pretty pussy until you can’t tell one orgasm from the next.” I bite her earlobe, feeling her shudder under me. My cock twitches, blood flowing back as if the promise of tasting her can revive it.
Shoving off of her, I grab my suit jacket and zip myself back into my pants.
Immediately she sits up, unclasping the ball gag and sighs, tasting me on her lips.
“Remember, Sloane. My cum stays on those tits and you’re in my bed. Don’t disappoint me.” I pull the gloves higher, lowering my sleeves.
I don’t bother to wait for confirmation. If she’s as needy as she appears, Sloane will listen.
Beyond that, Sloane feels the connection that I do. She likes to pretend she doesn’t want me, she wants to act unaffected, but I’ve seen the flames of desire in those eyes.
Right now, she needs space to process it. But I know, by tonight, I’ll have my wife finally in my bed, and that causes that warmth to stir again, weaving around my heart like a noose.
