In and out, he moved within her with ease, her release making it so easy for him.
As he pulled out, he saw her cum coating his cock, and he rammed back inside, needing to get as deep inside her as possible.
When that wasn’t possible, he grabbed her legs, forcing them around his waist, as he took possession of her lips, fucking her harder, driving her into the bed as he took over, needing his own release.
It didn’t take him long to find the pace that sent him hurtling to orgasm, to find the tightness in his balls, the tingling in his spine, and then the pleasure as he finally released all of his cum into her waiting body.
Sweat covered their bodies, but he wasn’t completely done, not yet.
Usually, he pulled out of women, dealt with the condom, and left. This time, he wanted to see.
He sat up, lifted her legs, keeping them open for him, and as he pulled out, he watched as his cum followed.
It looked so fucking pretty, and it also cemented in his mind that Abriana, mafia bitch or not, wasn’t going anywhere. She belonged to him.
Chapter Eight
The house was empty the following morning when Abriana woke up. She lay in bed, listening for any sign of Ugly Beast, but there wasn’t one. The bed was empty, and her body ached in all different places. She felt the wetness between her legs, and she was in no doubt of what happened last night.
He had fucked her twice more, only this time hadn’t been horrible like on her wedding night. This reminded her of what that dead ex-mistress had told her. Even as she lay perfectly still, trying to be the nice, proper wife like her mother had told her, she’d been at war with herself. She didn’t want to just lie still while he did all the work.
She wanted to touch him, to explore his body the way he had hers. Biting her lip, she slowly let her hand touch her body starting at her tits. They felt so tender. Circling each nipple, she closed her eyes at the memory of his lips on her. Even as he bit down, he hadn’t hurt her. The kind of pain he’d given her had been so … wondrous. She hadn’t wanted him to stop. Slowly, she slid her hand down her stomach. Ugly Beast had pressed a kiss to her, and then she moved between her legs. With just the one touch, she still felt full from what they had done last night.
Grazing her clit, she let out a gasp at the sudden hit of pleasure and quickly removed her hand. She shouldn’t be touching herself.
Climbing out of the bed, she quickly gathered the sheets. Raven had taught her how to use the washing machine yesterday. She pushed everything into the laundry basket before going to the bathroom.
She took a quick shower before returning to her room. Her pristine, unslept-in bed seemed to mock her as she stepped inside.
Ignoring it and trying to ward off the memory of Ugly Beast being inside her, she went to her closet. Finding a pair of jeans and a shirt, she pulled them on. Even as she tried to ignore what had happened last night, her body had other ideas.
She couldn’t just forget as her body felt amazing and sore, and much to her shame, she wanted to do it again.
“Men have certain needs. They are going to want to use you to deal with those needs. Don’t worry. Once you have a couple of kids, your husband will find another woman to fill the role. One he wants. All you’ve got to do is lie there, let him do his thing. If it hurts, ignore the pain. It’s what we do.”
Abriana paused at her mother’s words. They were the complete opposite of the other woman’s, and they had terrified her.
She thought about Ugly Beast and the women he had on his lap in the clubhouse. She rubbed at her chest, not liking the sting that flooded her body.
What she needed to remember was, Ugly Beast didn’t belong to her. He would never be hers.
Nibbling her lip, she caught sight of her reflection. She didn’t look composed or ready. She looked like she had been up to no good in bed.
Turning away from the mirror, she ran a brush through her hair, and then made her way downstairs. The house was once again empty, and she hated it. She wasn’t used to being alone so much.
She stepped into the kitchen and walked toward the coffee machine. Breakfast at her family home was always served in the dining room. Her father had put her on a strict diet, and he wouldn’t let her eat anything unless he was there to see.
She turned the coffee machine on, looking into the fridge. She’d never cooked a single meal in her life.