The Filthy One

“Tell me what?”

“Go back to your room, Dolcezza.” He sips his coffee like everything is just fine and all I need to do is follow his orders. Yeah, I don’t think so.

“Tell me what, Marco?” I’m closer to him now. Practically in his face as Enzo leaves the kitchen after dropping a bomb.

“You don’t need to concern yourself with my business.” Face to face, our jaws clenched and our eyes narrowed, it’s clear neither one of us is going to back down. This just escalated from the silent treatment to a full-blown argument.

“Enzo said I need to know something so just fucking tell me.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Fuck you. You watch your fucking mouth. If this has to do with me, then you need to act like a fucking adult and communicate.” In two seconds flat, I’m turned around with my chest and face slamming into the kitchen counter and my legs spread wide enough to accommodate his size.

I feel his breath before I hear his words at my ear.

“When I tell you to watch your mouth. You watch your fucking mouth.” Grabbing at the waist of my yoga pants, he pulls them down along with my underwear and traps my ankles with them.

“Fuck you.”

“When I tell you to walk away, you walk. The fuck. Away.” The sound of his belt sliding from the loops of his jeans has me both panting with need and gasping in shock.

He wouldn’t.

With one hand keeping me down on the counter, he gives himself enough room to…

Slap.

I’m too stunned to respond, the stinging burn on my ass cheek silencing me immediately.

“How many fucking times have I told you to watch your filthy mouth?”

Slap. Slap.

My hands are grasping at nothingness as I try to hold myself still while my fucking husband literally spanks my ass.

I want to be disgusted—and on some level I think I may be—but the truth of the matter is that every time his leather belt connects with my skin, I feel my body leaning closer to him. Almost begging for more. My only hope is that he doesn’t reach out and touch my pussy.

“Fucking Christ, look at you. You’re wet for me. Your cunt is begging for my cock, isn’t it?”

I shake my head, denying his accusation, but my body is betraying my mind and actions.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, River. I don’t do well with lies and omissions.”

Slap. Slap.

Fuck, it hurts. And feels so fucking good.

“Were you counting down the days before you could return to Nathaniel Reed? Were you two planning our divorce so you could run back to him?”

Slap. Slap.

He’s making no sense, but my mind is a bit muddled at this point.

“If you only fucking knew—” he cuts himself off as he buries two fingers inside my pussy. We both groan at the feel, my body aching for more.

“Knew what, Marco?”

Without giving me an answer, he expertly replaces his fingers with his rock-hard cock, deep and all-consuming, all the way to the hilt.