Violent Triumphs (White Monarch 3)

She could barely turn her head in my grip. I’d never put my hands around a woman’s throat this way. I wanted to scare her. I wanted her fear and her orgasm. Her ever-mesmerizing violet eyes found mine, and in them, I found clarity. Determination. Devotion. “I’m your wife,” she said levelly. “I’m yours. And you’re mine, husband.”

My ears rang with my impending eruption. I was holding her too hard, rutting into her, trying not to bruise her delicate neck as her cervix took a beating. I only loosened my grasp when I heard the word stop. I forced myself to slow down long enough to make out what she was saying.

“Don’t stop,” she cried. “God, Cristiano. Please don’t stop.”

I fucked her to quiet her. She was a screamer up until the final moments, but her orgasms silenced her. When she went mute, she was close. She opened her mouth and gasped for air, dropped her head back against my shoulder, and submitted to her climax.

The moment her pussy gripped me, I was a goner. I released her neck and hugged her close as she milked me until I erupted.

As she went flimsy in my arms, I eased her onto her stomach, propped myself over her, and pumped slowly, keeping my promise. I spurted every last drop into her, and when I was done, I stayed buried inside her, plugging her up.

“We never talked about this,” she said quietly.

“What are you referring to?” I asked, even though I knew.

“What do you think?” she asked with that bit of sass I loved. “You know I’m not on birth control.”

I withdrew and sat on the backs of her thighs, prying apart her sweet pink pussy lips. “You just look so fucking good filled to the brim,” I said. “You should see how my cum looks inside you.”

“You know what happens when you do that, though, don’t you?”

I couldn’t help my laugh. “I’ve heard.”

I moved off her to lie by her side, brushing her hair off her face. “At your age, you’re extremely fertile.”

“Are you fertile at all at your age, old man?” she asked, batting her lashes at me.

I balked. “Thirty-four? Sorry to break it to you, but I’m in my prime. We could already be pregnant.”

“You say that so easily, like you’re letting me know you’re going out for conchas and coffee.” She took her gaze from me, looking at nothing on the bed between us. “We just started doing this, Cristiano. Is it a good idea—”

“I love how you say my name,” I told her, suddenly unable to think of anything else but kissing her. “Come here.”

“I can’t move an inch. After horseback riding, plus training to fight off predators during the day and giving into one at night, I’m so sore.”

I’d worked her every muscle the past week. I wanted her strong and satisfied at the end of each day. “We’ll stop the training,” I said, massaging her shoulders with one hand. “If by some crazy chance you were pregnant—”

“I don’t want to stop,” she said, closing her eyes with a contented sigh. “I like it. I’d rather be prepared than pregnant.”

We should’ve had this conversation already. I’d just barely stopped to think about it. I wanted to be inside her all the time. To come as deep as I could. To see my child growing in her belly. “Do you not want a baby?”

She opened her eyes to study my face and grimaced as she got up on one elbow. “Not yet. This has all been so . . .”

“So what?” I asked quietly when she didn’t continue. “You can be honest.”

“So fast. I’m grateful for it, but sometimes I still feel shame.” My stomach clenched before she added, “Ashamed at how happy I am. I spent so long viewing cartel life as evil. You’re supposed to be the devil. I feel like I’m living someone else’s life.”

Alarmed, I also got up on my elbow. “What does that mean?”

“Just that everything flipped so quickly. And at the same time, it didn’t. I’ve always felt something strong between us. At first, I thought it was just sexual chemistry. And hatred. A twisted kind, where I also couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Her eyes darted between mine before she rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling. “I’d wonder if I was betraying my former self, but after Diego’s manipulation I don’t even know who I am. So what if none of this is real?”

It pained me to hear her question herself. Was this what had been running through Natalia’s mind since that day with the Valverdes? She’d just assured her father that Diego had fooled all of us, and it didn’t diminish Costa’s judgment of character.

“I would rid that shame for you if I could.” Her hair splayed over the pillow, and I picked up a handful of silky strands to run them through my fingers. “But you will overcome it in time. His betrayal is still raw. In the meantime, I ask that when you can’t trust yourself, trust me to know who you are. And you’re right where you’re meant to be.”