Crowned by Hate (Crowned 1)

Looking to Bryant out of the corner of my eye, I want to ask him what we’re doing. What his plan is and why he had to marry me. Aside from being the president’s daughter, and having history with his brother, I don’t see why he would (truly) benefit from having me as his wife.

Pulling into the underground parking lot, we get out of the limo and I clutch my dress in my hand. This isn’t as I imagined I spend the night of my wedding, not that I thought about it much, but still, I watch movies, and this isn’t usually how it plays out, but then again, nothing ever is.

Going back into the penthouse, I toss my phone onto the counter and head straight for the fridge. Taking out the only champagne bottle I see in there, I rip the cork off and bring it to my lips. I hear Bryant snicker behind me. “You know I have glasses, right?”

Swallowing the bubbles, I turn to face him while letting my hair down. “You know it’s our wedding night, right?”

His mouth snaps closed as his eyes darkened. “Don’t ask for something you ain’t ready for, Isa.”

“Mmmm.” I inch my finger up. “And who says that I’m not ready? Sex, yes, Marriage, no.”

Bryant comes closer, so I step backward until I’m colliding with the fridge doors. Once he’s close, he brings both fists up to my head and cages me in. He tilts his head, running his tongue over his teeth before his lip curls up. “Take off your dress,” he growls, so deep that it awakens that same dark little girl who shamelessly begs for Bryant every day. Every night. Every time he flashes those annoying fucking eyes toward me, she stirs deep inside me begging to be fucked—hard. Instantly, my fingers find the back of my dress until I’m slowly zipping it down. Bryant’s head drops down as he watches my flesh slowly be revealed to him. He steps backward, reaching for the bottle of champagne from my other hand, and then bringing it to his mouth. He takes a long pull of it, but his eyes remain on mine. Just as the tight silk drops off my skin and the fresh air pinches my nipples, a growl comes from his chest.

Yikes! The no bra idea was obviously a great idea. Leaning against the fridge, I smile at him, hooking my G-string and tugging it off. Swinging it around with my index finger, I reach out to Bryant, a slight smile on my mouth. “Is this what you want?” I close my eyes, my hips beginning to roll at the thought of Bryant right there, watching me. I don’t know why, but he sets my everything on fire. The erotic feeling engulfs me, and I get lost in it.

When he doesn’t answer, I carry on. “Is it?” My eyes are closed as my fingers involuntarily find my clit. “To see, smell, taste what you do to me?”

A hand clenches around my throat, and my eyes snap open, straight onto Bryant’s. He takes my panties with his other hand and brings them to his nose, inhaling deeply. “Mine.”

I look into his eyes, seeing his Dominant come out. “Yours.”

He drops to his knees, and just like that, his mouth covers my clit and holy shit. I’m seeing stars. His tongue gliding over and between my folds as it hits my most sensitive of parts. Teasing, pleasuring, toying with every single aspect of myself. He knew exactly what to do and where to go as if he drew the damn map for my body. My breathing comes faster, as a groan erupts from my mouth. He stops. All pleasure I was just receiving stopping with his, and he gets to his feet. Stepping closer to me, he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth until every inch of my sweet tasting self owns my taste buds.

Wrapping his hands around the backs of my thighs, he picks me up and throws me down onto the kitchen bench, ripping his shirt off and then his pants. I inch up onto my elbows and watch as he massages his thick long cock with his hand as his eyes look over every inch of my exposed skin.

“You going to fuck me on the kitchen bench on our wedding night?”

He grins, getting up and crawling up my body. “Fucking right I am.”

Beep

Beep

Beep

What’s that sound?

I gasp loudly, my back arching off the bed as I get sucked out of my deep sleep, or memory, I’ve yet to figure out what is what. The dark night envelopes me in Bryant’s—and I guess my—master bedroom, where he sleeps beside me.

I shiver, the cool wind of the night whisking through the open window and I throw my blanket off, walking around to close it. My silk robe now clings to my sweaty flesh as I push down on the window, closing out the busy night down below.