Sweet Justice

CHAPTER FIVE

PIPER

"While I'd like to stay abed for the remainder of the night...hell, the remainder of the week, we can't stay here."

It was the first chance I had to look at the room. It was plain, only a bed and a dresser, the walls painted a plain white. The quilt we were sprawled upon was a mixture of dark fabrics—blood red, royal blue and even some dark heather. It was striking and very bold, perhaps matching the personality of its owner.

Now that my anger and ardor had both cooled, reality set in.

"Oh God," I groaned, tossing an arm over my eyes. Perhaps if I couldn't see Wiley, he couldn't see me.

Mr. Easton's—no—Wiley's fingers began to fiddle with a long lock of my hair, tugging on it gently. After he'd pulled himself from my body, he'd fallen to his side and pulled me into him, his arm and leg thrown over me as if trying to keep me from escaping. If he made me feel that amazing not once, but twice, I had no interest in going anywhere.

He was so different from me; the hair on his leg tickled my smooth thigh, his arm was corded with muscle and his hand, just simply cupping my left breast, was large and his fingers long. Our size difference was obvious now, for I felt small and dainty beside him. Remarkably, he had been gentle with me; his hands and mouth and even his cock had been patient and somewhat restrained. That was, at least, until I uttered the word "harder." That single word was a signal to him to unleash whatever control he'd held and then he hadn't been gentle.

His hands had gripped my hips tightly, and his cock had slammed into me as it rubbed and slid over incredible places inside that had my eyes practically rolling to the back of my head. It had gone from sweet to carnal in an instant. The sound of our joining, flesh slapping flesh, filled the room. I couldn't help the little sounds that had escaped my throat and they seemed to only build Wiley's intensity. Fucking—the word he'd used for what we'd done—was wet and dirty and wild...and I loved it. He'd been right to make me trust him, for he certainly knew what he was doing.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?"

I refused to look at him. "What you must think of me!"

He pulled on my arm, lowering it from my face so I could see the very satisfied look on his face. "That you're wild and wanton and very, very sexy?"

"Wanton, definitely. Brazen." My body was relaxed and sated, yet between my thighs, my flesh was hot and tender. Deep inside, I ached, a combination of the end of my virginity and being filled so completely by such a large cock. He was large; if he hadn't been so diligent in his early attentions, I would have been fearful. Well, I had been fearful, but more so. I'd forgotten about the reasoning for our marriage. I'd forgotten about my family and their demise. I'd forgotten everything but Wiley.

"You're mine now and there's no going back."

True. I could feel his seed seeping from me.

"You're not bothered by my...boldness?" I asked, fearful of his answer.

"Your boldness in bed pleases me. Your boldness in charging into a brothel bothers me a great deal." Catching me by surprise, he easily maneuvered me onto my belly.

"Wiley, what—"

Smack.

His hand came down on my bottom, and I heard the loud sound before I felt the sharp sting.

"Wiley!" I cried, whipping my head around to look at him, pushing up onto my hands and knees to get away.

"Good, just the way I want you." He came up on his knees beside me and gripped my hip firmly. "Don't move."

Smack.

"What are you doing?" I squealed as his palm struck a different place on my bottom.

"Spanking you for your blatant disregard for your safety."

Smack.

"You went to see a whore on our wedding night!"

Smack.

"I was working."

"Yes, interrogating someone in just her underthings. It seems your tact is to strip her naked," I countered, thinking of how we'd been forced to wed in the first place. "Good thing you were in a brothel otherwise you might have to marry her as well!"