Violent Triumphs (White Monarch 3)

“Will I what?”

“Do as you’ve promised. Destroy what’s yours to destroy. Take my virginity as it should’ve been done. Please, fuck me. Please.”

His hands fisted, tightening my sweater around me. “What a way to ask,” he said, his chest rumbling with promise. “You’ve made it worth the wait. And I’ll answer in spades, mamacita.” He tore off my sweater and shoved a hand down the front of my pants, bypassing the fly, then my underwear. His fingertips slipped and glided against my opening but didn’t enter. “Have you been wet this whole time?”

“Since the start,” I admitted hoarsely.

His free hand gripped the waistband of my jeans and tugged them higher and higher until the seam of the crotch wedged up against my clit. “How’s that?”

Open-mouthed, I gasped as he massaged it back and forth. “Oh. God.”

He cocked his head, assessing me with complete composure as his chest rumbled with a “Hmm.”

“What?” I panted.

“I’m deciding what to do with you. Based on how you just came at me, claws out, I think what you need more than anything right now is a good, hard fuck.”

The prospect of inviting that from someone like Cristiano both thrilled and scared me—just like everything else when it came to my husband. The last few weeks had been building up to this, a passionate dance, each step becoming easier as we’d each given into faith. I trusted him to hurt me in the ways I needed without going too far.

“I deserve to be punished for how I’ve treated you. How I’ve spoken to you,” I breathed against him. “Make me repent.”

He yanked down my pants and underwear and left them in a heap as he lifted me against the wall. My legs wrapped around him instinctively, like a snake with prey, out of my control, squeezing him closer.

“I’ll punish you, Natalia Lourdes, and you’ll beg for more,” he said, holding me up with one hand and reaching into his pants with the other to stroke himself. “Later, I’m going to ask you to put my cock inside you. I’m going to run my tongue along and inside every part of your body I can reach. But right now, I’m going to shove it inside you, and you’re going to let me like the good little doll you are. Understand?”

If I hadn’t been pinned to the wall, I might’ve fallen over with need. Instead, I shoved at his chest, moving him only centimeters. “You don’t want a doll. You want the girl who pulled a gun on you. The one you’re teaching to fight back.”

He trapped my wrists and held them over my head. After locking them there with one hand, he pulled himself out of his sweats, lined his head up with my opening, and started to press inside. “Then it’s too bad I haven’t taught you how to get out of this hold yet, isn’t it?” he asked and thrust his hips forward.

He filled me all at once. “Fuck,” I cried.

“Yeah, fuck,” he said, rooting himself there. “Fuck you and your too-tight cunt. How’s it feel to finally be broken wide open?”

My chest heaved. He quenched a thirst that ran deeper than I’d thought possible. I was full, finally, for the first time in my life, physically—but also emotionally bursting with desire and love and everything else I couldn’t seem to get a handle on. “It feels . . .” Even the finest words couldn’t convey like the language our bodies spoke. “It feels like we should’ve done this weeks ago.”

“No shit. All I’ve wanted is to watch your face as I claim you.” He used both hands this time to fasten my wrists above my head before he drew back and impaled me again. “As your pussy yields for me, then sucks me deeper.”

“Ay, Dios m—” I cried. “Oh . . . my . . . G—”

“Who are you talking to, mi vida?” He took my mouth for a hard, wet kiss as he moved in and out, making sure I felt every ridge and vein of his shaft. Trapping my bottom lip between his teeth, he pinched it until I moaned, then released it. “Nobody’s as divine as you,” he professed. “You’re the goddess in the sky the rest of us appeal to. Who could match you?”

“You.”

His tongue ran along my lip to the corner of my mouth as his hips picked up pace. “Does it hurt?”

It was a simple question with myriad answers. Was pain always bad? Could it feel so good that it hurt? Was I allowed to crave physical agony to incarnate my soul-deep yearning for him? “Yes,” I said as my pussy contracted around him and my legs pulled him even closer.

He pulled out until I had to engage my thigh muscles to keep from slipping down the wall. “I could be gentler,” he said. “Treat you like a real doll. Like you can’t handle it.”