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And it was him.
He looked like the devil, and he tasted like sin so perhaps it was fitting.
A physical trauma hurts the flesh, but words, they hurt the soul.
At this point, I was willing to get on my knees.
And just for good measure, I remove his limp dick and shove it into his throat.
“You fucking can, and you fucking will. You’ll give me another like the good girl I know you are.”
“As much as I prefer my hand as your necklace, Amelia, I knew it couldn’t be there forever so this was the next best accessory for the woman who held my whole heart.”
“With you, too much is not enough.”
Reaching forward, I hook my hand behind her knee and lift, resting the toe of her stiletto against the edge of my chair. My hands smooth up her calf.
“That’s my girl.”
“My pretty wife,” he growls. “You won’t be joking later when I have you screaming on my cock.”
“I love you.” Something rumbles inside his chest as his arms tighten, “And you own my heart, amore mia, I am in love with you.”
I’m never too busy for you, Amelia.
“Get your ass into my office. Take off your dress and wait in my chair.”
“Now tell me,” I whisper, “Would you like to be my whore tonight, or my wife?”
