Chapter 125

Alex’s eyes fixed on me like a predator’s when we returned to the Ritz. Our honeymoon suite was larger than the rooms in Alex’s house—and those were enormous. Candles and rose petals adorned the bed; a bottle of wine sat on the table, a classic honeymoon scene. My heart pounded.

Thad had decreed no sex given our unconventional wedding, and though I was still angry with him, Alex’s kiss erased every other thought. Only he remained, and the desire for more. So I didn't resist when he pinned me against the wall the moment we entered, his lips finding mine again.

He’d never kissed anyone before; I was his first. I groaned when he pulled away, a chuckle escaping his lips. "Wife."

"Husband." The word felt strange, unfamiliar, yet sent a thrill through me.

"Did I mention how breathtaking you look in your dress?" He kissed my cheek, then my jaw.

"How…how did you find the scrapbook?" I asked breathlessly, struggling to meet his gaze.

"In your wardrobe the day I sent someone to collect your lingerie," he said, his eyes darkening. "You have a nice collection, by the way."

Heat flushed my cheeks. "Did you pick out the one I'm wearing?" I'd found it with the dress.

"No, Lana did," he replied. "I couldn't spoil the surprise, could I?"

I blushed at the thought of Lana selecting lingerie for me, knowing what would happen that night.

"Are you going to let me touch you, Mia?" he murmured, kissing my earlobe. I inhaled a shaky breath.

One last time, I promised myself, arousal intensifying.

"Are you going to come for me like a good wife?" he mumbled, and I was lost. His hands swiftly unfastened my wedding dress.

"Careful," I managed to whisper as his lips trailed down my neck.

"You should be grateful I'm not ripping it in half. I'm not a patient man when it comes to what's mine, Mia," he said, and his lips were on mine again, kissing me fiercely.

The dress pooled around my ankles. When Alex pulled away to look at me, his gaze darkened. Redness spread across my neck and cheeks. He held my waist, pulling me up against the wall, my thighs wrapping around him.

"You're a fucking witch," he mumbled, his hand unclasping my bra. "My witch." He kissed my collarbone and shoulder. "My temptress." My hand tangled in his hair as I used his shoulder for support. "My wife."

I was lost. Each time he called me his wife, my desire intensified. When his erection pressed against me—I hadn't even noticed he'd removed his own clothes while kissing me—I felt myself nearing climax. One touch, one thrust, even just the tip, and I would be overwhelmed. His shaft rubbed against my opening, despite my underwear, while his mouth tormented my nipples.

"Oh, Alex!" I cried out when he sucked on my nipple, all else forgotten. His engagement to Hannah? Forgotten. His threat against Jenny's life to marry me? Forgotten. My supposed hatred for him? Forgotten. All that mattered was the man devouring me. My husband.

I moaned his name, further exciting him. His erection hardened against my entrance before he f*cked me there against the wall. We never made it to the bed, not the first time. As I'd predicted, I was lost the moment he entered me, lasting ten strokes before I cried out his name and came all over his cock. He came inside me soon after, and I knew the feeling was mutual. He was as desperate for me as I was for him.

He carried me to the bed where he f*cked me, looking at me, ensuring I knew with every thrust that I was his wife, and would be until our last breath. And just when I was exhausted from my second orgasm…

Chapter 125 (Continued)

He wanted to claim my ass as well, and I had to beg him to stop. He did, preparing a warm bath, carrying me and placing me in the tub on top of him. He brought wine, but I was too exhausted after three shattering orgasms, so I fell asleep in his lap in the water. I woke to his thumb flicking my nipples, his hard cock beneath me. So he fcked me for a fourth time in the shower, and when he was still unsatisfied, I demanded compensation if he wanted to fck me again. So he let me ride him for the first time, relinquishing his beloved control.

Every time I thought he was finished, he wasn't. He wanted more, which wasn't a problem because I wanted it just as much. I wanted every part of him, and I wanted to give him every part of me.

I slept cradled in his arms that night, naked and satiated, every thought, anger, and hatred forgotten, every pending argument left for another day. I had everything that mattered to me beside me, and I hated that despite his cruelty and the torturous things he’d done, my heart still beat only for him. The man I loved. Now, my husband.