Page 71 of The Viper's Wife

I look away, wrapping his coat tightly around me.

“What’s the Family going to say?” I ask.

“They’ll say, ‘Thank god Nico took pity on that stripper and still decided to marry her instead of throwing her out on the street.’”

I flash a furious glare in his direction. “I didn’t ask for your pity. And I want you to throw me out on the street. We had a deal, and you’re not holding up your end.”

One long step, and he’s in front of me. With my heels, he’s not looming over me for once, but I’m still tightly aware of his strength and speed. And his willingness to use it against me.

“That’s right, darling,” he says, sneering. “We did have a deal, didn’t we? You were going to play as my wife, and I would make sure your family didn’t fucking die, but I guess you don’t really care about Mommy and Daddy, because youthought flashing your pussy to a room full of strangers was more important.”

Raw, hot anger and shame surge in my throat. I step back, and he steps with me until my back bumps against the wall. I need space, and he’s not giving it to me.

“What’s the problem, Val?” His breath is hot against my neck. “Got an exhibitionism kink you need straightened out? You know, you could’ve just asked. I’m sure there are plenty of men who’d love to watch as I fucked your brains out.”

I shove against his naked chest. “Sounds like you’re the one with the kink. You want to screw me in public, then do it. It’s not like I get a choice—I’m just your fuck doll anyway, aren’t I?”

Heaving breaths saw in and out of his mouth, his gaze flicking between my lips and eyes. His lips are smudged with black lipstick. His muscles fill my palms.

My lungs swell to the point of exploding. I hate the way he affects me.

I dig into his chest with my nails and whisper slowly, “Ihateyou.”

I don’t know who acts first.

The tension snaps—and we’re on each other. His hands seize my waist with a bruising touch, and I drive my nails into his chest like I’m trying to shred into his heart.

He crushes me against the wall, his tongue parting my lips and plunging into my mouth.

Fuckme.

Why does he have to taste so good?

Why does his body against mine have to feel so right?

I hook my leg up over his hip and grind against his cock—so fucking thick for me.

He breaks off my mouth, and I gasp for air as he drops his face to my neck and sucks at the sensitive skin there.

He’s going to leave a hickey.

I wish he would. He can see how he makes everything worse.

“Nico, did you hear me?” I moan. “I fucking hate you.”

He answers by grinding his cock harder against my clit. He rises from my neck and stares at me.

He’s feral—eyes blown, mouth glistening, and chest heaving. “Oh, yeah?”

He shoves a hand between my legs and yanks aside my panties to glide against the wetness at my entrance. “Then tell me what the fuck this is?”

He holds two wet fingers aloft. I twist my face away, but he catches my jaw and squeezes my cheeks until my mouth pops open. I barely have time to process what’s going on before he shoves his fingers into my mouth, sliding against my tongue.

“Suck,” he demands, his eyes bright with something that looks like fascination. “And then tell me you hate me.”

I suck, moaning at the taste of myself, at the feel of his fingers slicking against my tongue.

He pulls his fingers from my mouth with apop.