Free Bartered Desire: The Billionaire's Wife, Part 4 (A BDSM Erotic Romance) by Ava Lore

Bartered Desire: The Billionaire's Wife
     
    by
    Ava Lore
     
    Part IV
     
    I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Anton's hands were all over me, and the corset cinched around my waist made it impossible to draw air. I saw stars as he half-removed, half-ripped the wedding dress from my body, revealing my bared breasts and soaked panties. His hot mouth descended on my throat, his teeth sharp at my jugular. For a wild, oxygen-deprived moment, I wondered if I'd married a secret vampire, and he was now going to devour my virgin flesh. Except I wasn't a virgin. Well, except for my ass, and judging by the way his hands were massaging it he was quite interested in ensuring that I didn't remain virginal there for very long.
    The thought landed in my brain like a meteor, sending shock waves through me as he scraped his teeth against my collarbone and then retreated until he was kneeling on the floor of the limo beside where I reclined on the seat. Reaching out, he gripped my chin in his hand, gently, but with hidden steel behind it. Heated green eyes stared into mine.
    “I'm going to fuck you now,” he said. “And you are going to scream.”
    I licked my lips and nodded. There was really nothing for me to say. He already knew how to make me scream, and I wanted his cock snug inside my pussy so badly that I would have done anything for it.
    “Turn over.”
    Swallowing hard, I did so. Rough hands gripped my hips and slid me over the soft leather of the seat until I was kneeling next to him, bent over the cushions. The dress I'd worn, much worse for the wear, hung around my waist. I still wore my stockings and panties. The little bullet-shaped vibrator he'd used to drive me to orgasm during our wedding ceremony still snuggled against my clit, and the mile-high satin stilettos remained on my feet. I wanted to reach back and remove them, but I didn't dare move without his permission. I didn't want to give him any excuse not to fuck me.
    He ran a hand over my ass, as though judging a fine horse or a dog. It made me feel reduced, but also deliciously vulnerable. Anton Waters was going to fuck me, and there was nothing I could do about it except, perhaps, say no. And maybe not even then. The abdication of responsibility was almost freeing.
    Fingers moved my soaking panties aside, and the little vibrator fell to the floor of the limo with a thump. I found myself sad that it was gone. It had been good to me. Then Anton placed a thumb at the slick entrance of my pussy and my whole body quivered with anticipation.
    “You are so ready,” he whispered. “I'm glad.” Then he placed his other thumb on the other side of my cunt and began to part my slick lips, exposing my tight, aching channel to his gaze. I swallowed and let my forehead fall to the seat, struggling to stay still as the limo picked up speed beneath me.
    His thumbs dipped farther inside, spreading me insistently, leaving a gaping emptiness inside me that I needed to fill. Slowly he ran his thumbs over my inner walls, giving me pressure, but not fulfillment.
    I bit my lip and tasted blood.
    Then his thumbs slid up and began to coat the tight entrance of my ass with the juices of my pussy.
    I wanted to cry. Just fuck me, fuck me in the cunt! I wanted to scream, but I forced myself to be silent. If he knew how much I wanted it, he wouldn't. I knew that as surely as I knew my own name.
    As though reading my mind, Anton chuckled. “Don't worry, dear,” he said, his words a mockery of our relationship, “I will not leave this sweet little cunt wanting any longer.”
    I heard him moving behind me. A drawer opened and shut. Champagne? Now? God, if he didn't mount me in the next five seconds it would be hard for me not to turn the tables on him again, the way I'd tackled him and sucked his cock dry in the dressing room back in New York...
    Then the memory of his face afterward—full of fear and loss, devastated and abandoned—rose up and ruthlessly quelled the impulse.
    No. No, I