Something holds him in thrall, and I think that something is me. There’s a sweet power in knowing my body does this to him, renders him helpless, unable to resist.
The friction is unbearable and sweet, peaking in a climax that makes me squeeze around him. Every muscle clenches and then relaxes into a slow melt—and still he keeps thrusting.
He fucks with reckless intensity, driving into me again and again. It’s a form of domination, the way he pushes over me, inside me. There’s also a sense that he’s searching for something. That the answers are inside me. He nuzzles at my breast, taking the peak between his lips, sucking and gently biting until I come again in a wash of scarlet pleasure.
And still he does not stop.
He needs something from me, his new bride. I’m not sure what, only that I want to try and give it to him. “I, June Li,” I murmur, my lips brushing his temple. “Take thee, Asher Cook, for my lawfully wedded husband.” These were the words I spoke in front of hundreds of people today—businessmen and lawmakers, underworld crime bosses and the mayor of Tanglewood himself. I spoke the words in front of God, but they didn’t ring as true then as they do now—saying them to my husband while he’s inside me, losing himself in my body, finding himself in the words.
He groans, his hands tightening on my hips. “More.”
“To have and to hold,” I say, more breath than sound as his thrusts speed up, his hips ramming into my body with alarming force, his cock impaling me deep. “From this day forward.”
“For better,” he says, his voice hard.
“For worse,” I answer, letting my softness enfold him. “For richer, for poorer.”
“In sickness and in health.” His breathless words are fervent—a promise muttered in the dark.
“As long as we both shall live.”
A feral sound enters the air. It’s Asher, and he bites down on my shoulder. The sharp pain makes me cry out. That’s how he climaxes, every part of his body holding every part of mine.
* * *
