deep groan spills from his lips and I use it as an incentive to quicken what I’m doing. A weird sense of empowerment mixed with arousal hits me. My thighs clench and my heart thunders so loud, it nearly bursts my chest open.
I’m the one who’s giving him pleasure now, the reason he’s releasing the appreciative noises and thickening in my mouth. Right in this moment, I’m the only one who can grant him release.
Adrian sinks his strong, lean fingers into my hair, then tugs me back by it. I don’t release the tip of his cock or loosen my hands as I stare up at him.
His height is blocking the dim light coming through the entrance of the alleyway and he looks like a general, a warrior.
Or maybe he’s just still the devil.
Because despite the lust shining in his ash eyes, his features are as hard as granite, glinting with the promise of pain.
“Remove your hands, Lia.”
I drop them to my lap, eager to let him take control. I might love having these reactions from him, but I think my real pleasure has always been when Adrian owns me wholly.
Body.
Heart.
And soul.
“I know you’ve been texting him,” he says with a feigned calm that chills me to the bones. “Did you think I wouldn’t know just because you deleted the texts?”
I shake my head and start to inch away so I can speak, so I can explain, but Adrian thrusts his cock to the back of my throat. My gag reflex kicks in and I slap both palms on his thighs.
My nails dig into his pants, but that doesn’t deter him as he pulls back the slightest bit before slamming back inside and holding it there. He chokes me, confiscating my air and leaving me hanging by a thread.
“I only let it slide to see how far you’d go, Lia. How fucking much you’d betray me.”
I want to deny it, to tell him that I thought I was an imposter, that I was jealous of my own self because I didn’t have him. Because I believed he loved another woman and not me.
However, Adrian doesn’t allow me any room to breathe, let alone talk.
My lungs burn from the lack of oxygen and tears cling to my lids at the way he keeps holding his dick at the back of my throat.
“Did you let him fuck your mouth, too? My mouth?”
I attempt to shake my head, but I’m too dizzy and without air.
I think I’ll faint.
That I will blackout from being choked by his cock.
However, he finally pulls his length out, and I sputter for air, coughing, my lungs aching from exertion.
“A-Adrian, I—” Before I can take a full gulp of air, he’s pounding in again with a merciless rotation of his hips, pushing all the way in.
Even with him fucking my throat, he’s still not completely inside my mouth. He’s too big for that and his cock is too thick.
His other hand grips my jaw with two fingers and tilts my chin up. “Did you look up at him with these fucking tears in your eyes?”
I shake my head, but the gesture is barely-there as Adrian powers in and out of my mouth with a mad rhythm that’s out of control. I’m lightheaded, unable to breathe, and my hold on his thigh is more for balance than anything else now. I feel like if I let him go, I’ll fall.
Or maybe worse.
My husband uses my mouth like it’s his own vessel of punishment. He drives in, keeping his cock at the base of my throat, then pulls out, allowing me a sliver of air before he rams back inside.
I don’t attempt to stop him as he uses me, punishes me, and takes out his anger on me.
If anything, my thighs tighten every time he confiscates my air. Every time he thrusts in with unapologetic force, manhandling me, taking what he wants from me.
Drool drips down my chin and tears streak my cheeks, but I still keep my mouth open whenever he pulls out. I still want him inside, even if my jaw aches.
However, punishing me doesn’t seem to take the edge away from his savage features. Instead, it seems to deepen, heighten, sharpen them.
“I spend two months, two fucking months, entertaining your belief that you’re Winter, and just when I think I have you back, just when I start to believe you’ll be different, you fuck up everything.”
A sob tears from my throat, but it’s lost in the sound of