Contracted Ties

SUSAN

The door slammed shut.

Noah didn't kiss me. He just stared — chest heaving, tie already gone, top buttons ripped open sometime between the last dance and the elevator. His eyes dragged down my body like he was undressing me with his teeth.

"You have no idea," he said, voice wrecked, "how many times I almost took you tonight."

My back hit the wall.

His mouth was on my neck, my jaw, my collarbone — hot and open and desperate. His hands gripped my hips and pulled me flush against him, and I felt everything. Every inch of him, hard and straining through his dress pants.

"I've been hard since the ceremony," he muttered against my skin. "Standing at that altar. Watching you walk toward me. Knowing what I was going to do to you tonight."

My fingers fisted in his shirt. "Noah—"

"Shh." His teeth grazed my earlobe. "Let me talk."

He pulled back just enough to look at me. Eyes black. Jaw tight. A muscle ticking in his cheek like he was holding himself back by a thread.

"I'm going to ruin this dress," he said.

"It's just a dress."

"It cost ten thousand dollars."

"Then ruin it faster."

Something snapped behind his eyes.

He spun me around, yanked the zipper down, and the dress hit the floor in a whisper of silk. I stood there in lace and heels, back to him, breath caught in my throat.

His hands found my waist. His lips found my shoulder.

"Turn around."

I did.

He looked at me — really looked — and something shifted in his face. The hunger was still there, but underneath it, something softer. Something that made my chest ache.

"You're my wife," he said, like he was testing the word.

"Your wife," I repeated.

He kissed me. Slow this time. Deep. His hands slid up my back, unhooked my bra with one flick, and let it fall.

"I'm going to take my time with you," he said against my mouth. "Every inch. Every sound. I want to hear all of it."

He walked me backward until my knees hit the bed. I sat. He knelt.

His hands slid up my thighs, pushing them apart. His breath was warm against my skin. His eyes never left mine.

"Tell me you want this."

"You know I do."

"Say it."

"I want this. I want you. I've wanted you since the first time I saw you."

His mouth curved. "Good."

His hands caressed the wetness that had pooled between my thighs — hot and sticky.

When he finally entered me, he thrust so hard I forgot to breathe.

He pounded into me until my mind went numb. All I could remember was Daddy calling me a good girl — but right now, I don't think I could still defend that title.

He grabbed my hips, positioning me upward, my legs raised.

I cried out in pleasure, my fingers digging into his skin as I bit my lip, the sensation quieting down my busy mind.

Then his phone rang.

He ignored it, still thrusting harder. I couldn't see who was calling — blurs and tears filled my eyes.

The phone rang again. This time the sound was louder than my moans.

He aggressively lifted off the phone.

"Who's there?" I asked.

His expression shifted from hunter to prey.

He gnashed his teeth together while his hands loosened on my neck.

He quickly flipped the phone face-down on the nightstand. Forced a smile. "It's nothing. Come here."

But I saw it. Just for a second before he turned it over.

The name on the screen.

Joana.

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To be continued…