Home > The Unwanted Wife (Unwanted #1)(17)

The Unwanted Wife (Unwanted #1)(17)
Author: Natasha Anders

“I want you,” he whispered, his breath feathering against the skin of her neck, where he was nibbling gently. “How I want you!” She sobbed wishing she was more adept at resisting him but desperately wanting him too, despite her bitterness, her anger and her frustration. She nodded slowly, tears seeping from between her closed eyes and trickling down her cheeks.

“Please…” she didn’t know if she was begging him to stop or to continue but Sandro took it as an assent. One of his hands dropped from her breasts and tugged at her skirt until it was bunched up around her hips, her brief, lacy panties were swiftly dealt with and his hot, urgent fingers found her melting core with unerring accuracy, stroking, plunging and preparing her. Her hands dropped to his belt buckle and she fumble with the opening of his trousers until she held him captive in her hands. She did her own stroking and caressing, loving the familiar satiny feel of him, loving the heat, the hardness, the substantial size…

He made an animalistic sound, swinging her around and backing her up until she was leaning against the workstation he had so casually been half-sitting on before. He lifted her up until her backside was firmly planted on the desk and moved between her spread thighs. Tilting her pelvis slightly, until he had the angle just right, he finally, with a groan of pure satisfaction, sank into her soft, welcoming heat. Theresa’s breath hitched as she was, once again, caught by surprise by his length, girth and incredible hardness.

She lifted her slender legs and clasped them around his hips as, after the first gently thorough thrust, he simply rested against her. With his hands braced on the desk on either side of her hips, he lifted his head to look down into her eyes. Theresa was undone by that, as he had never simply just looked at her before, not in bed nor out of it. His dark eyes continued to search hers and she wondered what it was he was looking for. She licked her lips nervously and his gaze dropped to her mouth and something completely unrecognizable suddenly flared in his eyes and his pupils dilated until his eyes were virtually black.

Theresa’s breath was starting to come in little gasps as she tried to control her own need to move against him. Her hips gave the slightest twitch and she felt herself spasm around him. He hissed at the movement, his face clenching as he finally withdrew slightly, only to plunge back into her as if he couldn’t bear to leave. That was all it took for Theresa’s head to fall back limply and her mouth to open on a soundless scream of ecstasy. The record speed of her orgasm seemed to take Sandro by surprise, as well as, trigger his own. With a shocked sound and another half-thrust, he buried himself as deep as he could go, arching backwards in the process and coming violently. It seemed to last forever but eventually his entire body went limp and he half-collapsed against her, burying his face in her damp neck.

So stunned was Theresa by the unprecedented swiftness of the act, it couldn’t have lasted more than three minutes, that she nearly missed the words. In fact, she may have missed them entirely if she hadn’t felt his tell-tale breath on the sensitive skin of her neck. But he said them. The words were muffled but she knew exactly what he was saying. His mantra, his prayer…

“Give me a son, Theresa…” and just like that, it was over for her. Her legs fell away from his waist and she pushed at his chest until her levered himself up to look down at her curiously. He made a soft sound of protest when he saw the tears on her cheeks and attempted to fold his arms around her. Yet another unprecedented move but she shoved him again until he stepped away from her.

“Why are you crying?” He asked hoarsely as he readjusted his clothing.

“I hate you,” she despaired, dashing at the tears.

“What we just did didn’t feel like hatred to me,” he pointed out.

“Just another…” her mouth started to form the ugly word but he cut her off.

“Don’t say it,” he snapped. “Don’t you dare say it!”

“Why not?” She protested. “It’s the truth and don’t you try to pretend otherwise at this stage of our so-called marriage, Sandro. Do you think sex makes things better? It makes everything worse, like adding petrol to an already raging fire. All you’ve proved is that I am humiliatingly unable to resist you!”

“That is entirely mutual,” he responded dryly and she went still.

“Oh, please…” She choked. “Of course you can resist me. I’m just another woman to you. I’m of no particular consequence, so don’t try to play yet another game with me, Sandro! I’m sick of your lies and deceit.”

“Dio,” he hissed furiously. “You’re not just another woman, you’re my wife! You hold a position of great consequence in my life.”

“A wife you’re ashamed of? I don’t think so!”

“Whoever told you that I was ashamed of you?” He seemed outraged by the very notion.

“You did…”

“Theresa, everything else that you’ve accused me of so far has had some element of truth to it. But this is just plain ludicrous! I have never, not once, told you that I am ashamed of you…”

“You never said it; you didn’t have to…” she slid off the desk, making sure that her skirt was straight before looking up at him again. “You show me every day.”

“What?”

“I’ve never met your family, the large and extensive family that means the world to you, I know that you have two close friends, Rafael Dante and Gabriel Braddock, they’re university buddies if I’m not mistaken, you play football with them every week. You didn’t think I knew that, did you? I haven’t met any of those people of consequence in your life,” and there was Francesca, of course but Theresa wasn’t ready to confront him with that bit of knowledge yet. “They are the people who matter to you and if I’d been the wife you wanted, a wife you were not ashamed of, I would undoubtedly have met them by now!”

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