✓ WICKED VOWS| JAKE (Book II )

27-The Other Sixty Percent

Anna's pov

"Does this validate your sixty percent?" His nostrils flare before he captures my lips in a fierce kiss. I gasp as he grabs a fistful of my hair, pulling it, and a dark heat floods through me.

Tonight, he felt daring, silent, and on edge—like the old Jake, the one who didn't want me. He seemed ready to publicly display just how much I had tested his patience. I shifted uneasily on my high heels. His cold, deliberate hand trailed along my neck and chest, pushing me down until I was sprawled on the kitchen island. I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling his erection press into me as he leaned forward. His long hair fell around my head like a silky black veil, blocking out everything but his face.

He stood tall with broad shoulders, his tousled dark hair framing a perpetually frowning face. There was something dark and dangerous about him, an aura that screamed danger, urging me to flee. Yet, despite the fear, I remained entangled, drawn to the sinister allure radiating from him.

"Do I have your permission?" His rough voice breaks the silence, sending a shiver down my spine.

I smile and squeeze my legs around him tighter. "What?"

"Your permission, Lady Annastasia," he repeats, his tone laced with a dark, sinister edge.

"Well, you are my husband. Do what you ought to do," I whisper a mix of challenge and submission in my voice, feeling the dangerous thrill of surrender.

In one swift, brutal motion, he tears my dress from neckline to hem, the fabric falling to the floor in tattered remnants. His hands glide over my throat again, then trace the length of my arms until his fingers encircle my wrists like iron manacles. He wrenches my hands away from his face, pinning them to the cold edge of the countertop.

His breath is hot against my ear as he whispers, "Good. Because I intend to do exactly that." His lips graze my earlobe, sending a jolt of electricity through me. His fingers linger on my throat, pressing lightly, a silent reminder of his control. They trail down my arms, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake until they encircle my wrists once more. The grip is firm, and possessive, like a predator savoring its prey.

He forces my hands down to the cold edge of the countertop, his strength undeniable. My heart races, anticipation mingling with a hint of fear. His eyes, dark and intense, never leave mine. There's a primal hunger in them, a promise of what's to come.

His mouth descends on my neck, planting hard, possessive kisses that make me gasp. Each kiss feels like a brand, marking me as his. He moves lower, his lips searing a path over my collarbone, down to the swell of my breasts. He pauses just above my left breast, his eyes locking with mine as he takes his time, savoring the moment.

A kiss lands on the side of my neck, then another on my collarbone. One more, lower, just above my left breast. These are not light, fluttering kisses; they are hard and possessive, branding every inch of my skin with his mouth. Each kiss feels like a dark mark of ownership, searing into me with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine.

I have waited so long for this, dreamed of his hands and lips on my body, and imagined how it would feel. This surpasses everything my desperate mind conjured. My skin is electrified, pins and needles prickling everywhere he touches. It's like when he watches me, but a billion times more intense. Warmth swells inside my chest, filling the cracks in my soul. I hadn't even known they were there until this moment. I didn't know there were parts of me missing, but now, they are suddenly whole. 

My core clenches and my legs tremble as his lips trail down the valley of my chest and stomach. When he reaches my soaked panties and inhales, the sensation alone nearly sends me over the edge.

"I'll have your scent in my mind each time I think about you, Ace," he murmurs, taking another deep breath before tearing my panties off.

He delves deeper, French-kissing my body. Tremors shoot down my spine as I arch my back, whimpering, wanting. My entire being feels like it's unraveling—body, mind, and heart—all ready to explode in perfect union.

"Please," I moan, arching my back, mad with need. If I have to endure much more of this sweet torture, I might just go insane. Fast, short breaths escape me as I watch him. His stormy eyes lock onto mine as he reaches for the button on his pants, while his other hand lands between my legs. Deft fingers stroke my already sensitive parts, each sensual caress wreaking havoc on my senses.

He unzips his pants, teasing my insides with the pad of his thumb. "Please, what?"

My gaze wanders down his chiseled chest, across the three lines of perfectly defined abs, and rests on his huge length. My core muscles clench at the mere thought of having him inside me. "Please, validate the fifty percent left."

"So I already validated ten percent?" He grabs me behind my knees, pulling me closer.

"Only ten," I pant, my breath hitching as the tip of his cock teases my entrance. Then, in one swift motion, he buries himself all the way to the hilt. My shriek of pleasure fills the room, quickly transforming into moans as he pounds me relentlessly. His breaths are sharp and fast, with a steady rhythm. Every muscle in his body is taut as his cock plunges deeper with each thrust, his eyes boring into mine. They are not empty now; I see the tempest roaring to life in his turbulent gaze.

My inner walls spasm around his length, an ardent fever singeing my body, seeking a way to burst free. I release the counter edge I've been gripping, grabbing his forearms instead. My nails dig into his skin as I stare at him. He hadn't looked away from my face since the instant he plunged inside of me.

His piercing gaze holds mine captive while his right hand moves up my thigh, over my stomach, stopping on my chest. "Now enjoy feeling the other fifty percent, Lady Anastasia," he growls, thrusting until he bottoms out, waking me from my desire. The realization hits me—I had just had sex with my husband while drunk. I knew I was screwed the moment I pulled myself away from him, the moment I looked down at myself and realized what the heck we were doing, the moment I hated myself for reasons unknown.

I feel him pulling back too, before he releases me, leaving me sitting alone in the dimly lit living room.

One thing I knew that night was that sleep did not swallow me whole.

My shriek of pleasure fills the room, quickly transforming into moans as he pounds me relentlessly. His breaths are sharp and fast, with a steady rhythm. Every muscle in his body is taut as his cock plunges deeper with each thrust, his eyes boring into mine. They are not empty now; I see the tempest roaring to life in his turbulent gaze.

When I allowed myself to hope, to imagine how it would be between us, it was always like this. Wild. Raw. Not like him, not the image he presents to others. He is usually calm and calculated, never angry and never pissed. But I've always known there's a fiend behind his usual detached and dark demeanor.

I feel him pulling back, too, before he releases me, leaving me alone in the dimly lit living room. He knows. One thing I knew that night was that sleep did not swallow me whole. Despite everything, my heart began to warm up by a single, hesitant percent.