Chapter 265

ALINA

"I'm so fucking sorry."

I wanted to say something.

Anything.

To scream at him.

To tell him his apology could go straight to hell and take his guilt with it.

To tell him he didn’t get to just say sorry and expect the world to rearrange itself around it.

To tell him I still loved him anyway.

My thighs still quaked from the aftershocks.

His warm cum leaked slow and sticky down my inner thigh, mingling with my own gush that had soaked the sheets in shameful arcs.

"That apology doesn't fix anything," I whispered, voice hoarse and trembling.

"You're still an asshole."

A quiet laugh escaped him.

"I know."

He leaned in and brushed a gentle kiss against my lips.

It was so different from everything that had come before it that it caught me completely off guard.

When he pulled back, he reached up and carefully tucked a damp strand of hair behind my ear.

His eyes met mine.

"I'll earn it," he murmured, his voice rough with quiet conviction.

"I'll make you forgive me."

His thumb brushed lightly along my cheek.

"Every single day."

A small pause.

"No matter how long it takes."

"Until you believe me again."

My heart, the infuriating little traitor, gave a tiny, hopeful flutter.

I mentally informed it that we were still angry.

It ignored me.

Typical.

One hand cradled the back of my head while the other rested securely at my waist, holding me close with quiet certainty.

His forehead rested against mine, the corner of his mouth lifting into that infuriatingly confident smile.

"You have no idea how fucking miserable last night was," he murmured.

"I didn't sleep."

A quiet, self-deprecating laugh escaped him.

"I tried.

I spent the whole night staring at the ceiling, wondering how long you were going to make me suffer.”

His eyes searched mine.

“And then I realized something.”

“What?”

His smile deepened.

“You’ll forgive me.”

I let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

“Oh, that’s adorable. You’re hallucinating optimism now.”

“I’m not hallucinating,” he said calmly.

“I think you might be.”

“I know you.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“That’s not a superpower. That’s just stalking with confidence.”

His mouth twitched.

“I know exactly how stubborn you are,” he continued, ignoring me.

“And I know exactly how big your heart is.”

I scoffed.

“Yeah? Well my very big heart is currently filing a restraining order against you.”

That finally earned me a low laugh.

He didn’t even pretend to be offended.

He just tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear like I hadn’t just threatened him legally and emotionally.

“You’re still furious.”

"Obviously.”

“You still don’t trust me.”

My glare sharpened.

“Congratulations. You’ve discovered consequences.”

His expression didn’t falter.

“You can glare at me.”

“I will.”

“You can insult me.”

“Oh, I fully intend to.”

“You can make my life absolute hell for weeks.”

A humourless laugh slipped out of me.

“I’m aiming for months, actually.”

“I’ll deserve it.”

His thumb brushed my cheek, far too gentle for how insufferable he was.

“But eventually…”

His eyes held mine with that same maddening certainty.

“…you’re going to forgive me.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“And if I don’t?”

His grin was slow.

Infuriatingly smug.

“Then I’ll revise my theory.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

“I’ll just assume I underestimated your capacity to stay mad.”

I scoffed.

He leaned in until our foreheads touched.

“I’m a very patient man when it comes to you.”

A beat passed.

"Besides..."

One corner of his mouth lifted.

"You married me."

I let out a disbelieving laugh.

"You blackmailed me, you moron."

He considered that for exactly half a second.

"Technicality."

"It is absolutely not a technicality."

"Fine."

He sighed dramatically.

"You reluctantly married me."

"I was coerced."

"You still signed the paperwork."

I stared at him.

"You are unbelievable."

"I've been told."

His smile softened, but the confidence never left his eyes.

"You're going to make me earn your forgiveness."

"DEFINITELY."

"And I'm going to earn it."

He said it like it wasn't a question.

Like it was inevitable.

"Because we're both smart enough to know how this story ends."

I folded my arms.

"We do?"

"We do."

His smile was quiet.

Certain.

"You forgive me."

I rolled my eyes.

"Not today."

"Maybe not."

"Not tomorrow either."

"I can wait."

"Next week doesn't look promising either."

"I've got time."

"A month."

"I'll still be here."

"A year."

"I'll annoy you for all three hundred and sixty-five days."

Despite myself, the corner of my mouth twitched.

His grin immediately widened.

"There it is."

"There what is?"

"The crack."

I instantly wiped the expression off my face.

"There wasn't a crack."

"There was."

"You imagined it."

"I've spent these last months studying your face."

He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

"I know every smile you try to hide."

I groaned.

His voice dropped, warm with certainty.

"You hate that I'm right."

I glared at him.

He kissed my forehead gently.

"I've already won the hardest part."

I raised an eyebrow.

"And what's that?"

His smile turned impossibly smug.

"You still love me."

The arrogant bastard.

Before I could respond, he rolled his hips in a slow, deliberate thrust, drawing a gasp from me.

He was still hard, still thick, stretching me open again as if the orgasm he’d just had was only the beginning.

“Alexander!” I gasped, my voice breaking.

His hand slid down to grip my thigh, holding me open as he sank even deeper.

“I’m going to fuck every bit of doubt out of you, wife,” he murmured, voice low and rough.

“Until the only thing you can feel is me. Until you forget how to be mad. Until all you know is how much I love you.”

I let out a shaky moan as he started moving again — slower this time, deeper, savoring every inch like he had all the time in the world.

“Tell me… has the mad-o-meter come down slightly after the last orgasm?” he whispered, a teasing smile tugging at his lips even as he rolled his hips in a slow, devastating grind.

I bit my lip hard, trying to hold onto the last scraps of my anger even as pleasure rippled through me with every thrust.

“No,” I gasped, voice breathy and unsteady.

“One good fuck doesn’t magically fix betrayal, you know. You’re still a massive, emotionally constipated asshole who thinks pink suits fix betrayal.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and low as he kissed the corner of my mouth.

“Okay then,” he murmured, nipping at my bottom lip.

“I’ll just have to keep fucking you until that meter hits zero, won’t I?”

“Arrogant bastard,” I whispered, the words losing their bite as another moan slipped out.

Alexander let out a dark, satisfied growl, curling his fingers deep inside me with ruthless precision while his thumb circled my clit in tight, relentless strokes.

“You keep saying that,” he rasped against my neck, biting down just hard enough to make me moan,

“and yes, I am. But I’m your arrogant bastard.”

His hand slid down between us where his cock was still buried deep inside me, fingers rubbing against the messy wetness of both our orgasms.

The obscene, wet sound of it made my face burn with embarrassment and fresh arousal.

He pulled his fingers out slowly, then brought them to his mouth, sucking them deep with a low groan that vibrated through my core.

His tongue swirled around them, tasting the salty-sweet mix of our combined release while his eyes held mine, dark and delving.

"Fuck-we taste like spite and sin, wife," he murmured, voice rough with satisfaction.

I shivered, the filthy sight and words sending another pulse of heat through me.

"You're disgusting," I breathed, but there was no real heat behind it.

He smirked, leaning down to kiss me, letting me taste us on his tongue.

"You love it," he whispered against my lips.

Before I could snap back at him, he spun me around - rough and possessive - pinning my belly to the bed.

The mattress dipped under my weight as he positioned me exactly how he wanted, ass high and presented like an offering.

"Alexander," I scolded, cheek pressed to the sheets, voice shaky.

"You can't just manhandle me like-"

His hands spread my cheeks wide, thumbs dipping to part my folds, exposing my sopping entrance to the cool air.

I moaned low, thighs spreading wider despite myself as his cock slapped heavily against my ass cheek.

The thick head dipped just enough to tease my entrance, rubbing the slick mess of our previous orgasms along my slit, coating me in our combined release.

I pushed back shamelessly, chasing the stretch, desperate for him to fill me again.

"Have patience, wife," he murmured, voice dark and teasing as he continued rubbing his cock against me from behind, the head nudging my clit with every slow, torturous pass.

"I'm going to give you exactly what you need..."

"Patience?" I panted, trying to hold onto my anger even as my hips rolled back against him, seeking more.

"You fucking tease. Push that lazy, fat cock into my pussy right now. Don't make me hate you more than I already do, you arrogant prick."

Alexander let out a dark, filthy chuckle, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance, dipping in just enough to stretch me before pulling back again.

"Such a filthy mouth when you're desperate," he growled, rubbing his cockhead up and down my slit, coating himself in my slick.

"You want this cock so bad you're dripping down your thighs, but you still want to act like you hate me? Cute."

I moaned, pushing back harder, trying to take him deeper.

"Just shut up and fuck me already, you bastard. Or are you too busy being a smug asshole to give me what I need?"

He finally pushed the thick head inside me, stretching me open with that first delicious burn.

"Oh, I'll give it to you, wife," he rasped, sinking another inch deeper.

"I'll fuck this greedy little ass until you forget how to say anything but my name."

"I hate you..." I whispered, the words shaky and half-hearted.

"Do you?" he asked, the smugness dripping from his voice as he pressed the head of his cock against my entrance again, not pushing in, just teasing.

"I think you love me a fucking lot, wife."

"You're half right," I shot back, voice breathy and biting.

"I love your cock. Not you. Don't let that go to your head, you arrogant bastard."

Alexander chuckled, low and filthy, the sound vibrating through me as he finally pushed the thick head inside me, stretching me open with that first delicious burn.

"Keep telling yourself that, Your Majesty," he growled, sinking another inch deeper, savoring the way my walls fluttered around him.

"I'll fuck the truth out of you soon enough."

I moaned, pushing back to take more of him, hating how right he felt inside me.

"Your arrogance is going to your head, you lying bastard," I gasped, trying to sound biting even as my voice cracked with pleasure.

"Too late, Your Majesty," he murmured, voice thick with smug satisfaction as he sank another inch deeper, stretching me so perfectly it made my eyes flutter.

"My head's already full of all the ways I'm going to wreck this pretty pussy until you're creaming all over my cock and forgetting why you were ever mad at me in the first place."

I bit my lip hard, fighting the moan that wanted to escape.

The worst part?

He probably would.