Chapter 33: The GirL Who Can’t Be Moved
Present
“Good evening, Mr. Montgomery.” The man at the desk smiled at us, “Your table is this way, Sir.”
Cillian took my hand and led me to the corner of the restaurant, and the waiter yanked a chair.
“Thank you.”
“Would you like something to drink first?”
“Yes,” my husband flipped to the wine menu. “Anything you like?” He asked, reaching for me.
Our eyes lingered on each other for a moment.
“This one was good.” I gulped in satisfaction.
“I’m glad you approved. I have good taste in everything.
He emphasized the last part, and I grinned bashfully, knowing his words were meant for me.
Our eyes locked again. Gosh, it was almost primal.
I broke the hypnotizing spell. “We should order,” I said, lifting the menu to cover my almost cherry-like face.
“We shall.” Cillian agreed, humor wrapped in his tone.
His sight scanned me from my head down to my cleavage.
Damn this dress, I would kill Arman and Maria. I should have stood my ground and just gone with the outfit I came in this morning.
“Look who’s here.” A sophisticated voice caught my attention.
A woman.
I stared at Cillian right there, and I knew he recognized the woman.
“Cillian.” The man beside the woman greeted.
He was tall and masculine, and the woman was simply breathtaking, a kind of face you plaster in magazines.
“Baxter And Leila.” Cillian acknowledged, closing the menu with more force.
“Fancy meeting you here, you must be the employee turned into the wife?” Her phrases were venomous.
What a snake. She was her.
Leila, the last woman Cillian bedded before me.
“Excuse me, I suddenly need to wash my hands from dirt.”
I gazed upon her sharply, and Cillian's midnight eyes were full of worry.
I entered the ladies' room, outrage filling the air I breathed.
The door clicked open, and Leila walked towards me.
Aggravation began crawling underneath my skin.
“Is gold-digging your hobby?”
Gold digging? Did she call me a gold digger?
My nostril flared. I didn't endure thousands of years looking after Cillian just to be labelled a money whore.
I was Queen Rinoa Linnea Niveh.
“I’m not a hoe like you, who can't seem to move on.”
I laced my voice in mockery and disgust; she deserved it.
Her eyes widened in shock, and her mouth opened to say something, but she closed it.
Cat got your tongue? I could fight her in any battleground she wants.
My swordsmanship was beyond par. King Cillian trained me.
My aim in archery was the best in the land; I had spent too many years under my husband’s command, making sure I knew how to protect myself, or I could even say yes in strangling her hair right now until she’s ugly and bald.
“Cillian was delicious, especially when he enjoyed eating me.”
Shameless bitch.
“Well, some men settle for a regular meal sometimes, you know what they say, the best meal is always worth the wait.”
“You cheeky b—”
“Oh, in case you don't understand, I’m calling you regular.”
I waved my engagement ring to her, may she die in jealousy, and may she rest in agony.
The bathroom door shut, and my fists turned into a ball.
Cillian was waiting outside, hands in his pockets.
I glanced at him, and a pang of envy joined me. He went down on her?
“Hey, baby, you’re sweating, do you feel sick?” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed my forehead.
Yes, I felt sick! How could I undo what Leila said?
“I want to go home,” I said to him, not meeting his eyes.
“Okay.” He didn't try to argue; the next minute, we were inside the vehicle.
I heard a click. Cillian pushed the separation window from the driver's seat to the backseat passenger.
“Was this the part where I asked him? I couldn't stop thinking of the vivid image of him having sex with Leila.
“Sloane, I’m sorry, I had no idea Baxter and Leil—”
“You don’t get to say her name. Cillian.”
I shut my eyes, reigniting my anger.
He took a deep breath, squeezing my hand for comfort.
“Get your filthy hands off me.” My words came out harsh and on fire.
“Baby, I already told you, punishing me for a mistake I made before you would only cause us to fight.” He said calmly, but I wasn't ready to match his cool.
He called her a mistake.
“How many times did you fuck her?” I asked him, my voice shaking.
“Sloane, we can talk at home, I promise to answer every doubt you—”
“How many times!” I yelled.
“I don’t know, maybe two.” He whispered, his voice resigned.
“Did you go down on her?”
“Damn it, Sloane, do I need to tell you how I fucked her?” He didn't shout, but his words got sharper.
“Answer my question, did you eat and feast on her dirty pussy!”
Cillian pulled me into him, covering my mouth with his. His kisses were desperate, in need.
And I kissed him back with all that I have.
“Your taste so good, wife, and your jealousy turned me on, there’s no other pussy for me, only yours.”
He dropped in front of me, pushing my legs wider. He flattened his tongue against my opening.
“I hate you,” I murmured, savoring his kisses.
“Of course you do.” He said, pulling my panties down.
Suddenly, I didn't want to play hard to get; I didn't care about Leila. I didn't care about the risks. He had something that I needed. I yearned to be the only woman who turned him on, and I’m taking it without question.
His eyes were dark, and his fingers dipped into my core, and he slid them through my flesh. “Hmm,” he whispers.
“I could blow just by feeling this exquisite, hot pussy, haven’t I proven that you’re the only one for me?”
He had.
I began to rock down on him with force, searching for a deeper connection, and his jaw hung slack as he stared up at me. I didn't know what the hell kind of pills someone slipped into my drink at dinner, or was this an angry sex?, but I found myself on the floor between his legs, and I unzipped his jeans with force.
He hissed as I pushed him back into his seat and spread his legs aggressively.
Our eyes locked, and I licked the end of him and tasted the wetness as it oozed from his head. He cupped my face, and I took him deep down my throat as he clenched.
“Fuck,” he growled like an animal in a whisper as his stomach contracted
“Fucking hell, Wife.”