Hateful Games: (An arranged marriage billionaire romance) (Arranged Games Book 2)

Tonight is going to be a waste of time.

That I could be spending writing.

Nevertheless, when you’re born in the world of corruption, wealth and deceit, everyone has to play the part. Schmoozing is par for the course. Being the wife of one of the wealthiest men in the country makes it an obligation I can’t back out from.

The after-wedding reception will be the ultimate test to pass.

The one my cunning and emotionless father has been preparing me for all my life.

As I finish the last touches to my makeup, I wonder if Nova has any expectations on how I should behave.

The world doesn’t know it but my father is a sexist man and believes women only have a single role. To blend into the background while the men lead. It’s no wonder he never let either Jasmine or I into the family business.

Nova hasn’t shown any signs.

He finds my defiance and sarcasm amusing. Even though, in the past, he was cold-hearted every time we attended public events. His coldness bordering on indifference made me feel like dirt beneath his feet.

Will tonight be the same?

It’s one thing to let me be myself behind closed doors but an entirely different reality outside in front of the hawklike attention of the media and enemies alike.

Summoning steel into my spine, I stare at my reflection in the black satin and lace gown with a slit. It took careful maneuvering for the stylist to put it on because of the thin and delicate see-through lace on the sides, showing off my naked skin. The front and back are satin with a deep V-cut, and one arm is hidden beneath the lace.

My wine-red hair falls in curls around my shoulders. The makeup artist gave me smoky eyes, a subtle blush, and my signature red lips. The diamond bracelet glints in the light when I gather my hair over one shoulder.

Clicking a selfie, I send it in the group chat with my best friends. Their response coming immediately.

BIANCA: Gorgeous girl.

IRIS: *snorts* Nova isn’t letting her walk out in that dress, which says a lot since I’m pretty sure you’re naked.

IRIS: P.S: You’re slaying as always, Ro. I’m borrowing that dress.

ME: You’re confusing Nova with Dash, Iris.

IRIS: That’s not what I hear.

ME: I told you both that threat meant nothing.

I regret telling them about Nova’s display of possessiveness in the kitchen.

BIANCA: Denial. That’s how it starts.

IRIS: Better glue that dress, Ro. Just to be safe.

ME: Shut up, you both.

BIANCA: Have fun.

These two are having too much fun at my expense. I’ll set them straight on our next lunch date.

I decide to make my way out of the bedroom before Nova comes knocking. He has said twice already now that I’m making him late. The second was issued with a threat to spank my ass. I hate that my first instinct was to disobey him.

Descending the spiral staircase, I run straight into my husband. The expensive tux fitted to perfection as he stands with his back to me.

I can’t believe a week has passed since we got married. I thought I’d be miserable.

Instead, I’ve felt more alive than I have in years.

The purpose of tonight’s party is to introduce us as a newly wedded couple. The media will be panting to interview us. It’s not often two powerful families who are lifelong enemies and with twisted roots like ours join together for a joyous occasion.

Nova turns upon hearing my heels clacking on the floor. He freezes the second his always feral eyes land on mine. He doesn’t blink. Or breathe. Except the visible hardening of his jaw, there’s no other reaction.

I suck in a sharp breath.

The air sizzling with tension.

The kind I’m feeling more and more in his proximity lately. Tonight, his expression is even darker and edgier.

It’s the same as that night.

Ten years ago, when he waited in my bedroom like an intruder with the confidence of a man who belonged there. My body had reacted the same way. Like it didn’t know whether to run or stay.

Hide or disappear.

Fight or cower.

I clear my throat, attempting to snap him out of his startling reverie. If possible, he becomes angrier. Hotter. More rugged. My heart, that is hardly affected by any man or catastrophe, hyperventilates as the temperature thickens.

Nervous. He’s making me nervous with his silence. Intensity. Utter masculinity.

I never thought chiseled and clean-shaven guys could ever pull it off. Yet he proves me wrong with a single look.

“Nova,” I call out, putting as much annoyance as possible in my tone. Of course it comes out throaty and breathless. I sound like those silly girls staring at their crush. I’m none of those things.

This energy between us is foreign.

Or was I just oblivious to it?

I don’t like it. I want his barbs. His insults. His threats. So I can call this a figment of my imagination.

My feet move backward on instinct as he takes a step forward. Still unnerving me with his quietness. The vulture has always something to say. I keep backing away until I collide against the wall. He stops less than a breath away when our predator and prey dance ends.

Since when did I turn into a prey? Apparently, I’ve entered another dimensional world.

Even though I’m by no means short, I still have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. I swallow when he raises his hand and ever so slowly wraps his thick fingers around my throat.

This has to be crossing unspoken lines in our game of wills.

The race of destroying each other.

I shouldn’t allow it to happen every time we’re within touching distance. As I’m enveloped by his scent, his last night’s speech reverberates in my mind. I fight the urge to clench my thighs.

“Let go.” I could rip his hands off. But good Lord, I just fucking can’t. He presses on the sides in response. The gold in his brown eyes turning molten. “You want a kick to the balls, then just say it.”

“Why always so feisty, wife?”

“Why always such a dick, hubby?” I retort.

“No need to talk in circles.” My fingers curl against the wall, seeking purchase. Some anchor as he bends inches from my mouth, his warm breath teasing my lips that part involuntarily. His low voice a seductive purr, raising goosebumps on my skin as he speaks. “You aching for my dick in your needy cunt? Then just say it.”

“Fuck you.”

“See. That’s better.”

I glower at him and finally lose my patience as I shove at his stony chest. He doesn’t budge. Not even an inch. What is he made of? Granite. Cement. Then again, he’s Satan’s spawn, so how can a mere human hurt him?

“What would be better for you is to step back. Unless you want to go to the party with two broken hands,” I threaten.

His fingers tighten, suffocating and sending shock waves down my body. It feels exhilarating. A rush of thrill coursing through my limbs. “I thought lying was beneath the Kapoors because I don’t believe you really want my hand gone from your delicate neck.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Is that why your nails are practically digging in my waist, my thorny Rose?” he taunts.

I startle and even though I can’t look down because of his tight and domineering grip, I can feel my fingers clutching him. Using him as an anchor. And it’s not the only thing I notice. Feel. Crave.

Because not only am I holding him, I’ve also pulled him flush against me until our lower halves touch. My eyes become heavy-lidded as I feel his unmistakable and large bulge. His thick cock pulsing and fighting the confines of his pants as it presses right against my lower abs.

Fuck me. Why did the rumors have to be true?

His is not your average, run-of-the-mill dick.

I haven’t forgotten the sizzling memory of him in my mouth. Hot. Throbbing. Every inch that he made me count. I can read the same memory in his sinful eyes.

I gasp when his head tilts until those soft lips that are always in a cruel scowl ghost over mine. Teasing me with just a touch. A tiny feel. I forget about letting him go when he nudges my nose with his, his parted lips roving over my cheeks, my lips. Doing everything but kissing.

No. Kissing and him shouldn’t even be in the same sentence.

“Nova… What are you playing at?” I ask in defeat. He has me trapped, crowded, and under his mercy.

My eyes drift close as he tilts my head farther back and he practically growls, “I hate the dress you’re wearing.”

“What?” Shock laces my voice.

“I hate the way it’s touching your skin. Hate the way it’s distracting me with the shape of your perky tits. Just a perfect handful that I could easily swallow one whole in my mouth. I hate it’s making me have filthy fantasies that I have no business thinking about when I don’t have time to act on them. And I especially fucking hate that it’s not lying in a heap on the floor.”

My jaw is on the floor by the time he finishes his erotic monologue.

My nipples hard.

My pussy wet. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I’m still reeling, absorbing, and getting my bearings when his hand disappears from my throat and he drops to his knees. His large hands grasp my waist to stop my fall because I suddenly feel bereft. Once I’m steady enough for his satisfaction does he act.

“Just one taste.”

“Nov—”

The words die on my tongue when he hikes the skirt of my dress up and spreads my thighs. An animalistic growl erupts from his chest as his feral eyes feast on my nude thong. The material is damp and embarrassingly sticky from my arousal. From lust for a man I despise. Abhor. Desire.

I suck in a sharp breath, shifting, restless with nowhere to go when he traces my slit with the pad of his thumb over my thong. His gaze locked on the movement of his finger. Up. Down. Deep. Circling when it reaches my clit. Coaxing it out to play.

“So pink.” Rubbing. “So drenched.” Dipping. “So enticing.” Pinching.

“You hate me.”

The wet material is pushed aside and one long finger is thrusted to the hilt in my clenching walls. I buck against his palm grinding on my clit while he keeps his digit lodged deep. He rubs it around in my channel, searching a spot I know hardly any man can find. Yet he does in one second and presses down. Hard. Tapping and teasing it until I drip down his wrist.

“Oh god. Fuck,” I cry out, moaning and desperate to ride his finger, which he intentionally doesn’t allow me to. I almost whine when he pulls it out, certain he’s about to leave me hanging and this moment was just another tactic to have me powerless. My train of thought screeches to a halt when a second finger joins and thrusts inside me.

“So impossibly tight,” he grunts harshly while fingering me deep.

My own fingers seeking pleasure hidden away in the night is nothing against his. They didn’t even bring an ounce of ecstasy compared to his. It is so unfair. Leave it to my fate to pair me with a man I won’t beg to fuck me.

This is only a one-time thing.

A hidden treasure I’ll allow myself once.

“Forget your ass, I’ll have to prepare your cunt so I can fuck it with my cock without bruising you, wife.” His voice tight with barely controlled lust. “Even though the idea has appeal.”

“Shut up.”

“Good idea.”

His lips press against my pussy in an open-mouthed kiss.

I whimper in shock and pleasure and everything in between when his head dips and takes a long lick of my slit. All the while his rhythm doesn’t slow down. Instead, it becomes punishing and rough like he hates how much he’s enjoying my taste yet can’t stop.

Because the feelings are mutual.

I couldn’t stop him if I tried.

His tongue swirls around my clit, licking and sucking the throbbing nub. Sharp teeth nip and scrape, adding delirious pain that adds to the ache building in my core. A third finger joins deep in my pussy. The stretch burning so good.

Again, I try to ride his hand but he uses his free one to flatten against my belly and hold me immobile against the wall. The same thrill of being dominated by this psycho fills and thrums underneath my skin. But I need more. Desperately. So, I do the one thing I vowed I’ll never do in front of this man.

“Please,” I beg.

The air cackles as he freezes. Fingers seizing inside me as our eyes connect. Mine are drugged on lust, the need to come and to end the ache while his mirrors the same.

“Say it again,” he rasps.

“Please.”

“Louder.”

“Please let me come.”

Those devious eyes darken and he demands more. Always more than I’m willing to give. “Now say it with my name on those red lips, Rose.”

Our eyes are locked in a battle as I glare at his pleased expression. But my body’s needs win and I give in to him. “Please, Nova.”

“Good girl.”

How does he know?

Damn him. It’s like he knows every dark secret I possess. The need to be owned. Possessed. Craved with an urgency. Because in the next breath, his mouth is devouring me, eating my pussy with so much hunger and vigor like he’s been starved his whole life.

My back bows when he bites down on my clit, his tongue lashing and flicking as he holds it between his teeth while his fingers continue their assault on my pussy. Ripping out his fingers after three more vicious thrusts, he replaces it with his tongue and pushes deep.

“Yes. Yes,” I scream.

“Ride my tongue.” He orders after easing his grip on my belly. “And don’t you dare stop until I tell you. Until I’m soaked in your cum, your wetness. I want to taste you on my tongue all night long, Rose.”

His mouth. His oh-so filthy mouth.

I don’t recognize myself as I obey him and slide my fingers in his hair so I can feel his talented tongue even deeper. I ride his face with abandon and it spurs him on because his hands find my ass and squeeze. His pleasured growl sending vibrations up my spine gives me sensory overload.

I’m greedy as I use his mouth for my pleasure.

“Oh fuck, Nova.” I whimper, moan, cry.

He tongue fucks me harder. I’m so lost, delirious, and distracted by the orgasm barreling down on me that I don’t notice until his thumb dips between my ass cheeks and pushes against my forbidden entrance. One nudge and that’s all it takes for me to shatter around him.

“Nova!”

“Fucking delicious,” he praises, sounding far away.

It takes a few minutes to come down to earth from the mind-shattering orgasm. Aftershocks rocking my body as I’m held up by his firm hands. My chest heaves up and down from the racing of my heart. Another jolt hits my system that I let my enemy, the bane of my existence and the man who wants to destroy my world, just made me come on his mouth.

And I begged.

His thumb dragging over my swollen lips pulls me out of my reverie and I focus on him. Nova is still kneeling between my thighs with his eyes laser focused on my pussy. I’m so sensitive that I hiss when he slides my panties rightly over me. As though it was a toy he finished playing with and now is wrapping up.

“How many men have tasted this pussy before me, Rose?” he muses, standing to his feet until he’s looming over me again.

“Lots.”

His lips, the bottom slightly thicker than the top and glistening with remnants of my juices, tilts into a smirk. Like he’s in on a secret I’m not aware of. The bastard knows I’m lying. It’s written all over my burning face. For fuck’s sake, I write the nastiest shit for a living yet whenever he talks dirty to me, I blush like a goddamn virgin.

“Don’t worry. I won’t be comparing notes so it doesn’t damage your fragile ego,” I taunt, the haze of lust wearing off and hatred returning to its rightful place again.

He isn’t affected by my insult and grabs my jaw to rub his wet fingers over my lips that were inside me. He coats my mouth with my essence until I’m wearing it like lip gloss. Only once he’s satisfied does he remove his hand and steps back so I’m no longer breathing his earthy and unique scent.

He must not have smoked today because the smell of tobacco is missing. Actually, I haven’t seen him smoke since we’ve been living together.

So, does this mean he’s being considerate? Does he even possess the quality?

“You won’t be comparing notes. Period,” he answers in his flat tone. “Wanna know why?”

“Since you gave me an orgasm, I’ll indulge you.” I smirk and ask, “Why?”

“Because I own your pussy now.”

“Just because you licked it once, it doesn’t become yours.”

“No. The wedding papers you signed makes it mine.” Crossing the gap once more, he warns and promises in one breath, “It means every inch of you belongs to me. Your lips. Your cunt. Your ass. Your very fucking breath is mine to control. So don’t you dare touch your pussy unless I allow it.”

“In your dreams, you bastard.”

He smirks in glee and turns around and throws over his shoulder, “You might want to change that dress. There’s a rip in the skirt.”

I look down and find a big gaping hole in the lace of my dress. When the fuck did he do that?

The time you were riding his tongue like a high-priced jockey.

He’s so going to pay for this.