Forbidden Obsessions (Deviant Desires of Bennington University #2)

Chapter Nineteen

Tomas

M y palms sweat. My knees tremble. My mind races. When Olivia descends the staircase, in a mix of white lace and tulle, everything else ceases to exist. Brayden and Tim shake each of my shoulders excitedly, silently telling me how well I did.

Truthfully, I don’t know how I managed to get Olivia. She was supposed to be forbidden—the apple hanging in the garden of paradise that I oh so desperately wanted to take a bite of. And I did. I took five too many bites, to the point she consumed me, and well, here we are today.

Olivia’s mom, Mia, and Lex take their places opposite of us. Brent plays the grand piano in the foyer as Olivia continues walking straight to me. My stomach remains in my throat, watching the most beautiful person in existence ready to take my name.

My wife. I swell with pride at the thought. Olivia walks toward me in a sea of white lace, and tulle. James cries as she takes her place next to Mia and Lex.

“Dearly beloved,” Judge Adams begins, and I’m already on the verge of tears. Olivia fishes for my hand as we stand face-to-face, listening to the ceremony.

“May I please have the rings?” We hand them over hastily. “Olivia, please repeat after me,” Judge Adams prompts.

“With this ring, I, Olivia, take you, Tomas, to be no other than yourself. Loving what I know of you, and trusting what I do not yet know, I will respect your integrity and have faith in your abiding love for me, through all our years, and in all that life may bring us.” She slides the ring onto my finger smoothly, tears streaming down her beautiful face.

Judge Adams turns to me. “With this ring, I, Tomas, take you, Olivia, to be no other than yourself. Loving what I know of you, and trusting what I do not yet know, I will respect your integrity and have faith in your abiding love for me, through all our years, and in all that life may bring us.” I glide the ring onto her and kiss her before it’s even announced that it’s time.

Judge Adams clears his throat. “You may kiss the bride,” he says, despite the fact that I already have my tongue down the bride’s throat.

Olivia’s parents are the first to draw us into a hug. “Congratulations!” Mia barrels into my back. Lex gives a small smile and piles in, Mia enveloping her in a hug.

“Hey! Wait for me,” Brent calls, running from the foyer. I’m pissed my parents didn’t give in and decide to attend, but at the same time, who fucking needs them?

I just spent the day marrying the love of my life and was championed by my closest family and friends. Olivia and the Hamiltons are my family now.

“What’s next?” Mia asks in a seductive voice.

I give her a sly smile. “I’m getting Mrs. DeLuca home to eat ice cream.”

Mia quirks a brow. “Which one of you is ice cream in this euphemism?”

“No euphemism. Literal ice cream,” I correct, watching the amusement in Olivia’s eyes. Nobody is brave enough to call us out. We say our goodbyes in a hurry. Nobody calls us out on that, either.

“Ice cream? Really?” She laughs the second we’re in the car.

“You married me,” I shrug. We’re in the middle of an intersection when Olivia’s seatbelt alarm starts going off.

“Olivia, put your seatbelt back on now.”

“ Oh, but Professor. What happened to tradition?” She flutters her eyelashes.

“A joke,” I grit out as she undoes my belt buckle.

“Sure doesn’t seem like one.” I groan in relief and horror as she frees my cock.

“Olivia,” I warn sternly, but it’s too late. She takes me to the back of her throat.

“I don’t know whether to punish or praise you,” I muse, stroking her wild curls.

“Both, please,” she says, licking my shaft. I narrowly miss an abruptly stopping mail truck.

“Ouch,” she winces as I lift her by her hair.

“That was punishment. You’ll get praise when you deserve it,” I tell her with a grin. She squirms.

I carry her from the street to the kitchen the second we get home. My fight has already died down. I just want to praise her in the filthiest, most depraved ways possible.

“Welcome home, Mrs. DeLuca.” I bunch the skirt of her wedding gown and set her on the kitchen island. She watches as I slip each one of her shoes off. I’ve done this for her hundreds of times, yet this time feels completely new, something unequivocal hanging in the balance.

When my hand finds the crotch of her pantyhose, I rip, like a starved animal. My fingers trace the apex of her thighs, trying to pull the useless garment from her legs.

“Do you wanna know what I was thinking about, Mrs. DeLuca?” I whisper in her ear.

“Enlighten me,” Olivia gasps softly, reveling in the sensation.

“I was thinking about bending my wife over the kitchen island and figuring out what a good little whore she is.”

“You’re in luck,” she says, pulling the sleeves down her shoulders, arms, and legs, before coming to rest in a heap on the kitchen floor. Her fingers pull at my belt buckle. The remainder of my clothes join hers in the same pile.

Fisting her hair, I pull her close for a bruising kiss before spinning her. She grips the island as I plant a trail of kisses the length of her spine.

“Tomas,” she whimpers, sending a desperate throb to my waiting cock. I stroke myself, admiring the curves and freckles all over her body.

She arches her back. “So needy and impatient,” I chuckle. My hand grazes the curve of her ass. She cries out at the small slap I deliver. The truth is, I’m trying to drag this out. I know the second I sink into her, it’s going to be game over.

With an aggravated huff, she reaches a hand back, forcing me to close the distance. I line myself up and sink into her. We both groan in relief simultaneously.

“There. Now, was that so hard?” she grits out between a series of moans and expletives.

“Have you always been this much of a smart ass?” I groan, wrapping my arm around her waist and keeping her flush to me.

“Don’t you remember the part that says you take me as no other but myself?” she quips, tensing around my cock.

I can’t answer her. Neither one of us can do anything except ride the pleasure coursing through our bodies. She pants, flush against the kitchen counter, as I do the same on her shoulders and back.

We walk through the house and start the shower, waiting for the water to warm. Olivia gives me a sleepy, content smile. “You aren’t even going to make it for ice cream, are you?”

She shakes her head and yawns. “Bed after this, please.” We step in and huddle together under the warmth. I wash her hair and body—something I’m finding I enjoy a lot.

Despite the joy we shared today, I can see the day has taken a toll on her. The worry for her mother is written all over her face. It’s clear Maura doesn’t have a lot of time left, especially as she starts hospice.

Olivia catches me staring. “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.

“Not really, but will hospice take some of her pain away?” Olivia looks at me, hopeful. The plea in her eyes nearly breaks me.

“Yes,” I swallow, “but it will likely take her with it.” She nods in understanding and wraps herself around me. I don’t know how long we stay there. I don’t even care. I’ll give my wife however long she needs. We have forever and a day now, anyway.