Chasing Mrs. Knightly (Chasing #5: Chasing Epilogue) Read Free

should do,” she said with satisfaction.
    Strolling over towards me as she strung the cable before making another go at securing my tied hands. “There, now we can start.”
    Well it’s about bloody time, my cock has almost died of suffocation and abandonment , I thought haughtily before I felt the hot, stinging slap of her palm. It wasn’t hard enough to leave in imprint on my skin, but it was enough to shock me, nonetheless.
    “What in God’s name was that for?” I gritted out as I met her eyes.
    Sienna remained the same, her expression concealing whether the slap was meant to be playful or something else entirely. But then, that was before she folded her arms and took a deep, heated breath, her golden eyes becoming liquid gold, taking over the hints of green and amber. “That was for attending the World Cup and having your photo taken with that socialite.”
    Fuck, I hadn’t realized that had made it to the pages. I should’ve known it would have eve ntually made its way into the British press. I should’ve known, and yet I hadn’t thought much of it. The price of this idiocy was, it had made my wife a tad batty.
    “It’s merely a picture, Sienna. Don’t tell me that got your knickers into a twist?” It was meant to tease her obvious, emotional state, but that backfired on me.
    She was becoming wretched, emotions getting the best of her. “I’m a jealous woman—we both know this—and I hate when other women try to take what’s rightfully mine.”
    I tensed before I looked at her squarely. “If you’re implying…”
    Sienna audaciously rolled her eyes at me. “I know you’re not cheating. Of course, I do, but I just hate the fact that they still try. I warned you about this, and yet you never listen. Why’s that? Hmm?” She strutted back and forth, hips distractingly swaying, merely fueling the fire that needed to be unleashed in her cunt while I spitefully stared at her in awe and arousal at the same time I wanted to bloody throttle her beautiful self.
    In midstride, she stopped before me, eyes never leaving mine as she slowly unzipped her dress before letting it pool on the floor. She then sidestepped the dress and kicked it to the side, sliding it against the pantry cabinets.
    Mio Dio! One whole bloody week, and she was dangling this decadent body of hers without mercy to my rabid cock.
    “Sienna—fucking hell—I need you, cara.” Pumps, lace bikini underwear, and lace strapless bra was all I could think about as my hungry gaze took in her insatiable body. Her curves were calling out to me, to taste, to nip and bite. Why was she keeping up with this torture, anyway? She was just as ravenous as I was.
    My wife, it seemed, had different intentions because she kept on talking, not doing . “So, in my infuriated state, I called your good friend who’d offered me that underwear modeling opportunity the last time we were in Rome. Remember him?” She paused for effect while I felt my heart hammering against my throat. “I think his name was Armani, was it?” She dug the knife in deep, right where it hurt.
    My body turned cold. “Untie me—” I demanded harshly as I acutely stared at her. This time, I truly wanted to throttle her until she stopped talking all this nonsense.
    She cocked her head to the side, smiling like a cat that got the canary, seeing I was about to lose my marbles. “I’m not done yet.”
    “You will not flaunt your body, Sienna,” I harshly threw back at her. Over my bloody dead fucking body. She wouldn’t do it. She was using this to taunt me, and for me to finally listen to her demands. Well, this time, I was truly listening.
    Her strutting came to a halt. “You flaunt yourself. Well, why can’t I?” her perfectly arched brow mocked me. “Besides, I’d love to see your face when I’m posing next to a hot, male model.”
    Santo Cielo! But she knew how to make my blood pressure skyrocket to the inevitable.
    “Sienna…” I warned, but she was