The Unholy Bride: In God's Name, I Kill

Chapter 8 : The Devil's Punishment

Roman's POV:

Swirling the whiskey from my glass, I watched my wife gracefully take the grand stairs down and couldn't help but mutter a curse inside my head because of how she fucking looked so beautiful even in the dark.

The curves of her gorgeous body appeared to be a silhouette in the white night gown she wore, exposing her breasts, her nipples poking through it as she wasn't wearing anything underneath.

When my first love, Thia, died, from giving birth to our child, I was worse than any broken object in this world. During those moments, I didn't expect that my life could be darker than it already was. I looked for things I usually don't, and to make it worse? I didn't even know what it was, until I just found myself at the church where my wife used to serve, and that was when I believed in angels.

Mary Holloway was there, praising and devoting herself to someone who hadn't been proven to be one hundred percent true. But I went along with her delusion, spending my precious time visiting the church to hear her Lord's words through her beautiful mouth. In my darkest days, she had been my beacon, the light that guided me. But right now, she needed to understand that they were darkness that couldn't be brightened by her light.

"It's already late, Roman. What are you still doing here?" she asked, caressing my arm.

The sound of my name in her mouth instantly made me fucking hard, but I needed to ignore it, for now.

"Why did you set Mia's hair on fire?" I asked, instead of answering her question.

She stiffened, her throat moving as she gulped, and wandered her restless eyes in the dark. "I-I didn't.."

"Don't fucking lie to me, Mary. You know I don't like liars," I called out firmly, gripping her arm. She tried to back away, but I gripped her tighter, pulling her body closer to me.

"R-Roman, I'm hurting..." she whispered, wincing every word.

"You know that I don't care, Mary," I scorned. "Now tell me why you set Mia's hair on fire.

She gulped once more, her tiny body trembling against my broad frame. "I said, I d-didn't."

My jaw clenched and I roughly pushed her away, sending her to crash on the kitchen counter. "Get on the counter," I commanded.

"What?" she dumbfoundedly asked, her eyes blinking as she tried to stand up from the floor and regain her balance, her face was still distorted from the pain of her fall.

I took a deep breath and massaged the bridge of my nose to keep my composure. "You already made me repeat myself once, Mary. Don't wish for a second because you wouldn't like it."

I could already see her eyes glistening from the impending tears, but she still obeyed me, slightly soothing my nerves, but it wasn't enough. "Now strip off your clothes."

She gave me the look again, her eyes and mouth wide. "R-Roman, someone might see us."

"Do I look like I give a fuck, Mary?" I calmly uttered, but I was near to exploding, and she knew it, so she began to strip her clothes one by one. "Lie down, wife. Place both of your hands above your head." She obeyed exactly what I said, both of her tits falling to the side of her body as she lay naked on the countertop, every bit of her shaking with every pound of her racing heart. Indeed a fucking beautiful view.

Taking the time, I pulled my necktie, took it off to use as a knot to tie her wrists together, and then I took out my handkerchief to blindfold her teary eyes. When I was done, I took a single step back to admire her, tracing each part of her flawless body before a shadow came out, flashing a stupid yet proud smirk at me.

"Asshole," I mouthed to my best friend, Mason, matching the look on his face.

He just shrugged and leaned his back on the corner, keeping himself as quiet as possible, so I already returned my attention to my wife. I let her lay on the counter for a while as I lit a candle, and as soon as she heard the flicker of the match, she flinched and bit her lower lip to stifle any noise.

The candle's shadow danced in the darkness, and I watched it until the wax melted enough to spill on my wife's naked body. As soon as the first drop hit her skin, a whimper escaped her throat, but I didn't stop there. I leaned over the counter to spill some melted wax on her nipples, covering them until they were sore, and burning red.

"Is it hot?" I asked, and she nodded, still biting her lip while tears streamed down to the side of her face. "Then imagine what Mia must've felt when you set her hair on fire."

She cried even more, her tears darkening the color of my handkerchief that blinded her, bulking my pants from my hard cock. But I stopped admiring her when I heard a belt being unbuckled, that was when I found my best friend playing with his own cock.

"Can I?" he mouthed, asking for permission.

I lifted my middle finger at him, merely harvesting a grin on the side of his lips, but I eventually nodded my head and shifted my attention back to my wife to lower the candle onto her flat stomach, each drop of the melted wax creating red spots on her skin. Each of her winces mixed with my best friend's silent moans and his hand's fast movement around his cock, all echoing through the dark room.

"Come on, wife, open that mouth. Let those noises come out," I whispered against my wife's ear as I leaned down on her, the flame of the candle burning her skin, but she firmly shook her head and bit down on her lip harder.

I growled a laugh, finding her so ridiculous, yet so fucking gorgeous. How can she be both?

Leaving her side, I bent over in between her legs, parting them and exposing her pussy to my sight.

"Let's see how long you can endure not breaking that fucking pride," I uttered quietly as I blew out the candle, inserting the end of it in her pussy, mercilessly thrusting in and out.

"Roman!" she wailed, her cries going louder, but I didn't listen as I kept up with the pace to my best friend's hand, until his limbs went weak and his body drifted on the floor with his mouth slightly agape. "S-Stop please... stop." my wife tried to close her legs, but I roughly separated them, nearly cracking a bone in her hips.

"I'm not fucking done, Mary," I snarled, pinning her more against the counter's cold surface.

"Please, stop... I'm begging you. S-Stop, Roman..." she begged.

"Not until I hear what I want, wife." I pushed the candle deeper into her, the end of it almost disappearing.

She coughed, choking on her own tears, and tilted her head to the side, gasping for air. I waited, hoping she'd open her mouth and say the words I was asking for, but she remained silent. Frustrated, I stood up and walked to the kitchen drawer to retrieve a knife. When I returned, I wasted no time dragging the sharp tip of the blade lightly across her flawless skin, from her chest down to her belly button—just firm enough to draw blood, but not deep enough to cause more than a few drops.

"I was jealous!" she shouted, making me halt. "I-I was just jealous, R-Roman..." Her chest was rapidly moving up and down as she tried to calm herself down and talk straight. "Y-You were flirting and it was my birthday... Isn't that unfair? I'm your w-wife... I was jealous because I love you."

Blinking my eyes, I felt a surge of warmth in my chest upon hearing her confession, then I just found myself weak as I slowly removed her blindfold, revealing her tear-soaked eyes which she used to stare at me delicately.

"Shhhh... stop crying," I whispered quietly, brushing my thumb across her cheek to wipe the tears. She nodded her head and sniffed to swallow her sobs, while I carefully helped her to sit down.

"I'm s-sorry.." she said, still slightly sobbing, and suddenly enclosed her arms around my body.

For a moment, I was completely frozen, literally unable to move a muscle, stunned by the suddenness of it all. Then, I just heard myself exhale deeply, returning the hug while smoothing her tangled hair, all the while thinking to myself, I'm fucked.