CHAPTER 1
FOX
My father’s ultimatum is the reason I’m fucking standing here. Three months to find a wife, or he picks one for me. The threat would be laughable if Dane Sinclair weren’t dead serious about everything.
I know when I can go against my father, and this isn’t one of those times.
So here I am, standing before every single Raven, fucking marrying Ivy Graves. She’s the daughter of Silas Graves, head of the Ravens’ most effective intelligence operations. The alliance makes strategic sense for my family. The Graves network combined with the Sinclair influence creates a formidable partnership.
Those were the words my father used to describe what my marriage would be before he gave me a file on her.
Ivy is twenty-three years old. No scandals, no public embarrassments, no known relationships. On paper, she’s a perfect Raven bride.
I haven’t met her in person. Our fathers negotiated the terms, and I signed where I was told to sign. It’s how these things work in our world. You don’t marry for love. You marry for power.
My father found love in his second marriage when he bought Whitney at a widow auction, but that is a rarity. I never had illusions about something as trite as love. But I would’ve liked to have at least seen my bride to determine if I’ll be fucking her with her face covered until she gives me a son.
That’s what my father really wants…the next Sinclair heir.
And that’s the extent of what he’s going to get from me. Then, I’m going to find the woman I really want, and I can’t promise I won’t do some fucked up shit to ensure she’s mine.
The music shifts, and the doors at the end of the aisle open. We aren’t in a church, of course. There’s nothing holy about the Ravens. It’s all about money and power, and this display is for everyone else to pay witness to the fucking power that our two families are gaining with this marriage.
She steps into view, and my cock hardens. I can’t deny that she’s fucking gorgeous as I scan her body in the tight white dress she’s wearing. It shows off her perfect hourglass figure.
Her brown hair is down in long loose curls that are going to be wrapped around my hand as soon as we get these formalities over with. When her eyes meet mine, I see how bright blue they are. And she is going to be fucking beautiful with her mascara running down her cheeks when my dick is down her throat.
Ivy is closer now, and I notice something that makes me do a double take. The tiny mole just above the left side of her top lip…it’s in the same spot…as hers.
My hands curl into fists at my sides.
Suddenly everything clicks into place, and I recognize exactly who this woman is. Her body, the way she moves . . . it’s fucking her.
She is the masked woman I fucked months ago one night at Velum.
I had only wanted to drink and fuck. Then she showed up at the club, the same one many Ravens frequent to have a good time. That night she wore a black mask covering half her face and an almost see-through red dress that barely covered her ass. I made her crawl to me and used the fuck out of her body before I woke up alone.
And I have been obsessed with her ever since.
No woman has ever made me think twice about her. I tried to push it aside, but I needed to find her.
I pulled security footage, bribed staff, and followed every lead. Nothing. In the past year, no one had seen her at the club on any other night. And there was no way to even determine her name.
Ivy Graves, as it would turn out. The very woman is walking toward me in a wedding dress. And she’s about to be Ivy fucking Sinclair.
I’m expected to believe that she sought me out at my regular club and now she’s my arranged bride. Either this is a tremendous coincidence, like in some chick flick, or someone planned the real-life theatrics playing out.
And I don’t believe in fucking coincidences.
She reaches where I’m standing and stops in front of me. Up close, I can see the pulse beating fast in her throat. She’s nervous. She goddamn should be.
“Nice to meet you, Ivy.” I keep my voice even, playing along as the arranged groom seeing his bride for the first time.
“Yes.” Her voice is steady, but I catch a slight tremor underneath. “You are just as handsome as they said.”
So that’s how she’s going to play this. She’s going to have to be a lot better liar if she thinks she’s going to fuck with me.
The officiant begins the ceremony. I recite the vows when I’m told. Love, honor, obey. My little wife is going to obey all right.
My mind works through the timeline. It was six months ago that she approached me at Velum. My father started pressing for me to marry about three months ago. He is a lot of things, but he wouldn’t set up some scheme to use her as bait for me to fuck her and lose my head. Manipulating us in that manner isn’t his style. Dane Sinclair knows that he’s trained us to do what’s expected of us, and we’re going to do it.
This sexy little liar in front of me is up to something, and I’m going to find out what it is. And the almost-Mrs. Ivy Sinclair might not appreciate how I choose to punish her for it.
She knew who I was that night. She had to have known. And she certainly knows I’m the one who fucked her. But here she is, playing the blushing bride.
My father is watching from the front row, smiling like this is some kind of victory. I won’t tell him I already fucked my bride. I already know what she’s going to feel like during the claiming ceremony, but that’s our little secret.
“You may kiss the bride.”
I turn to face her. She tilts her chin up, her lips parting in anticipation.
I grip the back of her neck with more force than is necessary and pull her to me. The kiss is harder than it should be, but I might as well give the Ravens the show they expect. I feel her gasp against my mouth, and then her hands come up to grip my jacket.
When I pull back, her eyes are wide and her breathing is erratic.
“Mrs. Sinclair.” I let my thumb brush along her jaw. “You’re fucking mine now.”
Those who don’t want to watch the claiming ceremony stand to leave. The others live for this shit. They’ll jack off in their cars after they watch what I make my new wife do to prove that she’s mine.
“I’m proud of you, son.” My father and Whitney are both grinning in front of me. “You’ll see that this will work out for the best.”
Says the man who chose his wife. The second time anyway.
I say nothing in response and just nod as Whitney welcomes Ivy to the family.
I can’t help but watch her. Everything about how she moves appears intentional and fake. Is her little show for them, for me, or for someone else?
My brother Tate appears on my left side while Whitney and Ivy are chatting. “Damn, your wife is hot. How are you going to claim her?”
“Fuck off.”
“Fine. It’ll be a surprise.” He glances at Ivy and then back at me. “I’m definitely staying to watch.”
He says it like I’d care. My brothers and I have shared women before. We’ve tied them up and fucked every hole until cum dripped out of them. The claiming ceremony will be tame compared to that.
“I don’t give a shit. You’ve watched me fuck before.” Not that he ever gave a shit about me—it was always about whatever woman was spread beneath us. “Stick around. Maybe you’ll learn why they always prefer me.”
Tate’s laugh is low and dark. He shifts closer, shoulder brushing mine as his gaze drags over Ivy like he’s imagining her beneath him. “Prefer you? They prefer the man holding the rope, brother.” He gives me a small shove. “And I’m very good with rope.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Thorne, our youngest brother, is in front of us.
“Fox’s inability to satisfy a woman.”
Thorne laughs. “He’s going to kill you, Tate. Let the man have his day. Isn’t this supposed to be the happiest day of his life or whatever shit they say?”
Tate grips my shoulder, his attention on Thorne. “Our big brother is too easy to rile. Besides, it doesn’t matter what skills he has—he’s a married man now.” His fingers dig in. “That leaves all the pussy for us.”
I shrug off his grip. “Have fun fucking my leftovers.”
Thorne grins. “It’s never stopped us before.”
My focus shifts to Ivy a few feet away from me laughing at something Whitney said. She’s calm for a woman who’s about to be claimed in front of everyone.
Let them watch. Let my brothers run their mouths.
I’m ready to claim what’s fucking mine. Her pussy has been mine since that night, and whatever game she’s playing, she goddamn knows it already.
She might pretend now for the sake of whatever it is she’s after, but I know her panting and begging that night were real.
Thorne shoves my shoulder, pulling my attention from my wife. “At least she’s fucking hot, dude. You’ll have her knocked up in no time. That’ll keep Dad off our asses.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Thorne holds his hands up in mock defense. “I wouldn’t dream of touching our new sister. Unless you decide to share.”
The officiant rings the bell to call attention to the next part of the ceremony. Dad and Whitney make their way out of the room, which I give a silent breath of thanks for. Fucking a woman in front of my brothers is one thing, but in front of my father and his wife is different. In a bad way.
In the Ravens, the claiming is public by tradition. The husband demonstrates ownership, and the wife demonstrates submission. The details vary based on preference, but the message is always the same. The man owns his bride.
My father’s claiming of Whitney was legendary. He made her finger-fuck herself in front of the Ravens.
I don’t intend to share that much of my wife. But I intend to make a fucking point. And the message is for my new bride.
I lead Ivy to the center of the room and release her arm. She stands before me, chin up, shoulders back, waiting for direction. All Doves—the term for women in our society—know that they will go through this.
Some men will only wed virgins because they want to show off the blood on their dick to the entire room, like that somehow makes them even more of a fucking man.
I step away from Ivy, turning to face her with about ten feet between us.
“Kneel.”
The single word makes everyone in the room go silent. They are waiting with bated breath for something to happen.
Ivy holds my gaze. She juts her chin out and sinks to her knees. Her dress pools around her.
She’s going to be fun as hell to break.
“Good girl.” I let my approval show. “Now crawl to me.”
Making her crawl builds more anticipation than what they are used to. Most of these fuckers are eager to whip their dicks out and get to the deed. But the Ravens love a show, and my wife is going to give them one.
Ivy’s jaw tightens. Her hands press flat against the floor. She holds my eyes as she crawls toward me with slow and deliberate movements.
She’s performing. She’s acting submissive, playing the part she thinks I want her to play. But I also see the flush creeping up her chest and the way her breath quickens. Her body remembers what happened between us the last time I had her on her knees, even if she’s pretending otherwise.
She stops at my feet and looks up. If she sat back on her knees, she’d be level with my cock, which is straining against my pants.
“Kiss my fucking shoes.”
Ivy lowers her head. Her lips press against the polished leather of my shoe. Then the other. When she lifts her head, her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are bright.
I grab her hair and pull her up so she’s sitting on the back of her thighs. “Thank me.”
Her nostrils flare. “Thank you.”
“They can’t hear you, Ivy. They need to know how grateful you are to be my wife before I fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”
“Thank you for making me your wife.” The words come through gritted teeth. “It’s a great honor.”
Her hands curl into fists on her thighs. I can see her fighting the urge to tell me to fuck myself. I can also see her nipples are hard beneath her dress, and I already know her tight pussy is wet for me.
The audience is on the edge of their seats, waiting to see what comes next. This is what they came for—to see if another Sinclair man would cause a scene they’d talk about for months.
I unbuckle my belt while I stare at her face. The sound of leather sliding through the loops makes Ivy’s breath hitch. Her eyes drop to my hands, then back to my face.
“Open your mouth.”
She parts her lips, and I free my cock. Her eyes widen at the sight, and I catch a flicker of recognition. She remembers exactly how I stretched her that night. How she struggled to take me. How she choked and gagged . . . and begged for more.
I grip her jaw with one hand. “Fucking wider.”
She obeys, and I push my dick inside her mouth. The wet heat of her tongue makes my balls tighten. I don’t give her time to adjust. I thrust deeper until I hit the back of her throat.
She gags, her hands flying up to grip my thighs. Tears spring to her eyes as she struggles to breathe around my cock.
“That’s it.” I hold her in place, watching her throat work. “Any wife of mine will learn to swallow every fucking inch of her husband’s dick.”
I pull back just enough to let her gasp for air before I push in again. Her nails dig into my legs through my pants. Saliva drips down her chin as I fuck her mouth at a relentless pace.
My brothers are watching with interest, smirking at the display.
I fuck her mouth harder. Let them all see who controls Ivy Sinclair.
Ivy’s eyes are streaming now, mascara cutting dark lines down her cheeks. It’s exactly how I imagined her when she walked down that aisle.
“You’re doing so well for me, wife.” I brush a tear from her cheek with my thumb. “But we both know you can take more.”
I thrust deeper, and she gags hard, her body convulsing around me. Her fingers twist in the fabric of my pants as she fights to stay upright.
“Breathe through your nose.” I hold myself buried in her throat. “I’m going to train this pretty mouth to take my entire dick. Every morning. Every night. Until you can swallow me without a single fucking gag.”
She whimpers around me, and the vibration makes me even harder.
I pull out slowly, letting the crowd see the way her mouth chases after my dick. Ivy gasps for air, her chest heaving, her makeup ruined.
“Look at them.” I grip her chin and turn her face toward the audience. “Show them what a good little wife looks like.”
Her cheeks are wet, her lips are red and swollen, and she has never looked more beautiful.
I turn her face back to me. “Now finish what you started.”
She opens her mouth without being told, and I slide back inside. Her throat must be raw by now, but she takes me anyway. Her hands grip my thighs as she works her tongue along the underside of my cock, working hard to blow me.
“Fuck.” I fist her hair, holding her steady as I thrust into her mouth. “That’s my good girl.”
I don’t know how much longer I can last. Her throat constricts around me every time I push deep, and the wet sounds of her gagging fill the room. The Ravens are silent, watching, waiting.
I feel my orgasm approaching and I grip her hair tighter. “You’re going to swallow every drop. You understand me?”
She makes a sound that might be agreement, might be a moan. I don’t care which.
I thrust once more and hold myself buried in her throat as I come. Her body jerks, her nails digging into me as she struggles to swallow. I watch her throat work, taking everything I give her.
“All of it.” I keep my cock in her mouth until I feel her swallow the last of it. “Show me.”
I pull out and grip her jaw, tilting her head back. She opens her mouth, tongue out, proving she took every drop like a good wife should.
“That’s my girl.”
I release her jaw and tuck myself back into my pants. Ivy stays on her knees, chest heaving, makeup destroyed, saliva and tears dripping down her chin.
The room erupts in applause. The Ravens love their traditions, and I just gave them a show worth talking about.
I extend my hand to her. She stares at it for a moment, and I see the fire burning behind her ruined makeup. She’s furious and humiliated. But I know she wants me to fuck her, too.
She takes my hand, and I pull her to her feet. I lean in close, my lips brushing her ear. “That was just the preview, wife. I’m far from fucking done.”