“You know I am.” She says this without trying to hide the fear in her voice. It’s evident in the way her voice trembles, and the way she shakes beneath me.
“I’ll know.”
She only nods her head slightly while I continue to tear off her clothes. She has a little freckle in the center of her back, right where it dimples and her ass swells. My mother always said there was an Italian tradition that freckles on a baby’s body showed where the angels kissed. I bend my mouth to her lower back and give it a kiss. No angel better have kissed her there. This woman’s mine.
She gently arches her back to me when I kiss her, and I love the way she rises to me, even as she groans as if she’s fighting this, as if she hates me. I don’t fucking care if she does.
All that she’s wearing now are her bra and panties. They are simple white garments, which I quickly tear off of her. They fall to the floor in a heap with her dress. I spread her thighs open with my palms.
“Do you plan on destroying all of my clothing?”
“If it comes between me and you when I want you? Absolutely.”
When I tear her panties off, I can see the pink bloom of my handprint where I smacked her ass. I want to do so much more than that, imagining her over my knee screaming for mercy while I brand her with my palm.
I want to test her. I want to see how she naturally responds to being dominated. And I want her to know that she has no choice in this.
“You’re my wife, Elise,” I say in her ear. “And you belong to me.”
She pants, gently squirming, and her lips part.
How much of this does she like? We’ll soon find out.
CHAPTER 6
“So full of shapes is fancy.” ~ Twelfth Night, Shakespeare
“Elise”
I wish I could talk to Elise. I have so many questions for her, so many things to say. But she’d be horrified to know that I didn’t escape, and that I am actually married to this guy. At least on paper.
Not for long, though. God, not for long. I can’t believe I got tangled up in this.
I don’t know what the legality of it is, and I also know it doesn’t really matter if it’s legal or not, because the mob gets what the mob wants.
I am naked, lying flat on my belly, my head swimming from that wine that I downed like it was water when I was parched and starving. It is strong damn stuff, even though it’s good, but I’m not much of a drinker. So my head is all floaty and spinning. And I don’t know what the hell’s going on. But I do know that my husband… so he says… is pressing his huge, enormous, really sexy body on me, and he’s got kink on his mind.
What does that mean? I’ve never had anything like this before. He’s already smacked my ass. What else is he going to do?
I grab for the mattress, yanking the sheets between my fingers. They’re nice sheets, silky and soft with probably like a three thousand thread count or something. But he’s gonna ruin these sheets, I know it, just like he wrecked that gorgeous designer dress of mine, as if it were some kind of Halloween costume I bought on clearance. My God!
I am woozy and confused… and all kinds of aroused. I blame the wine. Maybe they make aphrodisiacal wine at his family vineyard. I wouldn’t put it past them.
“You know you vowed to obey me. We’ve gone over that. But you also know what’s expected of you, don’t you?” He gets his rocks off on this whole “in charge” thing. Obey, submit, yada yada yada. It’s the twenty-first century whether he wants to admit it or not.
I shake my head from side to side. “I mean, I’m starting to gather that you expect to be the head of the house and all that. Not exactly sure what that entails, but something tells me that you’re going to fill me in.”
“Did your father explain the expectation of children?”
Record screech.
What?
No.
My heart stands still. I don’t move. I don’t breathe. I swallow ice, it slithers into my chest and chills me. Children? No. No no no. I wouldn’t have children with a normal guy, never mind with this monster.
I’m not supposed to be here. And when they find out that I am not the person I’m supposed to be, they’re probably going to kill me. No, there’s no “probably” about it. Every one of those made men I met were packing weapons and were fully capable of pulling a fucking trigger. I’ve seen the dark sides of men, between Elise’s family and mine.
I can’t get a child mixed in with that. No.