MASSIMO
Father insisted on a big party after the wedding, which we’re three hours into. All I have wanted since the moment I kissed her in front of the altar is to get my wife alone.
Two weeks spent with her and unable to take her has been torture. I know she’s going to resist, and that only adds to my excitement.
Paisley sits by my side, picking at some wedding cake.
“I can’t wait to get you out of here, princess.”
She glares at me angrily. “I’d rather stay here for the rest of my life.”
I shake my head. “That’s not true.”
She huffs and leans forward, grabbing her glass of wine and knocking it back. “At least I can get drunk and hopefully I won’t remember anything by the morning.”
“No more alcohol.” I grab her wrist, forcing her to put the glass down. “I want to make sure you remember every detail in painstaking clarity.”
“Fuck you,” she says, yanking her wrist from my grasp.
I stand and grab her elbow, lifting her out of her chair. “Time to dance, baby.”
“I don’t want to dance.”
I raise a brow. “Do you think I care what you want?”
She blows out a breath and admits defeat, allowing me to drag her onto the dancefloor where a slow song I don’t recognize is playing.
I wrap my arms around her back, allowing them to rest just above her ass. “Put your arms around my neck.”
Her eyes narrow, but she does as she’s told. And then I lead her in the dance, gazing into those fiery green eyes that are flecked with amber. I’d never noticed things like that about people before, but Paisley is fast becoming an obsession that I can’t observe enough.
I find her fascinating. And that can’t be a bad sign for the start of a marriage, even if she hates my guts.
“You never told me why you wanted to marry me.”
I tilt my head. “Because I wanted you from the moment I saw you, and I always get what I want.”
“Cocky much?” she asks, shaking her head. “You mean you always take what you want?”
I spin her around to the music, yanking her body against mine. “Semantics.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re the most infuriating man I’ve ever met.”
“Good,” I say, bringing my lips to her ear. “As I love it when you’re angry, it’s so much more enjoyable.”
She tries to push me away, but I hold firm.
“Don’t push me away. Now that we’re married, you will do everything I say because that’s your role.”
“Pig,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s the most archaic bullshit I’ve ever heard.”
I tighten my grasp on her hips, knowing it will hurt.
Her lips purse in response.
“You listen to me, Paisley, and you listen well. I own you. The moment Axel agreed on our deal, you became my property.”
She tries to fight away from me. “They abolished the slave trade in the nineteenth century, if you forgot the 13th amendment.”
I smirk. “That doesn’t apply to me or my family, and you know it.” I spin her around again to the music, yanking her against me so hard the air whooshes out of her lungs. “We deal in flesh and I have no qualms in owning a person.” I tilt my head. “After all, isn’t everyone a slave to the system, anyway? Working to make a living and make ends meet their entire lives. No one is truly free in this world, Paisley.”
Her brow furrows as she contemplates the suggestion. “At least most people have a choice to quit their shitty job.”
“But do they?” I ask, smirking at her. “They have bills to pay, so what choice do they have but to continue slogging on, no matter what they want?” I move my lips over hers, kissing her only just. “Just treat being my wife like a job.”
“Right. And what exactly does my role entail?”
The music stops and I pull her off the dancefloor. “Pleasing me, just like you’d please your boss.”
She raises a brow.
“With the key difference, I subject you to take my cock daily, most likely multiple times a day.”
Her nose wrinkles in disgust. “You make me sick.”
“I’m sure you won’t be saying that when I’m buried inside of your eager, virgin pussy.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, drawing my gaze to her cleavage. “I’ve never met anyone so arrogant in all my life.”
A few of the guests hear her, brows furrowing as they gaze at us.