Arranged Mafia Marriage

Karma

I rub my cheek into the soft pillow and snuggle in. Warmth surrounds me, cocoons me, sinks into my body. I slide my hand across the mattress and the bed is so comfortable. My muscles are so relaxed, my entire body seems to be floating on some kind of cloud. Hmm. I try to turn and find something heavy around my waist holds me down. I try to pull away, and the weight around my middle intensifies. I crack open my eyes, glance down to find a thick arm about my waist. Huh? Thick fingers that lead to a wide wrist, which is attached to a sculpted forearm.

I manage to turn, enough to take in the tattoo of a knife on his tanned skin. It sports an intricate handle and the blade features a single eye. The blade points toward his fingers and the overall effect screams danger and caution. The corded muscles of his forearm wind up to massive biceps which are twice the size of my neck, at least, so it seems. I gulp, follow the arm to where it is attached to wide shoulders, a chest so broad that it blocks out everything else from my sight. A smattering of hair covers those sculpted pecs…which are demarcated by a white bandage that is taped vertically across his sternum. The contrast of the white against his darker skin is a shock. As is the fact that his chest is decorated with tattoos. Tattoos? Whoa, and there are so many of them.

I take in the design of a knife, the blade of which is painted with fire. Next to that is a design of a knife with the blade featuring roses. Then, another tattoo of a knife, with the blade featuring the sun; another one in which the blade is filled with stars; one in which a snake winds around the blade… Wow… And that’s just on the skin I can see. How many more knives does this man have inked on his skin? Why is he so obsessed with them? And P. S. How the hell did I get here? In his bed, with him wrapped around me like a boa constrictor around its prey. Ugh, why the hell did I have to come up with that comparison in my mind?

I tip my chin up, take in that thick hair that falls over his forehead. Those dark eyelashes that fan over his cheekbones, the hooked nose, that thin upper lip, the pouty lower lip, that square jaw of his… And have I told you about his lips? Full, dreamy lips that look so hard but are so soft to kiss.

Again… How the hell did I end up here, anyway? Once more, I try to move out from under his arm, and this time, he hauls me to his chest. “Stop struggling,” he rumbles, “I am trying to get some rest.”

“You are trying to get some rest?”

I stare at his relaxed features. He looks almost content… Asshole. He’d spirited me away from that stupid cell-not that I miss it, by the way… And also, that reminds me, I need to pee… I really have to pee; I wriggle my hips and something stabs into the valley between my butt cheeks.

It can’t be… Uh, it’s not…uh, his dick? Of course, it is… Bastard’s all aroused and I don’t think it’s only because of morning wood.

“Let go of me,” I hiss. “Honestly, how dare you bring me here?”

“Would you rather I’d left you in that cell?”

I still.

“Thought not.” His lips curl, “Best get your rest while you can, Beauty.”

“I will not.”

“Trust me, you are going to need it.”

“Oh, yeah, and for what might that be?”

The next moment I squeak as the world tilts. I gasp, then glance up into those deep blue eyes of his. His arms bracket me on either side of my head, and he manages to keep most of his weight off of me, except for his hips, which are flush against mine. His thick length stabs into the soft valley between my thighs, and I almost moan aloud at how good it feels. Oh, yeah, he’s naked under the covers. And so am I…for I can feel every thick, fat inch of his cock as it happily nestles against my core.

My belly quivers, my thighs clench, and my cunt…argh! My cunt seems to curl in on itself in anticipation. Down, stupid pussy, you don’t get to be this needy. He’s the monster who kidnapped you for revenge, remember? He forced you to marry him. And now he’s your husband. And I’m his wife, and uh…! Doesn’t that mean I have to indulge in certain wifely duties? My throat seems to dry up. I lick my lips and his gaze drops to my mouth.

Oh, my god, when he watches me with that single-minded intensity, I can forget that there is a world outside of this cocoon, which is composed of his body, his chest, his scent… His heat, that flows around me, pins me to the bed, the force of his dominance a low-pitched hum that sinks into my blood and coils straight down to my clit. I draw in a breath and he jerks his chin up. His gaze holds mine. Dark, deep, so many secrets and yet, underneath all that there is a vulnerability.

What the hell? This man has no weaknesses. Besides, any possible empathy he had for me is probably gone, now that I took a knife to him. Gah, what had I been thinking, with that pathetic attempt at trying to wound him? I should have known he was much too strong to be disabled that way. But I had gone with my instinct… And see where that got me? Under him…in his bed, surrounded by him. OMG.

I swallow, then slap my palms against his chest, “Let me the hell go.”

“No.”

“How the hell did you bring me here?”

“How do you think?”

“How the hell did you bring me here without my even realizing it?”

“It’s easy when you sleep like the dead.”

My cheeks heat. That much is true. I sleep like the proverbial log… Once I fall asleep, a bomb could go off next to me and I wouldn’t realize it. I purse my lips together, “Some of us sleep with a clear conscience, while others…” I scowl at him, “clearly, are haunted by the screams of those they have killed.”

His gaze intensifies. For a second, the expression on his face is bleak, then he nods, “That much is true.”

I blink. “It is?”

He nods. “I was twelve when I killed my first man. It was my father’s idea.”

“What do you mean?”NôvelDrama.Org: text © owner.

“He put a gun in my hands, told me it was time I became a man. He had his men drag out a traitor from among them, and-”

“It was your job to kill him?” I whisper.

He nods.

“And you did…kill him?”

He nods again, “One shot between the eyes.” He forms his fingers into the shape of a gun, places his forefinger and middle finger in the center of my forehead. “Boom.” He mimes pulling a trigger and I flinch.

He drags his fingers down my nose, across my lips, to the hollow at the base of my neck. My pulse rate speeds up as he swipes his fingers down to the already healing scratch between my breasts… The tiny wound that he had inflected on me with his knife.

“Does it hurt?”

I shake my head and he digs his fingers into the scratch, reopening it. A sliver of pain fires across my nerve-endings. I wince. He glances down and I follow his gaze to find the blood seeping down my belly. He removes his fingers, only to bend his head and slurp at the open wound. A shiver of something-lust, fear, maybe a mix of the two?-ladders up my spine. He licks the scratch again, then glances up at me, “Does that disgust you, Beauty?” He tilts his head, “Me drinking your blood.”

“No.” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “No.” I shake my head, “Strangely, I find it reassuring.”

“Reassuring?”

“It confirms to me that you are human, for some reason. It tells me that you don’t hide your proclivities. It…” I swallow, “it affirms that you don’t shy away from what your heart wants, and that… That is something.”

“Is it?”