Arranged Mafia Marriage

I nod. “Most people go through life trying to ignore what they really are deep inside, but not you.” I peer into his face. “What you see is what you get with you. You wear your likes and dislikes on your sleeve; you don’t hesitate to declare what you want and go after it. You are brutally honest about your intentions, and for that, I am grateful.”

“You are, huh?” he says in a strange tone. “I kidnapped you, Beauty. Held you to the marriage that your father had promised me.”

“And I stabbed you for it.”

“I locked you up in a cell as punishment. I withheld orgasms from you-”

“It’s called edging,” I murmur.

“I’m aware.” His eyebrows rise, “Though I am not sure how a nineteen-year-old fashion designer whose claim to fame is hawking her clothes-”

“Designs.” I scowl, “Thought I corrected you on that already.”

“-at a flea market-”

“Camden Market is a world-renowned space for artists,” I counter.

“-knows the term for an S & M technique, is something I am keen to find out more about.”

“It’s just…stuff I picked up along the way.”

“Is that right?”

I nod, “Just like you learned everything about knives… Let’s just say, I read up a lot of informative literature about BDSM.”

“You did, huh?”

I bite the inside of my lip. “For example, I know that you like to indulge in knife play.”

“Oh?”

“And blood play.”

“Hmm.” He tilts his head, “Tell me more about my depraved, filthy tastes, Beauty.”

“What if I told you that I have always wanted to know how it would feel to be at the receiving ends of both of those?”

“I wouldn’t think you meant it.”

“And what if I said I do?” I tip up my chin.

“Then I would call you a liar.”

“Why would you say that?” I frown.

“Because you don’t know what you are talking about. You don’t know what you really want.”

“And I won’t know, either. Until I try it.” I set my lips.

“And what if it’s too painful for you?”

“What if it’s exactly what I was waiting for? What if that’s why you were attracted to me in the first place? Because you saw me and knew that I was the kind of woman who you wanted to tie up, and deny orgasms, and use your special talents to get me to submit?”

“What if all of this is just you trying to pull a fast one on me?

I blink. My heart begins to race. “Wh…why would you say that?” I flutter my eyelashes. “Haven’t I fought you every step of the way? Am I not the one who stabbed you?”

“And then you decided to bring yourself to the brink of orgasm not once, but twice, in front of the cameras, knowing full-well I would be watching.”

“Did you like it?” I breathe. Shit, what the hell am I doing? Pretending to be all worldly-wise and knowing what I am doing, and trying to beard the lion in his den…or in this case, in his bed. “Did you?” I hold his gaze.

“And if I say I did?”

“Then I’d reply that it doesn’t matter what my motives are. I am here, aren’t I? Willing and ready to do as you command.”

“You think you can throw the right words at me and get me to do what you want?”

“Am I succeeding?”Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

“No.”

“Oh…” I pretend to pout, “So then, why are we still talking?”

“My point exactly.”

He pushes off from the bed, stands over to me, only to lean down, then swing me up and over his shoulder.

“Put me down.”

He doesn’t answer. He marches to the bathroom, shoulders his way past the door, then heads for the toilet and places me on the seat.

He stands above me and I blink. “What the hell are you up to?”

“You needed to pee.”

“Says who?”

He raises an eyebrow and I flush.

“So, what if I do? I could have walked here on my own.”

“I carried you instead; deal with it.”

“And how did you know that I had to, you know-”

“Urinate?” He smirks. “You can say it. It’s a bodily function, just like fucking. Or would you prefer if I said fornicating?”

I scowl, “If you think you can throw clinical words my way to fluster me, then you are sadly mistaken.”

“Good.” His grin widens. He widens his stance and I don’t dare look straight ahead…because, uh! I am at the exact same height as his big, fat dick, that I know is standing to attention against his belly right now. Yeah, okay, I peeked. I couldn’t help it. It’s right there in front of me. Also, since we had woken up, he had pressed that monster shaft against me, so I am well familiar with its length and its-gulp-girth, which is bloody impressive, I’ll have you know.

“What are you doing still standing here?” I murmur. “I need to urinate.”

“So go.”I gape at his smirking face. “Not in front of you.”

He folds his arms across his chest, and his stance indicates…he’s not moving. Okay, whatever, like I care if he sees me pee.

I close my eyes, try to relax…but hell, I can’t go. Not when Mr. Monster Cock is standing over me like Satan himself.

“Turn your back,” I say through gritted teeth, “else I won’t be able to.”

I sense him hesitate, then feel the slight breeze as he pivots around. To my surprise, I hear him move away. I open my eyes, and sure enough, the space is empty. I sigh as I settle into place, and almost instantly, my muscles relax enough so I can let go. I finish my business, flush, wash my hands and face, smooth my hair the best I can, then hesitate. I take in my naked body, so very pale, except for the thin streak of red in between my breasts.

In a way, we match, I suppose. Only, the wound I bestowed on him is much deeper. I raise my hand to touch the scratch and the ring on my finger catches my attention. It picks up the color from my dyed red hair, and damn it… It really does feel like it’s already part of me.

Why does he have to be so…so perceptive. Speaking of… I spin around, head for the door. “How did you know that I had to pee?” I demand. “I never told you that I wanted to.”

Alphahole finishes stepping into his gray sweatpants, then turns around. “I guessed.”

“You guessed?” I scowl. “How could you just guess?”

“It’s morning.” He shrugs. “It’s natural to want to use the facilities after a night’s sleep.” He grabs a bathrobe, then walks over to me and holds it out.

I stare at it, then up at him. “Shit,” I blink, “you removed my clothes last night…”

“You only just realized that?”

“No, I mean, yes, I mean…” I shove my hair over my shoulder. I must have really been out of, it if I hadn’t even stirred when he’d undressed me.

“Your dress is safe. I’ve asked for it to be cleaned.”

“Oh?” I blink rapidly at him. That’s thoughtful of him. Though why would he do that? Why is he being so nice to me?

“Relax,” he laughs, “I know how much your creations mean to you and that dress was so you… That I figured you’d want to keep it, and maybe, modify it and wear it again.”

My mouth drops open. That’s exactly what I had planned to do, but how the hell is he able to read me so easily?

“Fine, fine,” I grouse. “It’s what most women do-adapt their wedding dresses so they can wear them again.”

“Is it?” He frowns, then raises a shoulder, “Good guess, huh?” He jerks his chin toward the dressing gown, and I slide my arms through the sleeves. I knot the tie around the middle as he runs his palms down the shoulders, in a gesture that is both soothing and possessive. Huh. What the hell is this man up to? I turn around and scowl at him, “Out with it, Mister. What are you planning now?”

“Breakfast?” He smirks. “Do you like pancakes?”