Married to the mafia boss Series

CARMELA

Trapped.

I couldn’t escape him here. For the entire night, I had Michael’s undivided attention. He’d hired a sitter for the kids, and we’d headed straight for his bedroom. Heat tiptoed along my spine like a flame-tipped finger rolling down. The evening would end here, and there was no avoiding the moment we slipped into bed.

I had a lot of experience with sex.

Most of it wasn’t positive.

I sealed my fate once I said, “I do,” but my throat closed when I pictured sleeping with Michael. The safe guy, a man with a cloyingly sweet smile that dragged every woman in the vicinity to their knees. The one my sister had nudged in my direction.

I should’ve recognized the lie.

Michael used good manners and warmth like a shield that reflected suspicion. Everybody trusted him, my sister included. But the façade he worked so hard to maintain seemed to be gone, purged by his brother’s death.

Now there was a void.

I wiped my palms and disappeared in the bathroom, yanking the pins from my hair, shaking off the stupid flowers, and removing pearl drop earrings. I scrubbed off the pound of foundation. I needed out of this ridiculous dress, but I couldn’t reach the back.

“Carmela.”

Damn it.

I rejoined Michael in the bedroom, who watched me with a sour look. His fingers whitened on the glass. It hit the metal bar cart as he set the drink down. Then he approached, stopping inches away. His unflinching glare bored into me.

He wanted an apology.

He wouldn’t get one.

Michael said nothing, but he didn’t have to. My pulse throbbed as he lifted a strand of hair from my face. It slipped from him, and then he bunched my mane into a ponytail and swept it to my other side. Cold stung my neck as he unzipped, his knuckle grazing my skin. His command brushed my cheeks with heat.

“Take off your dress.”

I didn’t budge.

“Do what you want with me. Your words, right?”

I could’ve called him things I’d hurled at Nick-sick, twisted, cruel, broken. Michael was just like my ex-boyfriend. He took advantage of vulnerable women, except he’d find out I had no boundaries left to damage.

Nothing he did could hurt me.

I moved the straps from my shoulders. The delicate lace slid off my curves and pooled at my feet. Gooseflesh raised in rows across my arms as I wrapped myself, waiting for a degrading comment about my body.

He closed the distance between us, his waist nudging mine.

“Everything. Off.”

I unsnapped my bra and flung it aside. I treated my panties and heels with the same disregard, and then I imagined a shoreline. Blue was the calming color. It would fill my vision as he pushed me onto the bed and shoved himself inside me. I waited, expecting him to walk into the blue.

Michael didn’t move.

Why wasn’t he touching me? What was happening?

I shifted my attention to his tented slacks and cream button-up to his heated gaze. He wasn’t looking anywhere but my eyes, and that sent a shock down my spine.

Get on with it, you bastard. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my time.”

I didn’t want this dragged out. “Why?”

“I’m not interested in your fear. Just your submission.”

“You don’t have either.”

“When will you realize that you’ve won? Your father gets to live. You saved him. You’re married to me.”

I’d escaped Nick only to be tortured by another villain.

How was that winning? “That’s a punishment, not a reward.”

“You could’ve done a lot worse. The world is filled with terrible men.” Michael’s hand cupped my cheek. “But I’m not one of them. Far from it.”

His burning palm distracted me from the lie in his words.

“How can you say that, with your rap sheet?”

“I’m a rebel, not a monster.”

“Yeah, you’re up there with James Dean.” I shook my head, sighing. “You’ve been arrested for assault.”

“Who hasn’t?”

I snorted. “Me.”

“No shit? That’s surprising, given your reputation for ball-busting.”

Was this lighthearted banter supposed to put me at ease?

“I would kick yours, but that’ll just excite you, and I’m not into kicking a man’s nuts for his sexual gratification.”

“I like the way your mind works, but I’m not a masochist.”

“Right. You like hurting other people.”

“Don’t get it twisted, sweetheart. I don’t hurt women. I spank them. I fuck them. I leave them aching and wanting for more, and soon, you’ll know what that feels like.”

“I’m not attracted to you.”

“Are we pretending the last six months didn’t happen?” His bourbon eyes seemed to pull me closer as he spoke. “You wanted me, Carmela.”

“Your arrogance is staggering.”

“You dodged me every time I came around. At parties, holidays, your niece’s christening. You ran off after the service. I looked for you.”

I’d been overwhelmed with his attention, and I’d camped in my room like a fifteen-year-old. It wasn’t my style. When men were out of line, when they annoyed me, I told them off.

“I was under the weather.”

“Bullshit. You were hiding because I kissed your cheek.” Michael turned his head, his lips brushing my ear. “That’s called a crush.”

My face burned, and I jerked away. “I don’t have crushes, and even if I did, you’re not who I thought you were.”

“Never trust the guy who only smiles at you, Carmela.”

Good advice-given way too late.

I couldn’t stand talking to him. I’d been so transparent, and I hated that he rubbed it in. “Let’s get this over with.”

“No.”

I swallowed my shock. “No?”

My hair stood on end as Michael held my gaze, the silence suffocating and hot, like steam. He seemed comfortable, not at all in a hurry, so controlled.

“This isn’t like ripping off a Band-Aid. I fuck women because I need to, because they need me,” he said, his voice hardening. “A marriage with me doesn’t have to be hell.”

“I don’t believe you.”Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

“You will.”

Buttons unsnapped as he yanked off his shirt. The fabric tugged over his sculpted shoulders. Tight, corded muscle rippled across arms covered with dark hair. A mad impulse begged me to explore the broad panes of his chest and the slabs of strength defining his back. Two dimples begging for my mouth peeked above Michael’s slacks, which he unzipped and let fall, exposing muscular thighs and his briefs, tented with a massive erection. He kissed my cheek. “Stay.”

His warmth disappeared as he retreated to the nightstand. I froze, counting the fleur-de-lis on the wallpaper. Michael rummaged through the drawer and retrieved something that jangled. He returned with a small box wrapped in silver.

“Your second wedding gift.”

It probably wasn’t a bracelet.

He smirked as I pulled the bow. I sliced open the present, revealing a creamy band with a shiny buckle.

A collar.

He got me a fucking collar.

Shock rooted me to the ground as he swept my hair aside and bound the thick leather around my neck, slipping the straps through the buckle. I swallowed hard, fingering the metal loops. It wasn’t too bad-like a thicker-than-average choker necklace.

Still holding me, he pressed his body into mine.

“Come.”

Michael hooked a finger through a hook. He tugged, and I stumbled toward the mattress. He walked backward, his smile growing with rapturous delight. He ripped the sheets and slid into bed, leading me forward.

My palms flattened onto the satin as I crawled on all fours, my cheeks burning. I focused on the shimmery glaze of the white under my hands, and not my building humiliation, which burst into flames with Michael’s soft chuckle.

“Look at you, acting like the perfect submissive. And I thought you’d give me trouble.”

I was getting fucked whether or not I wanted it.

I’d been through this before. Fighting him would cause me pain, and sex with Michael wouldn’t kill me. Risking his anger might. I’d let him have me. He could toy with me all he wanted-I couldn’t be defiled.

He sat on his knees, touching me lightly.

I sank into the bed as Michael hovered above, apparently speechless. After a few moments, I couldn’t take it anymore. “What are you doing?”

“Drinking you in.” Michael lowered himself, planting a searing kiss on my brow. “You’re beautiful.”

“You said that already.”

“I meant it.”

Whatever.

He pulled back, holding a feather. He ran it through his fingers, the barbs pleating.

I eyed it warily. “What’s that for?”

“This.”

He lowered it to my mouth. Tiny sensations brushed me like wisps of a brisk wind. The softest strokes caressed my skin in winding paths. He followed my shoulders, the sensation tickling. Then it reached more intimate areas, and my pulse hammered.

“This has been on my mind for too long. What I want to do with you-how I’d make you come.”

He certainly was making me feel.

The feather swiped my breast. The tickle skated the curve, narrowing in tighter circles until stroking my nipple. Jolts struck me like lightning bolts. My nipple contracted, his antics feeding the fire I thought was forever doused.

It wasn’t supposed to be good.

I wanted to fade from my body, to disappear.

Michael made that impossible. Shutting my eyes kicked my arousal higher because I imagined his fingers instead. I gave up, looking at the ceiling, but he touched my jaw, and my attention snapped to his gorgeous face.

“You’re mine. I’m not letting you hide.”

My hands fisted the sheets. “Please.”

“Please, what?”

Stop.

Demanding that no longer made sense, because the agony I pictured didn’t match what he did to me. Nobody had ever given me pleasure-it was always taken. Taken without consent, until I had nothing to offer, just squeezing it from me.

“Please…what?” he prompted.

“I-I don’t know.”

Everything was confused, but Michael’s dimpled smirk suggested that he understood my dilemma.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he said in a tone filled with mock-concern. “Look at me.”

“No.”

“Scared of seeing something you like?”

My heart pounded as I met his slanted gaze, which was a mistake. I saw my desire reflected.

Michael seemed hell-bent on giving me ecstasy. He thumbed my lips, almost sinking through. The feather changed course, dipping south. He lowered himself, nuzzling my neck. Wet heat lashed me, and then he sucked.

I inhaled a sharp breath.

His smile pressed into my throat, the kisses becoming hungrier, wetter, hotter. He pushed into a spot that thrummed wildly with my pulse.

I shouldn’t enjoy this.

What the hell?

The feather teased in tantalizing circles, down my cleavage, and around the other breast. Wherever it swept, I ached. I craved more pressure-more of this lightning filling me with so much glorious warmth.

No, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

Pain and horror were all men like him knew how to give, and yet this was the opposite of everything I expected.

His ragged breathing brushed my skin. Michael grasped my hip, his grip smoothing into an intimate stroke that stole my air. He grabbed my ass.

I lay there, melting into the sheets. “What are you doing to me?”

“Making you ache for me, just like I promised.”

It was working.

The feather skated my abdomen, tracking my hips, sliding around my thigh like the lightest finger, teasing my legs apart. My hand flew to his chest unbidden. He leaned into me as he stroked my clit. A bolt of desire hit me, the jolt of pleasure tearing through me, the first strike of a brewing storm.

I arched into him, gasping.

“That’s right, baby. Just feel it.”

Michael tossed the feather aside. He swept his palm over my body, sending a dark thrill to my pussy. He found my clit and rubbed it in slow circles.

A whimper escaped my lips.

I was caught in a storm’s eye, surrounded by a whirlwind that blotted the sun. Michael was everywhere, and soon he’d be inside me, something that had terrified me moments before. Now I’d surrendered to him. There was no escape-no corner of my mind I could hide. I’d be aware of every thrust.

I slid up his pecs, raking through a sprinkling of hair shadowing his muscles. His pulse thundered under my touch. My gaze jumped to his flushed face, absent of arrogance. He seemed possessed by lust.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

His mouth scorched a path down my neck as his fingers moved faster. Arousal slicked my thighs, and he pressed harder, the pressure growing into a demand that begged to be released. He grazed my nipple. Liquid heat smothered me in toe-curling ecstasy as he nipped and sucked. Then he dipped into my pussy, gathering its wetness to my clit, not quite penetrating.

Animalistic noises burst from me. I fisted his brown locks, digging into his scalp with a force that seemed to encourage him. He sucked my nipple into a hardened point. Then turned his attention to the other breast.

“Jesus fuck.”

“He gets the credit?” he tutted, his voice measured. “So not fair.”

“Michael.”

His eyes fluttered, and he smiled, as though savoring the sound of his name. I watched him tongue me, unable to focus on anything but that searing image. Then he ripped away, leaving me in a horrible void.

No, no, no.

“I think you’re ready.”

Was I?

My heart felt like it was exploding.

Michael straightened, tugging his briefs off. My pulse raced as my gaze followed his muscled stomach to the shadow of hair leading to a long silhouette.

He was putting that in me?

My mouth dried as he gripped his cock and stroked. He pressed it into me. The head rubbed my aching clit, electricity ricocheting into my body.

“You’ re-you’re big.”

Dimples carved into his face. “Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you.”

He lowered himself, pushing inside me.

His weight bore on me. I bit my lip as the broad pressure filled me, the sting chased by warmth as he pulled back and inched forward. His nose touched mine as his strokes deepened, making my breath hitch.

“Don’t stop.”

I squeezed his shoulders, stunned by the confession I never meant to make. Michael’s chuckle tickled me before he claimed my mouth. Slow and sensual, like his rhythm. His lips fluttered on mine, sucking gently. He tasted like citrus and mint, fresh and lively.

I dragged him closer, deepening the kiss. His tongue swiped across, parting my lips. I groaned, and he chuckled. His pace picked up as he adjusted me, sinking in deep and fast. The sensation stabbed into my stomach. I couldn’t breathe. Desperate sounds escaped me that he swallowed.

His arms bound me in a vise grip as he pounded me. Michael’s guttural sighs sharpened into grunts. He yanked me, mouth crushing me as we dissolved into a frenzy. He fucked like he needed me, like his soul screamed to be inside of me as he rolled his hips and punched forward.

I clawed him, every stitch of skin burning for him. I jerked his hair. His lips devoured me in frantic strokes. His hand slipped between our bodies. Fingers pressed into my clit, lighting a fuse to my arousal. Suddenly he vanished, leaving me to throb with aching want as he pulled out, his warmth gone.

No.

Did I say that out loud?

Michael laughed, his smile ghosting my tits, my hips-

Oh my God.

He parted my thighs. His sigh billowed over my pussy before a slick heat stroked me. I melted as the towering furnace returned with a vengeance. His fingers dove into me, filling the void as he tongued my clit.

I turned into a bucking madwoman. He fucked me, my feelings building into a crescendo until he locked his mouth on me and sucked. Violent pressure tensed my abdominals as I orgasmed. I arched and convulsed. I cried out when he withdrew, but he returned a second later, his cock ramming into me.

He wrapped me in an embrace, our mouths crashing into each other as he thrust. I grabbed his face, pulling him closer. His tongue slashed me, and I tasted myself, greedy for more.

He pounded me without restraint, fucking with a reckless passion as he devoured my gasps. His kiss broke as he fought to catch his breath. He touched his damp forehead to mine, his sighs deepening to satisfied groans. Then he pulled out and sat back. Michael grasped himself, stroking fast. His expression smoothed from tension as he finished on my navel. His lips twitched into a relaxed grin. He dropped to his side and seemed to admire the view. Then he caught his shirt and wiped me.

Pleasure blanketed me like a sun-kissed glow. My eyes fluttered, all of me sore in the best way.

He hooked his finger through the collar. He tugged, and I yielded, too tired to resist. I trembled as I hovered over him.

“Lay down.”

Anger rippled through me, a sting puncturing my bubble of happiness. So far, I’d come when beckoned, heeled, and lay down. The only thing left was begging.

Humiliating.

The leather cut into my skin. My arms buckled, and I fell onto his chest. Heat bloomed between my thighs. The hills of his muscles molded into mine. The space between us heated to an inferno.

He adjusted me, his arm weighing on me like an anchor. His other hand yanked the sheets over our bodies. The fabric glided on my stomach and settled like a thin membrane. Then he stroked my hair.

I endured it, wide-eyed.

“Sleep.”

His last command boomed through my back.

He sounded halfway there already.

What just happened?

Poison replaced the fire in my veins.

He’d teased that orgasm out of me. He’d ravished me, lit my soul ablaze, owned me, and made me beg to prove a point. Worst of all, my body had betrayed my common sense.

I pictured myself sliding out from the hot cage of his embrace and stealing across the room. Taking to the streets naked, screaming. Going to the police with my collared neck. They’d believe anything I told them. Then Michael would use his connections to make every charge I filed disappear. My dad would suffer.

He believed he could dominate me.

He was wrong.

And this twisted game would be one he’d forever regret.