Arranged Mafia Marriage

Aurora

“Fuck you,” I yell over my shoulder as I slide aside to evade him. I run into the hallway, turning to look behind me, then scream again when I find him right there.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I race into the hallway and toward the front door. Am I actually going to do this? Run out into the cold and dark again to evade him. And if I don’t? He’ll catch me. Hell, he’s going to get his hands on me anyway, and damn, if I’m going to make it easy for him. I leap toward the front door, grab hold of the door handle with my bound hands, and twist it. That’s when a heavy hand descends on my waist.

“Let me go,” I yell as he snatches me up and throws me over his shoulder. “Let me the hell go.” I lock my fingers together and bury my fists into his back, but he doesn’t even flinch. He simply turns around and marches into the living room.

Anger thuds at my temples. I wriggle in his grasp, try to kick out, but he tightens his hold around my thighs. I raise my hands, and crash them down into his side.

His muscles tense. His shoulders go solid. Then his heavy palm connects with my butt. C-r-a-c-k.

I freeze. Not only did he catch me before I could make it out the door, but he’s spanking me? Anger crowds my mind. I squirm around in his grasp and-c-r-a-c-k, c-r-a-c-k-this time he spanks me on each butt cheek, then again. The pain coils in my belly and arrows straight to my core. My pussy clenches, my toes curl, and the flicker of lust that shoots through my veins is so intense that I freeze.

He takes advantage of my temporary acquiescence and marches into the living room. He throws me down on the settee. I spring up to my feet and brush past him. I’ve only taken a few steps before he grabs my arm and pulls me toward him. Once more, he pushes me down onto the settee. My hair pours over my face, and I shake it back. “What the hell?” I yell. “What’s wrong with you? If this is your idea of playing a game?”

“No game,” he growls as he grabs the lapels of my shirt and tugs. The buttons go flying, then ping across the floor.

“What the hell! That’s the only shirt I have here, asshole-” I gaze up at him in shock, anger, and damn it, also arousal. My thighs quiver, and my chest hurts with the sensations that coil against my ribcage.

He thrusts his face into mine as he pushes against my shoulders. I fall back against the settee, and he plants his hands on either side of my face. “Do you still want to run?”

“Always,” I snarl back.

“Try it then, Flower.” he bares his teeth, and a shiver grips me.

I raise my hands, flatten them against his chest and push, and heave, and strain, but he doesn’t budge, not one inch.

“Cute.” He smirks. “That all you’ve got for me?”

A hot sensation stabs at my chest. My vision tunnels. I bend my knee, then plant it in his groin.

His features crumple, and the breath whooshes out of him. But does he move? Nope, of course, not.

He shakes his head as if to clear it, then glares at me. He lowers his voice to a hush. “You shouldn’t have done that.” All of my senses pop, and my nerve endings all seem to fire at once.

“L … let me go,” I whisper.

“No,” he snaps.

“Please,” I beg, “please don’t do this.”

“You knew the stakes when you entered into this relationship.” His lips widen in the semblance of a smile that is not one. It’s a proclamation of intent, of what he’s going to do to me.

Moisture beads my core, and my throat dries. “No,” I whisper.

“Yes,” he says in a hard voice. A shiver runs up my spine. The pores on my skin pop. He reaches behind, grabs his shirt, and pulls it off.Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

I take in the tattoo of a coiled snake that covers his chest and the bicep of his left arm; it flows down to disappear under the waistband of his pants, and I know that more tattoos cover both of his thighs. I have seen them before, but not had the chance to pay such close attention to them. In between the coils are a chrysanthemum, a peacock feather, an anchor, a weeping Virgin Mary, a scorpion… I also spot ‘Xander’ scrawled on the right side of his chest, over his pec with the dates of what must be his birth and his death. There are more objects that I can’t make out. I know the tattoos cover his back as well; all of the designs are in black ink. His entire body is a tapestry; almost every inch of his torso is covered. All except for a space over his heart. But I can’t ask him about that. He straightens, grabs one wrist of mine, then the other.

My body trembles in anticipation, and hell, if that doesn’t make me angry. I’ve only spent a few days with him, and damn, if he hasn’t already trained me to enjoy his kinks. Anger jolts through me. I pull back both of my knees and plant my heels on his chest. The hard plane of his chest digs into my soles as I push.

He huffs out a breath, and his feature break into a delighted smile. “That’s it, Flower,” he croons. “Fight me; fight for what you want from me.”

“I want you to get off of me.”

“Liar.” He smirks, then reaches over for the length of a satin ribbon from the sewing basket. I draw in a breath, then push against his chest with all my might. He laughs as he begins to wind the ribbon around my wrists.

The slither of the satin against my skin sends goose bumps trailing across my body. My belly shudders, my sex quivers, and moisture drips down my inner thigh. His nostrils flare, and I know the asshole has smelled my arousal.

Bloody hell. If I stay here for a second longer, I’m going to be parting my legs and inviting him to take me. And I want it. I want him to bury his thick, hard, wide cock inside me and stretch me, and yet… I don’t want to give in, not yet. I will not make it easy for you, alphahole.

I grit my teeth, tighten all of my muscles, and throw everything I have behind it as I push.

He pauses, blinks, then barks out an exuberant laugh. “More.” He bares his teeth. “Do that again, Flower. It makes for a hell of a massage.”

“Argh,” I make a sound deep in my throat as I pull up my knees, then plant my feet on his chest again and again and again.

He smirks.

I snarl and lower my feet to the ground.

“Giving up so soon?” His lips curl.

I allow my lips to curve. “Come closer,” I murmur. “I have something to confess.”

“You do?”

I nod. “Come on, baby, don’t you want to hear what I have to say?”

His smile widens. He leans in closer, and that’s when I rear up and snap my neck forward. My head connects with his nose. I hear the crunch of cartilage. The next moment blood drips down between us.

I lean back, my breath coming in pants, and glance up to find his lips twisted, nostrils flared, blood flowing down his mouth to splatter on his chest. His gaze widens as if he can’t believe what I just did. Then a growl rumbles up his chest. Those blue eyes glint with intention, and something deep in their depths seems to catch fire. He seems both shocked and angry, and something more. Something very much like arousal.

“Don’t-” I open my mouth. That’s when he closes the distance between us and smashes his mouth to mine.