I don’t want to move. Everything hurts. My back aches, my feet throb, and between my legs is so sore I wince at the slightest shift.
I jerk awake as awareness flashes through me.
Fiero’s massive fingers wriggle deeper between my nether folds, and if it weren’t for his oversized shirt between us, his middle fingertip would sink into my pussy. He mumbles and curls tighter around my back, flexing his hand on my breast and rubbing his gigantic cock against my ass.
I can’t do this. He really is trying to kill me.
Even with the lust simmering in my veins, hatred and self-disgust curdle my stomach. I consider my options, then decide to act on impulse. I sink my nails into his wrists and yank his hands away from me before he fully wakes.
His entire body stiffens in a rush as he takes in our situation. He rolls until my face is in the pillows with his weight pinning me down and his hard-as-rock cock pressed between my ass cheeks.
“I don’t think that’s the right way to say good morning to your future husband, mia caramellina.”
His sleep-roughened voice rumbles into my bones and arrows straight to my traitorous clit, but his words triple my fury.
“No,” I snarl into the sheets and blindly search for a weapon, even though I know there are none.
“No what, amore mio?” he asks.
“You’re not my future husband. I won’t marry you,” I promise.
He chuckles, nips my nape, and thrusts his cock between my ass cheeks before rumbling into my ear.
“I wasn’t asking, mia caramellina.”
He roams his hands over my sides and lifts my shirt to expose my ass before reaching underneath me and grabbing my squished breasts. I hiss and buck, but he just chuckles and licks the side of my throat.
When he sucks the shell of my ear into his mouth and sneaks one hand between my legs, I bite back a gasp as electricity zaps from my clit to my core and spreads outward, sizzling all the way to my hair follicles and nail beds.
“Mio Dio, you’re already soaked for me, aren’t you, mia caramellina? Fucking hell, you’re perfect,” he growls.
As my body humiliates me yet again, something inside me snaps and all the fear and fury bottled up inside me bursts free.
“I should have stabbed you with that fucking fork yesterday. Either get off me or kill me. I’d rather die than—”
My words end on a strangled gasp of pain as he bites my shoulder—hard—and shoves three fingers into my sore pussy while he tightens his grip on my breast hard enough to bruise. I clench my thighs together and cling to the edge of my sanity as an orgasm threatens to barrel through me.
“I’ll do the stabbing, and it won’t end in blood. Are you ready to cream all over my cock again, mia caramellina?”
“Vaffanculo!” I swear into the pillows.
He chuckles and licks over his bite mark before removing his fingers from my pussy, lifting his hips, and burrowing his shaft between my thighs. I hiss as his flange bumps against my clit.
My embarrassingly wet, hard clit.
“You’re so fucking sweet to me, aren’t you, amore mio?” His sarcasm grates along my nerves as his shaft slips along my soaked folds. He drops his voice to a conspiratorial tone and nips the shell of my ear as he pinches my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Never change, my spicy little treat. One little taste and I’m already addicted. Mio Dio, keep wiggling just like that.”
He drops his knees to the mattress on either side of my legs and forces my thighs tighter together, increasing the friction as he thrusts his cock between my legs. When he reaches around and thrums his fingers over my clit in a demanding tattoo, I wedge my hand between us and try to shove him away, but he chuckles and lowers more of his weight onto my back. With one arm trapped underneath us, I reach back with my other and claw at his hip.
He nips and sucks my nape as he works his cock back and forth between my legs, never breeching my entrance but compressing my clit with every forward surge.
I tear at his flesh and buck. He flattens his palm over my mound and pulls my clit hood up with two fingers on either side, leaving the sensitive bundle of nerves exposed. Tension coils deep in my abdomen. The soaked sheet feels like sandpaper against my vulnerable clit.
“Cream all over my cock like a good little wife,” he murmurs into my ear.
He spears his shaft between my legs. The slick glide of his tip nudges my clit.
I shatter, coming so hard my core clenches and wetness gushes from me. I bite down on the sheets to muffle my scream and sink my nails into his flesh.
He jerks, curses, and pistons his hips at Mach 10, prolonging my orgasm. I’m too seized up to fight him when he weaves his fingers through mine and yanks my hand down between my legs.
I suck down a desperate breath before catapulting into another convulsion as he fills my palm with his release. His low grunts of satisfaction wriggle into my soul and fill me with feminine pride, and for a few shivering breaths, I bask in the unexpected moment of peace.
When he drops his forehead beside mine and gives my breast a squeeze before slipping his hand out from under me and propping his forearm beside my shoulder, I scold myself for letting my defenses down. His weight pressing down on me should feel constricting, not comforting.
“Your claws are as sharp as your teeth, aren’t they, mia caramellina?”
For a moment, his words make no sense, but then I register the sticky wetness covering both of my hands. With his spunk filling one palm and his blood oozing over my other, I realize I sunk my nails into the wound on his lower back.
Guilt tries to sneak into my heart, but he deserves it, so I curl my fingers deeper into his torn flesh.
He hisses and licks my temple. I turn my head, blocking him out with the mattress.
“We were made for each other, Mia.”
I stiffen as he uses my alias. With every passing moment, my conviction grows. I don’t think he knows my true identity.
I won’t be able to keep it a secret forever, and no matter how convincing I sounded when I demanded he kill me, I don’t want to die. I haven’t struggled so hard for so long to let him end my life.
“Let me protect you by giving you my last name,” he rumbles into my hair.
“Protect me from what? You’re the biggest danger.”
My voice comes out hoarse and my jaw aches as I speak, but my incredulity shines clearly in my tone.
“I took you to protect you. When you caught me in the alley, what did you see?”
I don’t want to have this conversation with his cock between my legs and his jizz in my hand, and I stand by my conviction to deny seeing anything, so I close my mouth and say nothing.
He sighs and scoops my hair into his fist before guiding my face toward his.
“Guess who I killed in that alley, amore mio.”
I clench my teeth and close my eyes, but he licks the bruise on my jaw with startling gentleness.
“I killed that man for you, mia caramellina,” he whispers against my cheek.
Despite my initial denial, the honesty in his tone convinces me to study him through my lashes.
“He mentioned you before I stabbed him.”
Understanding rushes through me, and I close my hands into fists, squishing his seed and aggravating his wound.
“You killed one of the gang members who came into the ER the night before and held me at gunpoint, didn’t you?”
Even with fissures of pleasure wracking my body, I choose my words carefully, purposefully using gang instead of mafia.
His fist tightens in my hair and he flexes his hips, nudging my hand with his tip.
“Fucking hell, I shouldn’t have killed him so quickly. I should’ve tortured him. Made him suffer.”
“What? Why?”
“He didn’t mention pointing a gun in your face. I wish I could kill him all over again for putting you through that.”
“Like what you’ve done is any better?”
“You know this is way better, mia caramellina. Trying to say it isn’t is a lie. You’re still alive now because of me, and you’re going to keep being alive because of me. Capisci?”
It’s the closest thing to a declaration of love I’ve ever received from a man. I don’t want it. I don’t trust him. He’s Seppi Capito’s brother.
“I still won’t marry you,” I say.
“You don’t have a choice. Marrying me is the only way you can leave this room again,” he responds.
Despite my better judgment, I ask, “Why?”
“Wives can’t snitch on their husbands.”
I can’t tell if he’s serious by his tone, and his expression gives nothing away. When I glare at him, he smirks and licks my bottom lip before wrapping his thick fingers around my wrist, but he doesn’t pull my claws out of his back.
“Men protect their wives. They’re untouchable. Sacred. No one will dare touch you once you’re mine.”
While I curl my lip in disgust, my soul yearns for what he offers. I’ve always had to be strong for me and my sister. When he fed and coddled me, he woke a needy, desperate part of me. And now she begs for attention.
He pulls me out of my thoughts by releasing my hair and brushing his fingertips over my scalp.
“But above all, you’re going to marry me because I want you. I’m addicted. I can’t get enough of you.”
The fierceness in his tone matches the intensity in his eyes, and my insides quiver at being the center of his attention.
“Even this,” he squeezes his hand around my wrist, indicating my nails in his wound, “the way you hurt and challenge me. I need more.”
“You’re insane. Certifiable. Get off me,” I demand through gritted teeth.
“Believe it or not, you aren’t the first person to call me crazy, but for you, I’ll admit it. I am. I’ll drag you kicking and screaming to the altar if I must.”
I clench my jaw and glare at him as I cling to my sanity by my fingernails. Emotions storm through me. Before I lose my grip, I separate my inner conflicts and shove them into their own tiny compartments in my mind. I’ll inspect them later. For now, all that matters is getting out of this room and warning my sister.
My muscles lock as I recall the mafia boss’s threats. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before looking deep into Fiero’s dark pupils.
“He said he’d come back for me. Are you going to kill him?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, and when he doesn’t immediately respond, my heart hardens.
“Eventually.”
His answer isn’t what I expected after his bold declarations, but I swallow my disappointment and lift my chin.
“What happens to me after that?” I ask.
“You’re mine, Mia Rivera. You’ll always be mine. I’ll be pinning you underneath me like this long after we turn old and grey.”
I scoff and sink my nails deeper into his wound.
“You really think you’ll live that long?”
“Mio Dio, I fucking hope so.”
The longing in his voice strikes a chord deep behind my sternum.
“I’ll always be looking for an escape.”
I don’t know what madness drives me to challenge him, but I can’t stop the words from escaping.
“We’ll see,” he murmurs with an infuriating smirk and a wicked glint in his eyes.
He nips my jaw before pulling my wrist away from his injury and rising from the bed. I roll onto my side, but his grip prevents me from going further.
He tucks his cock into his shorts and bites his bottom lip as he studies me from head to toe. With both hands covered in filth, I don’t move, preferring his eyes roaming over me instead of smearing his seed and blood over my flesh.
I hiss in annoyance and pull back when he leans down to pick me up.
“I can walk,” I snarl.
He eyes my feet and shakes his head.
“I know you can, but I like the way you feel in my arms, so don’t expect your feet to touch the ground anytime we’re alone. Capisci, mia caramellina?”
I huff in exasperation and decide this isn’t a battle worth fighting, but I relay my frustrations by glaring at him. He chuckles and scoops me into his arms before sauntering into the bathroom.
As he lowers me to the floor and crowds me against the sink, I grit my teeth and avoid our reflection.
I’ll marry Fiero Capito as Mia Rivera, but I must disappear before he realizes I’m Emma Lanza. Katherine and I will leave everything behind and start over with new identities. We’ll buy one-way plane tickets—with cash—to some random place overseas and never come back.
It’ll be hard as fuck, but this is the only way we can escape the mafia lifestyle.
A tiny, illogical part of me balks at the idea as Fiero cups his hands around mine in the sink. With warm water rushing over our entwined digits, he steals slivers of my heart with his shockingly tender care.
I swallow the lump in my throat and stare into the sink as his tattooed fingers stroke over my hands, cleaning me as though I’m a precious, fragile doll.
Somehow, I’ll slip out from under Fiero’s thumb with my sister before he discovers who I really am.
Even if it means leaving chunks of my heart behind with him.
