Well. That was certainly eventful.
Once the meal is concluded, it doesn’t take long for Sloane to escape the dining room in a huff of fury, a trail of flames laying in her wake. Ace lets her go, instead making polite conversation with Zia Maria.
They’re discussing which church to use. What colors the wedding will have. Who will be invited. Ace looks all too happy to let Zia Maria plan everything to the finest detail, grimacing at every suggestion.
I take the distraction to find my wayward fiancée, seeing her leaning against the wall for support. She’s so small and yet that dress is a beacon for me in the night.
Prowling over to her, I lean on my shoulder beside her, inhaling her delicious scent. I swear it torments me, lingering in my office even now a week later, of a reminder of the woman who has shattered my preconceptions and weaseled her way into my psyche.
“Plotting my death?”
She glares up at me. Those green eyes are full of hatred and fight. It draws me closer.
Ironic that she should hate me when I’m the one who was threatened upon entering this home. Twice.
Even now, with those blazing eyes, she’s working out something in her fascinating brain. She’s too spiteful to take this, too strong to allow it. My fiancée is planning something, I just don’t know what.
“Oh, I already know how to kill you. Just deciding when.”
I smirk at her candor. Not many people would feel so bold to speak to me in such a flippant way. “I prefer after our wedding. That way I’ll still get my wedding night.”
She shifts quickly, holding a serrated steak knife to my throat. I barely see her move. She must have taken it from the table.
She knew I’d corner her. Anticipated it.
I can’t help but appreciate her foresight. Just like I thought, her mind is probably the most dangerous thing about Sloane O’Brien.
“You’ll never touch me,” she hisses, jaw clenched. “Call off the wedding, Alessio.”
I chuckle, ignoring how much I love hearing my name on her lips. It sounds right, her tongue rolling over the syllables. Have I ever been this gone before, over a stranger? “Not after this. You know the way straight to my black little heart.”
She presses the knife into my throat with a sharp sting, causing me to laugh. She’s drawn blood, the little devil. It rolls down my throat, blending into the wine stained into my collar.
I had been expecting a reaction, but throwing a wine glass at a leader of a criminal organization? Sloane does not disappoint.
“What would you do, if I did, little menace?” My words rumble over her face. “What would you give me to end this contract?”
I step closer, daring her to do something. In true Sloane fashion, she doesn’t back down but carves the knife in deeper. I smile, knowing I’ll have a scar from my bride.
“What do you want?”
I suck on my bottom lip, looking down at her but not seeing anything past those ruby lips.
The hopeful look on her face almost makes me feel guilty when I whisper, “Nothing. I’m keeping you, Sloane.”
Just to hurt me, her wrist flicks upward, sawing through my skin as the pain spikes. But it can’t hinder my draw to her, the arousal at her nearness. It’s becoming clear that I’m becoming infatuated with my bride.
“You might have me because of a contract, but I’ll never be yours.”
“No?” I tilt my head. “I can think of a few ways to change your mind.” I let the heat in my gaze linger, using my hand to tilt her chin up. “Open your legs, menace, and I can show exactly how good it’ll feel to be mine.”
Those eyes darken, a taunt on her lips. “You couldn’t get me off, with both hands and a map.”
I reach, frustration overpowering my control as one hand grips her throat, the other curling around her hip. I yank her into my chest, feeling the puff of wine-soaked air on my face as we collide.
“Want me to show you? I could have you a quivering mess before you can call for a soldier for help.” My lips brush her ear. “You won’t remember your name by the time I’m done with you.”
Whether she knows it or not, she bites her lip and her thighs clench tightly. I can practically taste her on my tongue.
“Doesn’t change anything,” she defies. “I’ll never be yours.”
Laughing, my hand runs up her thigh, inching that criminally small skirt higher.
“Here’s why you’re wrong, menace,” I mumble, my words ghosting over her skin. The knife falters, enough for me to lean closer.
“Your Captain signed you over to me. A contract between our families. To be my bride. Which technically means you are mine.” I see the flare of anger in those eyes but keep pushing. “But that’s not why you’ll be mine.”
She inhales sharply as my gloved fingers dance over her upper thighs. It’s a shame I can’t feel her soft, supple skin.
“Then why?”
My tongue licks her ear, feeling her shudder with want. “Because, Sloane, there’s only one person here who can be your equal. Only one person who can handle your fire, give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Someone who can match wits with you, give you as much fight as you give out. And it’s not some man you’ll meet at a club. It’s me.”
I slam both of us into the wall, my hand bracing her head’s impact. My knee pins her one leg to the side, leaving her open for me. The knife falls to the ground.
“You think highly of yourself,” she parrots back to me, from a week ago. I love how she remembers our limited times together. “There aren’t many people who can handle me. Less who would be my equal.”
My nose brushes hers, my fingers drawing closer to the apex between her thighs. Long enough to give her time, to see if she’ll push me away.
“Because there’s only one person who is—me, Sloane.” My lips hover over her ruby colored ones and wait. “Now, tell me you don’t want this,” I whisper, my fingers pausing on the slip of fabric that covers her from me. I’m surprised she’s wearing any.
She scoffs. “I don’t want this.”
My finger slides along the fabric, knowing from years of wearing gloves, she’s soaked.
“You’re a liar, menace.”
My finger strokes again as her knees knock against me, pleasure spiraling from my touch. “You don’t know how badly you turned me on from your tantrum earlier. How you looked, ready to kill me, ready to take my life for tricking you.” It says a lot about me that someone threatening me is foreplay. My fingers explore, not giving her what she needs. “I wanted to bend you over that table, listen to you rage against me while I felt this body under me.”
At her sharp gasp, I chuckle. “Do you like knowing what I’d do to you? Let me tell you: I’d fuck you so thoroughly, until those doe eyes fell with tears from how many times you came on my cock. I’d ruin this makeup, ruin you, so all you’d know is me. So you’d only want me, menace. Then, I’d do something with this fiery mouth.”
Her breath stutters, chest heavy as my fingers play. “What?”
Leaning closer, my lips ghost over her cheek. “I’d shove my cock so deep down that throat, you wouldn’t be able to fight me or curse me out. And you’d enjoy every single fucking minute of it.” Pulling back, I look into those wide eyes, seeing her gulp against the desire my words invoked.
“Open your legs wider, menace. Let me have what’s mine.”
Her eyes narrow, daring me. She wants to resist, to fight me. I live for her fight.
I wretch her legs wider, using my weight to secure her.
Slipping under the soft lace again, I draw languid swipes over her seam, watching the struggle on her face. She wants to fight me, but her legs part further as if begging me for more. I oblige, as her eyes cut into me, hate and lust warring for dominance. She hates how her body betrays her. How easily it seems to want to submit to me.
How she sees, I am her equal. Intellectually. Sexually. In life. She hates it.
Sloane gasps as I part her. At how smoothly I slide one finger inside of her. She’s fucking soaked for it to be this easy. I hate how they bear me from feeling her completely, but this isn’t about me. It’s to show her how good we could be—how good I could be to her.
It didn’t take long for me to figure Sloane out. She wants the attention, she wants to be loved, and she needs someone to handle her brashness. To make her feel secure in her wrath and to be a place she can rage without consequences.
If I can show her that, she won’t try to leave me.
“Feel that, amore?” My fingers move in and out and the most adorable gasps leave her lips. Sounds I will hold on to and store away to remember in the middle of the night when I’m thinking of her. “Feel at how wet you are for me? How these fingers move in and out of your pussy, as if I own it?”
She licks her lips and my tongue follows, finally tasting that mouth. She tastes like red wine and sin. I bite her plump bottom lip, enjoying the groan of pain mixed with pleasure.
“Must be from something else.” She pants, but her hips move, seeking more. Wanting more friction. Dying for more. “Someone else.”
I laugh at her. She can’t deny this is for me.
“Liar.”
I don’t give it to her. She’s not in charge. I am.
I move my hand, and she whimpers as my thumb finds her clit. Her knees shake as I grind against that sensitive bundle of nerves, those beautiful eyes rolling into the back of her head. “I saw the billboard. Good work. But a bit bland. You’re going to have to try harder to get under my skin. To end this arrangement. If that’s what you still want.”
“Don’t worry. I have more tricks to try out.” Her mouth opens into an O, breaths heavy between us. Her nails claw into my forearm but she doesn’t stop me.
How would they feel, scratching my back, drawing her marks into me? Owning me the way I secretly want her to?
“I look forward to it.” My nose brushes her neck, and I inhale deeply, letting her scent wrap a hold around my heart. She smells like home. “Sloane, this is happening. No matter what you throw at me, fight with me, no matter how many times you draw blood, this is happening. You are mine.” I move my fingers faster, twisting to hit that spot that has her eyes fluttering, pink dusting her cheeks. Her legs tremble, and that delicious mouth pants harder, puffing air against my throat.
I grab her chin, forcing her eyes to watch me. “Oh no, little menace. Watch me own this pussy. Watch how it drips all over my hand, you’re making such a fucking mess for me.” My thumb rubs her clit, and her body clamps down hard on my fingers. “I will own every single inch of your body and heart, Sloane. So do your worst because you can’t escape me.”
My words are just the push she needs. She comes violently on my hand, and I barely react, closing my mouth over her shouts, swallowing them on my tongue. As much as I want to hear her explode, feel that fire erupt, I can’t have my family coming out here to see what is going on. This is between us only.
My tongue sweeps into her mouth, drawing out her moans, tasting that temper for myself. It’s devilish and pure heaven wrapped into one delicious gulp. Her tiny hands grab my lapels, holding me tight to her body, her supple curves cradling my hips just right. I nibble on her swollen bottom lip as the orgasm fades and retrieve my hand from under her skirt.
Her green eyes are bright, pleased, raking over my face, seeing me in a new light. But I see her annoyance at how easily she submitted. It’ll only make her fight harder. I can’t wait.
“I’m your equal in every way that matters, Sloane.”
I lick my fingers, tasting her. My cock kicks, and fuck, it’s an effort not to rip into her. To claim her in all the other ways.
She watches my tongue dart out, catching all of her release. Without thinking, I shove them into her mouth and she greedily takes them, leather and all. She tastes herself, enjoys it, and I have to hold back the urge to fall to my knees for this she-devil.
“Taste how good you are, Sloane.” My words are rough. “That is mine.”
I step back, fixing my cuffs. “Nothing you do will cause this to end, menace. So do your worse.”
