She freezes. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would.”
“But…that’s making the opposite of your point. You don’t want others to see my ass but you’re willing to publicly spank me on the bare?”
“If you insist on showing off what’s only mine, I’ll allow it. But on my terms. With your curves over my lap on the sundeck, being striped by my belt. All eyes on you. The choice is yours.”
Her limbs freeze. She quiet, thinking. Deciding if she’s going to obey, or try me.
She chooses obedience. “Fine.”
“Good girl. But lose the sass.” I splay my hand on her pink ass, letting it rest there while I wait for my answer.
“Fine.”
I give her ass a pat. “You mean, yes sir, please punish me in the privacy of our room?”
She heaves a little sigh of surrender. “Please. Punish me here.”
I let her go.
She stands. As she does, the top I’ve untied flutters to the floor. She brings her hands to her bare breasts, trying to hide them from my sight.
I grab her hand to stop her. “No. Let me see.”
She stands, her face as pink as her ass, hand at her sides, shame in her eyes, as she watches me take her in.
Her breasts have a faint line of tan around them, making white triangles on her creamy skin. Her pink nipples stand proud. Wanting.
The bikini bottoms slide to the floor. She steps out of them, leaving them on the carpet. Holding my gaze, she crawls over the bed. Bends at the waist, her ass rising in the air over the edge. Slowly lays her upper body down on the bed next to me. Giving me a show.
Saucy little minx.
Leaving the bed, I stand behind her. Enjoy the tension in her muscles at the sound of my unbuckling belt. The timid glance over her shoulder at the swoosh of the leather as it leaves the loops of my trousers.
I fold the belt in half, raise it in the air, and bring it down across the lower curve of her ass. She gives a cry that makes my cock harden in my trousers. A red line rises on her skin.
Marking what’s mine.
I raise the belt, bringing it down again, this stripe just above the last. Then one more, just below it.
She’s shrieking like a cat when I slide the belt over her ass. “I’m sorry, okay! I get it! No more bikinis.”
She’s had enough. She’s learned her lesson.
I grab her hand, tugging her body from the bed. She trips behind me as I pull her across the room. Holding her shoulders, I face her toward me. “No more anything that shows the places I’ve marked. Look over your shoulder.”
She turns, seeing her reflection in the full length mirror I’ve brought her to. My handprint, lines from my belt, have reddened the lower parts of her curves, skin not covered by her skimpy suit.
She sniffs. “Thanks for the visual.”
“Still sassy? Need another taste of my belt?” I grab her upper arm, ready to take her back to the bed for more.
She shakes her head, bites her lip. “No. Sir.”
Her soft words have my cock straining uncomfortably against the restriction of my pants. I have to have her.
Now.
9
Felicity
I should slap him. Scream at him. Tell him to go to hell.
Instead, I find the warmth from my ass creeping between my thighs, my pussy damp with arousal.
I love how jealous he is, how possessive he is of my body. The way he doesn’t want another man to lay eyes on me.
It fucking turns me on.
And I fucking loved the leather of his belt biting into my flesh.
I stare in the mirror and I love his marks on my skin.
He grabs me, pulling me into him. One hand smooths down my naked back, sliding over the hot flesh of my ass where he’s punished me.
The other slips between my thighs. “My Bella. So wet for me.”
And his mouth is on mine. Kissing me, hard, as his fingers clutch my ass, adding to the burn that’s already there.
His tongue invades my mouth as he sinks a finger inside of me.
He gives my ass a hard slap.
Tugs me over to an upholstered, armless chair. He slides into it, eyeing me hungrily as he undoes his pants, freeing his cock.
It stands, hard and ready, the head glistening eagerly. He flashes me a wicked grin. “Have a seat, my princess.”
I hover for a moment, my soul as bare as my body. He grabs my hand, gives me a tug.
He’s in no mood to wait.
Grabbing the back of the chair, one hand on either side above his shoulders, I straddle his lap. His hands go to my ass, pulling me closer.
They move to my hips, digging into my flesh. Guiding my slick, ready entrance over his cock.
He brings me down with one, hard pull.
“Ah!” My head lolls back, my eyes closing as I sit on his cock. It fills me, stretching me to accommodate its full length and girth.
He cups my breasts, kissing the tops of them. In between kisses, he murmurs, “My Bella. The beautiful breasts of my Bella. For my eyes only.”
When he pulls away, and meets my eyes, there’s a flash of wickedness in his pupils. I look down to find purple marks, bruises made by his lips, along the top swell of my breasts.
“Vincent!” I swat at his shoulder. I want to chastise him further, but my words are lost as he raises his hips, burying his cock further inside of me. “Oh, my. God.”
I’m on top. I’m the one in control.
Right?
Wrong.
He grabs my hips, bucking against me. In and out, up and down, harder and faster until all I can do is sit there like a limp ragdoll, all my attentions focused on the brutal pounding inside my core.
I lean my head down, resting my forehead on his shoulder, biting the collar of his shirt to hold in my screams.
My fingers wrap tighter around the wood frame of the top of the chair, my palms beginning to sweat as I hold on for dear life. My breasts are sore where he’s marked my flesh. My ass stings from the spanking as it slaps against his thighs.
“Take me, Bella. Take all of me.”
My pussy clenches around his cock, taking the friction, the pounding. My core tightens, a powerful orgasm building at his command.
“Now, come.”
His growl is an order. One I will obey.
My head flies back. A deep moan escapes me. I clamp down on his member and come, hard, a burst of light flashing behind my shut tight lids.
But he doesn’t relent.
He keeps fucking me.
I come again, my body tightening around his, then releasing.
His hands go to my shoulders, pressing my body down, harder onto his cock. He gives his own moan of victory and I feel his body tense, I feel his hot seed burst into me.
I collapse against him, shuddering. He smooths his hands over my back. “Bella, my Bella.”
I kiss him, his fingers combing my damp hair back from my face. When I pull away, he cups my face in his hands.
“Now, go find something more appropriate to wear.”
After cleaning up, I dig through the suitcase Sophia and Esme packed for me back at the castle. I toss suit after suit to the side.
Nothing will completely cover the red marks that are surely still angry and red across my ass.
In the very bottom of the case, I find a modest, vintage style one-piece. It has a high neckline and a ruffled skirt attached to it.
Definitely Sophia’s doing. She’s old fashioned and a firm believer in modest clothing. I’ve heard her muttering all over this island about how indecently the Beauties dress.
Vincent bought all my clothing, but Sophia did all my packing. I’ve no doubt she picked this little number from my closet.
It’s my only choice. Hastily, I try it on. Do a little twirl in the mirror. Huh. Not bad.
A little shy, I step out of the bathroom. Vincent sits, waiting for me on the chair we just fucked on, the smooth tanned muscles of his chest
bare beneath his unbuttoned linen shirt.
“Ah. The red one. I had fun picking that out for you.”
“How did you know my size, before I came? How did you manage to buy all these clothes for me—"
“You know I have armies of people. Now, let’s go enjoy the sun. You look lovely.”
He stands. I walk over to join him, linking my arm with his. Just as we walk over the threshold of our room, he reaches over, flipping up the skirt of the suit.
Taking a peek at my red ass.
“Beautiful.” He gives me a wink that makes my chest warm. “And all mine.”
We spend the day jumping off the side of the yacht. Swimming in the turquoise waters. Sipping champagne and dining on fresh seafoods and salads.
My only worry is keeping my skirt in place, so no one gets a look at the stripes on my punished ass.
The day is perfection. I fall into bed that night, my skin sun-kissed, my belly full, my limbs tired. As Vincent sleeps beside me, I think of how full my life has become. Travel to exciting places, elaborate dinners and parties, meeting interesting people.
And I’m never alone.
Vincent, Sophia, and Esme feel like family.
Until now, I didn’t realize how bored and lonely I’d become, spending every waking moment working the store, my only company my father and his old man friends who’d play checkers with him in the back storeroom. How I longed for travel, for new experiences.
Tomorrow, back to the castle.
Back home.
My home.
I’m eager to be back to the place I belong. Still, the following morning, I find it difficult to say goodbye to the Parrish, especially to Hannah. She’s down to earth and kind, with a dry sense of humor.
I promise the Beauties I’ll be back.
I don’t miss the goodbye kiss Esme plants on Alec’s cheek. Or the rage I see in Vincent at the gesture. I’ll have a chat with Esme about discretion, and kissing boys.
After an easy flight, we arrive in Italy. Our car takes us back to the castle. We drive right through the village, past my father’s store.
I say nothing, but watch with happy eyes. The red and white awning has been changed out with a fresh one. The hanging letters of the store name have been replaced with shiny new black ones.
There’s a line clear out to the sidewalk.
Vincent’s doing?
He’s seated beside me and I give him a glance, but he’s busy reading something on his phone. I go to look away and just catch the smallest of smiles on his face from the side of my gaze.
Of course it was him.
I blow my father a kiss as we pass by. Then, I lean over and kiss Vincent’s cheek. “Thank you.”
When we reach our drive and the castle comes into view, my breath catches in my chest.
It’s beautiful, and every time I see it, I will remember just how lucky I am to live here.
Coming back here, now, is nothing like when I’d first arrived, being whisked from my father’s store in a storm cloud of rage and tears. With Esme and Sophia by my side, and Vincent leading me toward the big wooden doors, I know I’m where I’m supposed to be.
Something changed on this trip. A monumental shift occurred between us. An awakening of who he truly is, who I am.
And now, I only feel complete when I am with him.
It makes my mind spin, my heart dizzy, if I dwell on the suddenness of the change too long.
So I don’t.
Servants open the doors for us as we climb the wide stone staircase. Vincent pauses as we reach the top. I look up at him, curious as to why he stands there, staring at me. An almost smile plays on his lips.
He reaches out and swoops me up into his arms. “I guess that was our honeymoon, so I must properly carry my bride over the threshold of our home on our return.”
A surprised laugh bubbles up in my chest at his lightness, his happiness. I wind my arms around his neck as he carries me over the threshold into the castle.
He sets me down gently on my feet, leaving me with a soft, parting kiss. “I’ve got to go to work and check in with my men. I hate being away and out of control even for a moment.”
I give a laugh. “You? Not liking being out of control? Never.”
He gives my ass a playful swat. “You have work of your own to do, wife.”
“What’s that?”
“I want you to decorate this castle. It needs a woman’s touch. And now that you are the queen of the house, it falls to you. It should be in your style.”
“Style?” I think of my father’s sparse home. No money for frivolities. The most beautiful thing we owned was the vase Vincent gave me. “I’m afraid I don’t have the first idea how to decorate.”
“You’ll learn. And if you don’t, then Esme will finally have her way.” He gives a nod gesturing over my shoulder.
Behind me, Esme stands with her hands clasped, her dark eyes wide and shining. “Oh please, Felicity. Let me help you! I’ve been telling him for years we need some pretty things around here. Soft pink walls and flowers and gold gilded mirrors.”
I give a laugh at Esme’s eagerness. “You can help. But no pink. I can’t picture Vincent in a pink house.”
“Come with me.” Esme grabs my hand pulling me in the direction of the hall. “I have so many ideas for the Great Hall.”
We leave Vincent. A smile playing at his lips. A wistful look in his eyes.
The next few days pass like hours, they’re so full of festivities, decorating. Esme has me redoing every room, ordering plush carpets from Portugal, floral patterned china from England. Soft landscape paintings from local artists.
Vincent is busy during the day with his work, leaving me to familiarize myself with the running of the home. We have servants, gardeners, drivers. All of whom Sophia keeps a steady eye on.
But I sense her fatigue. I send her to nap in her floral armchair in a sunny corner of the library in the afternoons. Take her tea when she wakes.
I can remove the burden from her shoulders. I just need time to learn it all. And I have a happy helper in Esme.
No matter how much business Vincent has to attend to, he makes time to dine with me every evening. We sit across from one another, candles lit between us. He listens when I speak of my day. Thanks me for what I’ve done.
There’s a happy peace between us. One that turns to a deep well of desire as the moon rises in the sky.
We’ve yet to fall asleep together in the same bed since our trip.
But every night I find him crawling into my bed after midnight. Or, if he doesn’t, I enter his room at the break of day. We hold onto one another, rocking our bodies together until we are calling each other’s names. Then, we fall asleep, satiated.
Though we’ve found this new peace, this way of being, he’s still the one in charge.
He shows me, every day, in little ways.
What I wear, what I say, how I respond to him—these are all things up for his correction. His hand, his belt, they find my ass. His grasp cups my chin. His harsh words tell me of his displeasure.
And every time, every single time, I submit to him.
I tell him, Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I understand, sir.
My pussy getting slicker with each exchange.
He’s mastered my body, owns my pleasure, has earned my submission.
And now, I am fully his.
When he passes me in the hall, patting my ass, I warm.
When he calls my full name, raising his brow, Felicity Russo, I find myself relenting, behaving, and trembling with desire.
When he takes me, hard and fast until pain melds with pleasure and I can no longer decipher the difference between the two, I become who I was born to be.
Felicity. Russo.
The queen of the castle. The wife of the king.
Willingly, his plaything.
When I walk through the halls, commanding the staff (gently), I feel I’ve finally come into my own. When I ride the waves of pleasure ben
eath his body, I feel I’ve found myself.
Everything is almost perfect.
Only one thing is missing.
My father.
I choose this evening, when the staff are serving his favorite, filet mignon, to broach the subject of me going to the village for a visit.
I pour him a generous glass of his beloved Merlot. “Vincent, I’ve been thinking. I’d like to go to the village. To visit the people. My father.”
He holds his glass in the air, pausing mid-sip. He puts the glass down. Dabs his mouth with his napkin. Focuses his dark eyes on mine. “Absolutely not.”
His voice is cold. Commanding.
My spine stiffens. “Why not?”
“It’s not safe.”
“Send your men with me.”
“No.”
“Then…let my father come here.”
“Fine. But he comes alone.” My husband’s raised brows end the conversation.
And I understand. This is love, to him, a battle. And as long as he wins, I win. So, I accept his answer, and I smile. “Thank you.”
My father arrives the very next day. Plump and happy, with pink cheeks and a wide grin. He’s healthy and well—all thanks to Vincent.
“Felicity! My darling. How good it is to see you.” He takes my face in his hands, kissing both my cheeks as is his family’s custom.
“Dad. I’m happy to see you so well. How’s the store?”
“We’re selling more than ever. I guess you becoming the queen of the land brought an ounce of fame to our little store you used to work in. Everyone wants a piece of your story.”
I find myself wondering if I miss those days, or the store.
I do not.
I want to be here. To be the mistress of the castle. To have Esme and Sophia by my side by day. Vincent in my bed at night.
But, I do miss my father.
The servants pour wine, slide seconds onto his plate. He laughs and jokes, even managing to pull a smile from my husband’s lips.
I watch my father, from my seat across from him. He is fun, and funny. Gregarious even. So why am I sitting here wondering, why did he put our family through the hell he did by squandering our money away gambling?
But I forgive him, I let it go. I’m learning—if you truly want to be happy—some things are best left in the past.
Dark Crown: A Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Russo Royals Book 1) Page 10