“It’s me.” Finch cradles me in his arms when I collapse in a fit of tears. He pulls me farther into the shadows and comforts me. When my composure is once again restored, we cautiously make our way through the stone corridors of the old mansion until we reach my room, and Finch lets me go.
“I came as soon as I heard.”
I look at him and then realize what he means. My uncle informed the mafia world about his plans for me today before I was even told myself.
“My marriage.”
“Yes. We need to get you out of here. Pack as few of your belongings as necessary. Hurry, we don’t have much time.”
“Will you marry me?” I blurt out, and Finch steps back in shock. “Get me pregnant?.” I start to pull at his clothes, desperately trying to take his shirt off. He pushes me away, and I stand there dumbfounded. “Finch?”
“The time for me to be your husband has passed. Even if I did marry you, they’d never allow our child to rule. I’m an outlaw to the mafia now.”
“But its mother wouldn’t be.”
He shake his head.
“You would be. You know the male line is all important. Our child would take on my status as an outlaw. It’s why your uncle wants you to marry Osbourne. A child born from you and his right-hand man can be molded by your uncle and controlled by him in the future.”
I turn away from Finch and go to the window, sobbing.
“Where will I go?”
“I’m not sure where you’ll go eventually, but I think the only way for you to escape this at the moment is to join a convent. It’s an old-fashioned solution, I know, but it’ll stop them being able to force you into doing anything against your will. You’ll be protected by God, and even your uncle won’t go against that.”
Bringing my hands up to my face, I look out of my bedroom window at the surrounding city. I live in the tallest building in Nottingham, right in the center, where everyone can see us and I can see them. The poverty all around hits me once again. I watch a little girl as she sits on a street corner with a tin, calling for money. One of my uncle’s guards approaches her and chases her away. Farther down the same street, an old woman stumbles and falls to the ground, but nobody stops to help her get back up—they’re all too busy or maybe they’re too fearful of my uncle’s men. There are so many of them, standing on the street corners, directing what’s happening. How can a free city be like this? It’s something akin to the dark ages, not the modern day?
“Mary, we don’t have long. We need to go.” Finch pulls a bag out of my wardrobe and starts shoving some of my clothes in it.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“What?” Finch drops the bag and comes straight over to me. I turn away from the window to face him.
“Don’t you see, I can’t. The only way to end this suffering is if I accept my fate and marry Osbourne. I’ll be able to instill love and compassion into any child I have with him, so that when my uncle dies, my son will be able to restore my father’s legacy. You continue to help the people down there your way, and I’ll help them in mine. I never understood before, but now I realize this is what my father was planning for me all along.”
“It could be bad,” Finch states, and I know he’s referring to Osbourne.
“I’m the daughter of a mafia alpha. I’m ready for anything.”
There’s a knock at my bedroom door, and Finch scrambles across to me.
“Last chance,” he says, holding his hand out, but I refuse to take it.
“Go.”
“I’ll be back later to check on you.”
“I know.” I lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek before he disappears out through the window, and I quickly hide the bag of clothes he was packing.
The bedroom door opens. My uncle, Osbourne, and another man I don’t recognize walk into the room. The stranger is carrying a little bag.
“Is he the priest?” I ask.
“No, a doctor,” my uncle replies.
“I’m not sick. I’m just a little shocked, which I think is understandable. I’m not in need of any medication to calm me down.”
“He’s not here for that,” Osbourne responds. They’re the first words he’s spoken to me all day.
“Then what is he here for?” I inquire, my hands going to my hips and my tone laced with venom.
“To check on your virginity.”
“To what?”
“Enough with the questions, Mary. On the bed.” My uncle sighs with frustration.
“Not a chance in hell. I’m a virgin, and it doesn’t need proving to anyone.”
“I’ll not bring up a bastard as my own,” Osbourne responds, which angers me even more, and I strike the palm of my hand across his cheek. The sharp slap echoes around the room. My future husband grabs me by the wrist and flings me onto the bed. I struggle against him, kicking and screaming, but his strength is too much for me, especially when he lowers his body over mine to keep me in place.
“Get off me,” I spit at him, but the dark color of his eyes pins me to the spot, and I stop struggling when I realize I’m never going to beat him in this battle of wills. “I give you my word I’m a virgin.”
“It’s a requirement of the contract,” he replies bluntly as he lifts himself off me and goes to stand calmly at the head of the bed.
The doctor lifts up the skirt I’m wearing and parts my legs.
“Please,” I try to beg again, but Osbourne ignores me and turns away.
“Begin,” my uncle orders, waving his hand in the air, and I brace myself against the unwanted intrusion into my core.
When I look up at Osbourne, I see his fists are clenched tightly, and his brow shines with a fine layer of sweat. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was hating this just as much as I was.
Maybe that’s something I can work with. But then Finch’s words return.
‘Don’t trust him.’
And I turn my head away from the man who’s about to become my husband at the same moment it’s proclaimed I’m a virgin.
Chapter Three
Mary
The wedding passes with little pomp or ceremony. Those who need to witness it do and leave to celebrate—no doubt plotting with my uncle. I’ve been brought to my bedroom, and a lady’s maid assigned to prepare me just the way Osbourne has prescribed. My long brown hair is plaited down my back, and I wear a simple silk negligée, which feels odd against my skin. I prefer to wear cotton pajamas to bed, so I can snuggle up warm under the sheets. Comfort is my middle name.
After I’ve been preened for my new husband’s attention, the lady’s maid insists on giving me a short talk about what is expected. While I’ve lived a relatively sheltered life for a modern young woman, I’m not ignorant of the facts or naïve, so all her talk accomplishes is to make my stomach churn with even more nerves. I’ve no doubt Osbourne is an experienced man. He’s handsome and probably has woman falling at his feet, giving him exactly what he needs in the bedroom. I’m sure I’ll be a disappointment to him.
I take a deep breath and start to repeat a mantra in my head. The same one I’ve recited since Finch left me this morning.
You’re doing this to help the people of Nottingham.
You’re doing this to help the people of Nottingham.
No, it’s no use. I’m going to bring up the meager meal I ate earlier. Sprinting from the bed, I run to the bathroom and empty the sparse contents of my stomach down the toilet. The lady’s maid enters the room and shakes her head.
“This will not do. Mr. Osbourne will be so disappointed.” She pulls me to my feet and slaps me across the face. My head spins as I stare at her in shock. “Grow up, girl. In a few minutes, you’ll be a woman for real, and that comes with responsibilities. Open your legs and let your husband fuck you like women have done since the start of time. Now clean your teeth, and get into bed. I’ve worked hard, making you look pretty, and I’ll not have it ruined.”
I can’t believe what she did to me. Nobody, not e
ven my father, has slapped me before or even admonished me in the way she’s just done. Blindly stumbling through the motions, I clean my teeth and get back into bed. The lady’s maid pulls the sheets up and arranges my plaited hair over my shoulder.
“At least try to look seductive,” she tuts and pinches my lips together to make them fuller. “God, it’ll be like fucking a wet kipper.”
She shakes her head and leaves the room.
A few minutes later, Osbourne enters. He’s still dressed in the suit trousers he married me in. He’s lost the tie and jacket, though, and his shirt is unbuttoned at the top. He’s carrying a glass of an amber colored drink, brandy or whiskey—I don’t know which.
“You want some?” he offers, and I shake my head and look down at the bed. The white sheets around me are crisp and clean.
Placing the drink down on the dressing table, Osbourne comes over to the bed, and I watch as he removes his shirt—the soft fabric floats through the air and drops to the floor, and his muscular chest is revealed to me. I look away again, not wanting him to know I find him exciting, but I can feel my body heating, which no doubt gives me away.
“Look at me, Mary,” Osbourne orders as he stands at the side of the bed. He holds my chin and twists my head, inspecting me closely. I try to pull away, but his grip is too strong. “Someone has hit you?”
He strokes his free hand down the side of my face where the lady’s maid slapped me. It feels like a fire ignites on my cheek. I don’t reply.
“That was a question, Mary. Answer me?”
“I’m a little nervous about what we’re about to do. The lady’s maid tried to calm me down.”
“By hitting you?”
“Yes.”
Osbourne’s eyes flash with anger.
“She’ll be fired tomorrow and won’t be allowed near you again.” That isn’t what I expected him to say. I’d have been more inclined to think he’d give her a promotion. He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to my injured cheek. “I’ll not let anybody hurt you.”
The surge of fire I feel from his kiss cascades down my body to my core. What is happening to me?
“Thank you,” I reply in a whisper.
Osbourne moves his mouth from my cheek to my lips and tenderly places a gentle kiss on them. This isn’t what I expected at all. I thought he’d just take me, ready or not. It’s a little unsettling.
“Lay back,” he orders in a soft but commanding voice, and I obey. “Trust me, Mary. I won’t hurt you no matter what my reputation is. I’m not that much of a monster.”
I open my mouth to say something in response, but I can’t find any words.
Finch, the only man I’ve ever had faith in apart from my father, has told me not to trust Osbourne. Conflict twists in my gut as Osbourne slides his hand over my body, across the curve of my breast, and down between my thighs. With his other hand, he presses his fingers to my lips.
“Beautiful.” He gently pulls my nightgown up my thighs, revealing my core to him. “And responsive.”
I wonder what he means, but then I feel the wetness pooling between my thighs.
“Have you touched yourself before down there?” Osbourne asks, and I blush. “Mary, when I ask you a question, you need to answer for this to work. I want to know what you like.”
“Yes.” My response is barely audible in the large room.
“Good. Show me.”
I shake my head.
Osbourne takes my hand and places it between my thighs.
“Please, show me.”
“I can’t,” I reply timidly.
He leans over me and kisses me on the forehead. I don’t know who this man in the bedroom with me is, but he’s certainly not the man who, during our wedding ceremony, told the vicar to, ‘Fucking hurry up.’
Osbourne takes my hand and strokes it between my thighs. I have touched myself before, quite often actually. There’s not much else to do but read romance books and imagine yourself as the heroine when you’re stuck in a mansion, looking after your dying father. I let out a moan when it starts to feel good.
“I’m excited, knowing I’m going to hear that noise for the rest of my life,” Osbourne whispers in my ear.
Feeling embarrassed at his words, I quickly pull away from his grip and tuck both my hands under my bottom.
Osbourne laughs, and the deep timbre of his laughter travels through me until I can feel it at my core.
I’m in big trouble.
He lifts my nightdress and pulls it over my head, leaving me naked in front of him. He licks his lips in appreciation at the sight of me. I want to hide, but I know I can’t. I have to go through with this.
You are doing this to help the people of Nottingham.
You are doing this to help the people of Nottingham.
Osbourne presses his lips to mine, once again, before trailing a path of kisses over my jawline and down my neck to my breasts. I’m not a big woman, but he seems to take great delight in bringing my nipple into his mouth and sucking on it until I’m writhing under his expert skills.
Next he lowers himself down my body and between my thighs. I want to push him away. Nobody has ever had their face close to my private parts before. Osbourne flicks his tongue over my clit, again and again, so much so that any nerves I had dissipate into a puddle of warmth at my core. He pushes a finger inside me, but I’m so wet now it doesn’t hurt, a second follows and stretches me, preparing me for him. I feel the orgasm slam into me before I even have a chance to register what is happening. I buck wildly on the bed as I bathe his face with my ecstasy.
When I eventually come down, Osbourne looks up at me. His eyes are as black as the night—little sign exists of his dark-brown irises. He wants me, and I know I can’t stop him from taking me. At this point, I’m not sure I want to.
I nod my head—I don’t know why, I just do, and he slowly moves back up my body and presses his lips to mine. I can taste myself on his mouth, but rather than be disgusted, I savor the evidence of my pleasure. It’s foreign yet beautiful at the same time.
I feel the head of his dick press against my entrance and instantly freeze with nerves. I hadn’t even realized that at some point he’d removed his trousers and underwear. I’d been lost in my orgasmic bliss.
“Relax,” Osbourne whispers into my ear. “I’ll try to hurt you as little as possible. There may be some pain as this is your first time, and I’m not a small man.”
I instantly look down and see where we’re about to be joined. He’s big, big, big. Shit!
“I…” I try to protest, but he cuts my words off with another kiss and starts to push inside me. I brace myself, waiting for him to slam all the way in, which is the way I expected this to go—the way a devil would take a woman, but he doesn’t. He stills and waits, giving me time to adjust to his intrusion, before he edges a little farther in. The barrier of my virginity breaks, but he doesn’t stop, he continues to push forward. I’m starting to think a wanton harlot has been released because by the time he’s all the way in, I’m begging him to move or do anything to relieve the feeling of fullness inside me.
When Osbourne starts to pull out, I moan loudly into the silent room, grateful for the moment of relief from the pressure. He tilts his hips and sets a slow rhythm moving in and out of me. It’s the sweetest agony. I want it hard and fast. Jesus! Who is this woman? What is this man doing to me? I don’t even like him. He’s an asshole, but I want his cock fucking me harder. Was I drugged with some strange potion, making me more responsive to this? I did have a couple of oysters at lunch, and they’re supposed to make you feel more sexual. It must be them. I don’t recognize myself at all in this moment.
Another orgasm builds within me, and I can’t stop it, even if I wanted to. I thrust my head back into the pillows and cry out in pleasure as my body tightens around Osbourne’s cock. He’s buried deep within me, and I feel his release coat my insides, combing our essences and seeking to form a child of our blood.
We both s
top moving. Osbourne looks down at me. He’s still inside me, and I start to feel the soreness of his intrusion. He doesn’t move, though. He just stares at me. His eyes are the softest I’ve ever seen them. The blackness of the devil has gone, replaced with warm mahogany colors. His eyes are wet around the edges, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say they’re tears. I reach up and place my hand to his cheek.
“Are you ok?” I question, and the shutters fall on the kind man who’d just made love to me. The devil appears and roughly pulls out of me. He checks his dick, and I see it’s coated in the blood of my virginity.
“Don’t move for at least an hour. Keep your legs up. You need to keep my semen inside you, so we have the best chance of getting you pregnant.” He then gathers his clothes and leaves the room without looking back at me once.
I do exactly as he orders. I stay there on the bed for an hour with my legs in the air. I don’t know why—I think I’m more dumbstruck than anything. When it’s finally time for me to move, I walk gingerly to the shower and wash every last trace of the man from my body.
Finch was right. I can’t trust my husband—he’ll do anything to get what he wants.
Chapter Four
Mary
My mind is a whirl of emotions. Osbourne has come to me every night since we married a month ago. Other than that, I don’t really see him. He doesn’t always speak when he comes to me, but sometimes we talk and get to know each other before he takes me, always gently and tenderly. He’s actually a more intelligent man than I first gave him credit for, and we have similar interests, apart from his need for power. As soon as the act is done, though, his mask falls again, and I’m left alone with his semen drying between my thighs. It’s like a switch flicks the second he comes. I’m tired and no longer know what to think about him. I just have to keep in my head Finch’s warning. Osbourne can’t be trusted.
I also think the inevitable has happened, and I’m pregnant. That’s why I’m locked in my bathroom with three pregnancy tests in front of me, waiting for the results from each of them. My period is late, my breasts are sore, and this morning, I couldn’t keep anything down. All sure signs my uncle and husband will soon have their wish for an heir granted.
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