Ruthless Doms Boxset

by Jane Henry

  Chapter 5

  Tomas

  I watch my wife undress, trying to remain aloof and detached. I don’t want her to know how she affects me. I’ve already demonstrated more tenderness than I wished to show this early. Those under the authority of another obey for two reasons: love or fear. Since we don’t love one another and may never, fear is the only option. If I show this woman too much leniency, she won’t learn to fear me.

  And she must learn to fear me.

  She stands in front of me, clearly a diamond in the rough. I saw the picture of her when she was younger, and I’m no fool. Though she’s unkept and rather haggard in appearance, with wild, frizzy, untamed hair, thick, ugly glasses perched on her thin nose, her bare face pale and freckled, I can already see there’s more to her than meets the eye.

  But it isn’t until she begins to peel off her layers that I truly see what I couldn’t at first. Underneath the hideous clothing she wears, she’s absolutely exquisite. I swallow and shift uncomfortably, already hard from taking her over my lap, but now it’s impossible to ignore.

  I have three days to consummate this marriage. I want to do it fucking now.

  First, she pulls off the cumbersome leggings. I haven’t seen anything so ugly in years, and vow once they’re off her, these scratchy fabrics will never touch her skin again. Full, delectable thighs meet my eyes, and I can see the very edge of crisp white panties beneath the hem of her black top.

  “All of them,” I snap out, ready for her to obey. This woman will be the death of me in her training, but if all goes well, it won’t break her. It won’t break us.

  Glaring at me, she clenches her jaw and yanks the gruesome black top over her head, slamming it to the ground. Her crazy hair hangs about in her wild, untamed waves, her pale complexion faintly tainted with light pink cheeks. She stands in front of me now wearing a plain white cotton bra and matching panties. She’d look about twelve years old if not for the curves that fill her undergarments.

  And fuck, those curves. Jesus Christ, those curves.

  I don’t care about her mouth or her history or her attitude. If this woman is to be mine—and she already is by law—I will worship every inch of this magnificent body.

  Her graceful neck slopes downward to sturdy shoulders, flexed when she anchors her hands on her hips. Every goddamn inch of her is curves and valleys and dimpled, creamy skin that I long to taste, touch, and master. Her breasts nearly spill out of her too-small bra, and I long to weigh them in my hands and lick those nipples until she keens with pleasure and need. From her full breasts to her voluptuous thighs, she’s a fucking masterpiece.

  “Jesus Christ, woman,” I say, my voice husky and low. “I owe you thanks for covering a body like that.” She’s a fucking pin-up.

  To my shock, her eyes grow wide for a fraction of a second before they shutter.

  “You jerk,” she says through gritted teeth. “You wanted me, and now you have me. If you wanted someone thin and gorgeous, you should have chosen better.” She turns on her heel to march off from me, and I’m so shocked at her reaction that at first, I don’t respond. Then I realize she’s stalking away. I will not have that.

  I grab her arm and yank her to me.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I ask her, truly confused and ready to spank the truth out of her that quickly.

  She tries to pull her arm away but can’t and finally sighs and submits to my grasp on her arm.

  “You said you’re glad I covered my body,” she states. “Would you prefer I put my clothing back on, then, if my body offends you so?”

  I stare at her, bewildered, before it finally dawns on me how she took my statement. She thought I thought a woman like her ought to be ashamed of her body. Jesus, I’ve got my work cut out for me.

  “Sit,” I order, pointing to the edge of the bed. She will not disobey me. She will not stomp away in petulance. She will sit and listen to me or face the consequences of her disobedience. With a glare, she flounces on the bed, making her full breasts bounce. I swallow hard and think about spanking her again, of strewing her over my lap and slamming my palm against her ass again. And again. And again.

  “You—” she begins, but I’ve had enough.

  I hold up my palm and fix her with a stern glare. “Be quiet,” I snap. I wait to ensure she complies. I’m fully prepared to punish her swiftly if she doesn’t. But she only sighs and stares at me in resignation. Good. At least she’s learned a modicum of fear.

  “You listen to me and do not interrupt me, woman.”

  After a second, she nods, slouched over on the bed.

  “Sit up straight.”

  With a clenched jaw, she obeys.

  “I said I was grateful you covered your body,” I tell her. “Not because I think a body like yours is in any way repugnant to me, but quite the opposite. I don’t know the men of your Bratva, but I’d prefer they didn’t have the privilege of seeing you as I do.”

  I can tell by the way she stares that she doesn’t believe me.

  I walk to her and gesture for her to stand. She does so, though reluctantly.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says.

  “You’re no fool, Caroline,” I say, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. I told her to take off her clothes, and I meant all of them. Her hand flies up to try and trap my wrist, but I quickly deflect her and continue. “There’s a reason you’ve dressed the way you have, and I’ll make it my mission to find out why.”

  “Oh?” she tosses back angrily. “Will you, then?”

  I nimbly unclasp her bra and her beautiful, rounded breasts swing free. I swallow hard and gather one full breast in my palm, letting my thumb gently graze her nipple. “I will,” I say, my voice husky. I turn her around and switch positions, sitting on the bed and positioning her in front of me. Bending, I take the edge of her panties and draw them down. I can feel the heat of her skin where I spanked her, and when the panties come down her thighs, the sweet feminine scent of her arousal makes me nearly mad with lust.

  Now she stands in front of me stark naked, wearing nothing but a scowl and the faint pink of my handprint where I spanked her.

  “Are you aroused by your spanking, Caroline?” I ask, enjoying the way her pale cheeks color.

  “No!” she says, pulling away from me, but I quickly grab her arms and yank her closer.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  I will not ask permission from her, but I will not take advantage. Does she enjoy being under my authority in some way? Does being turned over my lap excite her? I aim to find out.

  “Part your legs,” I command, pushing her thighs apart with the back of my hand.

  She obeys, and the scent of her feminine musk grows stronger. I gently brush the tip of my finger at the very apex of her thighs.

  “Do you like when I take control?” I ask. “Did you like being over my lap for a spanking?”

  She shakes her head wildly, her lips parted.

  “No, of course not. Are you kidding?”

  But one swipe of my finger at her core says otherwise. “Really?” I ask with disbelief. “Are you sure a little part of you isn’t fascinated with the idea of bending to my whip? Of receiving measured pain at my hand?”

  “No,” she says, but her eyes close, and she releases a moan.

  “And yet, the thought arouses you,” I probe.

  “No,” she pants, shaking her head, as I work her pussy.

  I freeze. “No?”

  “No-no. Yes!” she amends, wantonly pushing her hips against my hand for more pressure.

  “Tell me what arouses you,” I say, before I flick her clit. She whimpers.

  “I don’t know,” she says. It’s a fair response. “It hurt when you spanked me.” And then she opens her eyes fully and glares at me. “And I fucking hate sex.”

  I note the antagonism with interest. There’s a story there. I make it my mission to find out what it is and to change it.

  “G
ood,” I say, withdrawing my hand and bringing my wet fingers to her mouth. As much as I want to lay her down and eat her out until she comes on my face with absolute abandon, the timing isn’t right. I have three days to make her mine, and she will learn her place in that time. I won’t let her come until she’s earned it.

  “Suck,” I order.

  Grimacing, she obeys. The wet feel of her tongue on my fingers makes my dick twitch and my stomach tighten. Jesus, I can’t wait to fuck her.

  In time.

  “That’s a good girl,” I tell her. I release her, giving her one more longing look. Her body is utter perfection. “Our plane leaves in the morning. You need some sleep and so do I. Unfortunately, I don’t trust you, so you’ll have to sleep with these on.”

  I pull a pair of cuffs out of my pocket and lead her to the bedpost to cuff her. Her eyes widen. She likely expected I’d fuck her tonight.

  “If it’s an emergency, let me know. If not, you’re not to bother me, and if you do so prematurely, I’ll be forced to punish you.” She won’t sleep well with her arms secured above her head, but given that she’s mine now, and I don’t want her near anyone until she proves I can trust her, she’ll have plenty of time to rest.

  “Where are you going to sleep?” she asks. I nod to the bed beside her.

  “You’re my wife,” I say, aware that my tone is sarcastic and biting. “I’ll sleep beside you. But don’t worry. I won’t touch you.”

  “You…” she begins, then she thinks better of what she was going to say and clamps her mouth shut.

  “Me what?” I ask. “Say it.” I begin to undress, slipping out of my coat jacket and hanging it over a chair.

  “You say you’re not repulsed by me, but you have no interest in consummating our marriage? That makes no logical sense to me.”

  I like that she’s ruled by logic, and I’ll keep that in mind. At the same time, it’s my duty to train her to obey me, so she’ll only get the bare minimum.

  “You’re wrong in assuming I don’t want to consummate our marriage. I do. Very much so.” I unbutton my trousers and push them down my legs. “And that should be obvious to you.”

  Her eyes travel to the large erection tented in my boxers and real fear crosses her face. She swallows hard.

  “But not tonight?” she whispers.

  I shake my head.

  “Not tonight.”

  She breathes a sigh of relief and seems almost relaxed in her cuffs. I don’t understand this woman but will. I pull off my t-shirt and climb into bed with her. Shyly, she looks me over, lingering on the ink that paints my neck, arms, and back.

  “Someday, will you tell me what those mean?” she asks, so innocently, she doesn’t sound like the woman of just a few minutes ago.

  “Maybe someday,” I tell her. “Now no more talking. Sleep.”

  I wish our wedding night could’ve ended differently than this, but I’m no romantic. The only reason I do is because I’d have liked to fuck her well and good before we went to sleep, to calm the blood pounding in my veins. To remind her that she belongs to me.

  I roll over with my back to her. I like the warm feel of her skin against mine. I can almost hear her thinking, as she lies there in the dark and I wonder what she turns over in her mind.

  Still, sleep comes swiftly in the end.

  When I wake the next morning, she’s already stirring beside me, her arms still in cuffs, staring up at the ceiling. I wonder if she’s slept at all.

  “Dobroye utro,” I say. Good morning.

  She purses her lips and give me a sidelong glance but doesn’t respond.

  Casually, I reach over to one of her bare breasts and take her nipple between my fingers. She tenses when I squeeze and narrows her eyes. I’m not trying to arouse her. I’m reminding her of what happens when she doesn’t behave.

  “The proper way to respond to your husband is to say good morning, or dobroye utro,” I tell her. I hold onto the tender bud. “Go on, now.”

  “Good morning,” she says through gritted teeth, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Looks like fine weather we’re having, doesn’t it?”

  I look out the window for the first time. It’s dark and rainy, and thunder booms in the air.

  I shrug. “It’s lovely. Are you hungry?” I ask. Her eyes flit to where I still have hold of her nipple.

  “Starving. Are you going to let me go or not?”

  “Are you going to watch your mouth or not?”

  She sighs, briefly closes her eyes, then nods. “Yes.”

  I release her nipple and watch as it turns a pretty shade of deep pink. With the very tip of my finger, I circle the outer edge and push myself up on my elbow.

  “Your breasts are gorgeous,” I tell her huskily. “I’d like to taste them for breakfast.”

  “Charming,” she says, which earns her another punishing tweak. Gasping, she tenses. I release her nipple and bend my mouth to her other breast, lazily drawing my tongue along the pretty pink peak. Holding her gaze with mine, I draw her nipple into my mouth and suck hard.

  Her back arches but her hands stay in place, still cuffed to the headboard. The way her eyes flutter shut I can tell she likes my ministrations. Gently, I knead one nipple while I lap and suckle the other, until a little moan of pleasure escapes her pretty lips. I release her nipple and drop a kiss to the damp, hardened skin, before I draw my mouth lower and kiss the fullest part of her bare breast.

  “Fucking beautiful,” I tell her, planting kisses all along her chest. Cuffed, she can’t stop me, but I have a feeling that it’s only an excuse for her to enjoy this, because she gently parts her knees without prompting and whimpers when I stop.

  Pushing myself up to her neck, I kiss her there, inhaling her sweet scent, faintly honeyed and floral.

  Christ, she’s got me so damn aroused. As pakhan, I have women whenever I want them and readily, but they’ve been willing. Eager, even. This one is not only more beautiful than the slender women I’ve taken, with her full curves and valleys I could sink into with pleasure. She poses a challenge to me. Maybe it’s because she’s hard to get. Maybe it’s because she’s a fucking goddess. Maybe it’s because she’s my wife and deep within I know I own every inch of her.

  I want to fuck this woman more than I’ve ever wanted to fuck anyone before. But I can be patient, and I will.

  “You can’t mean that,” she says softly It makes me pause.

  “Mean what?”

  “That you find me beautiful.”

  I’m taken aback by her response. I can tell she’s sincere. I shake my head. We need to clear this up.

  “There’s one thing you need to know about me, Caroline. I never say anything I don’t mean. I don’t mince words, and I don’t sugarcoat the truth.”

  How could she not think she’s beautiful?

  But she says nothing else as I make my way up the column of her neck to her lips. Bracing my hand against one side of her face, I cup her jaw and lower my mouth to hers.

  She tastes delicious, sweet, and seductive, like the most delectable wine. Pungent and sweet, fruity and intoxicating. I take one sip and can’t stop, can’t pull away from her. She moans beneath me as I kiss her deeply, even as her body tenses. I wait until she arches into me, wanting more, before I pull away.

  When I do, she opens her eyes and glares at me.

  “I’m not sure I like the way you’re looking at me,” I tell her, pushing out of bed and getting to my feet. “There’s defiance laced in every part of your body.”

  “Oh?” she throws back. “I suppose you’ll whip that out of me or something?”

  She has no fucking idea.

  I head to the bathroom and look over my shoulder at her, thinking before I respond.

  “I have many methods, Caroline. And time will tell which works best. If I were you, I wouldn’t test me unless a part of you wants to be punished by me.” I open the door to the bathroom. “Then by all means, do it. Defy me and see where that lands you.”

/>   I use the bathroom quickly, listening hard to the other side of the door, but there’s no movement or sound. When I come back in the room, a little bit of the fiery temper has faded from her gaze, and she licks her lips. I’d give anything to know what’s going on in that mind of hers. The woman runs deep, a veritable chasm of thoughts and emotions and intellect I’m eager to explore.

  “May I please use the bathroom?” she asks politely.

  I nod. “You may.” She watches as I retrieve the key, slip it in, and free her wrists. “Be quick about it. We need to go eat breakfast.”

  She gets out on the side of the bed away from me, walks around in a large loop to avoid coming close, walks to the bathroom and shuts the door hard. Almost a slam, though not quite. She’s skirting the edge of defiance on purpose.

  I shake my head to myself and stifle a chuckle. She’s so predictable it’s almost amusing. I dress before I open the dresser drawer and find some clothes for her. Nicolai told me Marissa would outfit her, and she’s done a good job. I choose a soft blue cotton dress and undergarments and lay them on the bed and wait for her. When she comes out of the bathroom I point silently to the clothes. I watch as she tugs them on and doesn’t question my choice. So there are areas where she chooses to draw the line. I note this.

  When she’s done, I gesture for her to have a seat. Nicolai said we had a choice to either eat with the brotherhood or eat privately, and I’m not sure I trust her well enough to bring her around the others.

  “You may sit at the table until I tell you to get up,” I tell her. I wait until she sits obediently and places her hands in her lap before I check my messages.

  Lev: Complications in San Diego. Call when you can.

  I huff out an angry breath. Of course there are complications in San Diego. Why did I think my marriage to Caroline would actually go off without a hitch?

  Caroline taps her foot and bites her lip while I text Lev back. I’ll call you after I eat breakfast. My stomach rumbles with hunger, and my irritation grows. I need to eat something before I bite someone’s head off, and the closest person to me is the woman I’ve married.