by B. B. Hamel
My heart was racing. Fuck, being close to her drove me wild. I didn’t know what that feeling was, where it came from, but it suffused my body with a deep longing glow. I killed her father, I murdered him in front of her, and yet I wanted to make her my own.
I wanted to take her dead father up on his offer and make her my bride.
I knew it was insane, but in the moment, I needed it.
“Are you mine, Aida?” I whispered.
She bit her lip. “I don’t know.”
“You’re going to be.” I moved closer, my hand sliding back along her cheek then grasping hard in her hair. I pulled it, made her gasp, her eyes widening and her body loosening. Maybe I woke her up, I couldn’t tell, but I leaned closer and pressed my lips to her ear. “You’re going to be mine, little Aida. Your father gave you to me as a gift, said you could be my bride. And I’m taking him up on it.”
She pressed her hands against my chest. For just a moment, I thought she might kiss me.
Instead, she pushed me back.
I released her hair and straightened. I winced again as pain flashed in my stitched side. She stared at me, mouth hanging open, breathing hard. “What the hell are you talking about?” she said.
“You heard me,” I growled. “You think this is a game? You were almost killed because of me. And I won’t let that happen again.” Anger ripped through me as I remembered throwing her down onto the floor of the car and covering her body with my own. My only thought in that moment was I had to save her, I had to keep her safe.
I threw my glass of whiskey against the fireplace. It shattered against the stone and the brown liquid splashed against the back. I limped over to it and stared down at the mess I’d made.
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to marry you,” she said.
I turned and stared as she stood up. Her chest was heaving up and down as she took deep breaths. Her face was animated at least, and she reached back to undo her hair, letting the rest of it fall down around her back.
“I don’t give a damn what you want,” I said. “You’re in this now, girl. And if you want to survive it, you’d better give yourself to me.”
She glared at me for a full five seconds. Silence hung between us. My body ached and I didn’t know why I was pushing her so hard. Maybe it was my anger, or maybe it was just my raging desire for her, my impatience to taste her, have her, control her, make her all mine.
“No,” she said. “You don’t get to… you don’t get to do whatever you want with me.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. I laughed and stared at her beautiful face as it twisted in a new mask of rage. I knew that look, I saw it on her the day after her father died by my gun. I liked that look on her, and I wanted to see more of it. I wanted to push her, piss her off, get her so angry that the only way she could bring herself back down was to ride my cock rough and fast.
“I think I do,” I said. “I saved your life. You’d be dead without me.”
“I’d be back home without you,” she spat. “I’m only here because of you.”
“You’re here because of your piece of shit father. I know you don’t get that yet, but I’m protecting you. I’m saving your life. Vlas would’ve hunted you down by now and cut your fucking throat just to make himself feel better. Get it through your head, Aida. Your life is mine and now I want the rest of you.”
I turned to her, body tense, muscles tight. She gaped at me, lips hanging open. I could see her pretty tongue and I wanted it in my mouth, or maybe rolling around the tip of my cock.
“Go to hell,” she said and turned away.
She took a step toward the kitchen but I moved fast. I walked up to her and grabbed her arm. I didn’t care that it hurt, that it tugged at the stitches. I grabbed her hard and pulled her against me. She turned, eyes wide, as I grabbed her hair rough and pressed my lips against hers.
She moaned into that kiss. Fuck, she moaned, and I could taste that moan on my lips. My tongue slid against hers as I lingered there, gripping her hair, pulling her hair. She was mine, all mine, gorgeous little fucking Aida. I bit her lower lip and she took a sharp breath, her eyes fierce as I released her.
She took a step back, breathing hard. “Asshole,” she whispered, and turned away again.
I let her go that time. She stormed out and disappeared down the back hallway.
I let out a grunt as my exhaustion hit me again. I lowered myself onto the couch and checked to make sure my stitches hadn’t ripped. Once I was satisfied that nothing was bleeding, I called for Steven.
He came into the room and lingered behind the couch. I didn’t turn to look at him.
“Call up my soldiers,” I ordered. “And send a message to Don Leone. We’re going to war.”
He was silent for only a moment. “Yes, sir,” he said.
I heard his footsteps retreat back out of the room as I stared at the stone fireplace and the broken glass glistening in the afternoon sunlight slanting in through the window.
8
Aida
For three days, I woke up alone in a strange bed with sweat pouring down my skin. I kicked off the sheets and stared at the ceiling, going over the same dream in my mind, letting it loop through my brain over and over again. In that dream, Dante stood over me, a wicked smile on his face. He offered me a hand, but as soon as I reached for him, he got further and further away. A pool of blood tried to suck me down into a crack in the pavement. He reached for me, but he kept missing, and soon the world was flooded with black.
Then I’d wake up. Three nights, three mornings, the same dream each time.
On that third morning, I got out of bed and took a shower right away. I let the water drip off my skin. I watched it slide down the off-white drain. The shower head was old, dripped all over, and had terrible water pressure, but it was better than nothing. I let it rinse over me, cleaning the sweat from my body, clearing the dream from my mind. By the time I got out, the room was covered in steam. I wrapped a towel around myself, an old, thin, scratchy light blue thing with bleach stains, and stepped out into the hall.
And stopped in my tracks.
Dante stood near the stairs like he had just come to the top. He tilted his head to one side, a small smile breaking across his lips as his eyes took me in.
I hadn’t seen him since that afternoon. Gino stayed with me day and night only leaving to get food and whatever else I asked for, but he was never gone. I found Gino in the kitchen most mornings, coffee already made, several guns spread out on the table. He’d clean them meticulously, oiling their mechanisms until they shimmered in the incandescent bulbs.
“I was hoping I’d run into you,” Dante said.
“Where have you been?” I asked. The question came out angrier than I’d intended, but I couldn’t help it. Anger flared through me, anger at being left behind, anger at being locked up.
He shrugged and leaned against the wall. “Been preparing for war, little Aida.”
“So what? You should’ve come seen me sooner.” I took a step closer, my heart racing. I wanted to tell him how worried I’ve been, how I kept dreaming about him dying and letting me fall into some black abyss. But I kept my mouth shut.
“Interesting. Didn’t know you wanted to see me.” He took a step closer and I took a step back. I was suddenly very aware that I was in nothing but a towel. “Come here.”
“No.” I grabbed the edge of my towel with my right hand. “Just… let me through.”
He kept coming. I backed up until I ran into the wall. He stopped a couple of feet away from me, looming tall. He wore his usual clothes, tight white shirt, perfectly fitted bespoke pants, though the jacket was left downstairs, and his sleeves were rolled to the elbow. He cocked his head and ran a hand through his hair.
“You want me to come see you, then you’re telling me to get away. You’re sending mixed messages, Aida.”
I glared at him. “I’m a little vulnerable right now.”
“I know.” He reached out and til
ted my chin toward him. I clenched my jaw but didn’t move. “I like it.”
“I bet you do,” I said, staring into his eyes.
He held my gaze for a long moment, not speaking. I could still remember the look on his face that day after we got back as the doctor stitched him up. There was no pain, not anguish, only pure rage, rage so hot and deep that I thought he might start breaking things. He scared me, and I couldn’t pretend like I wasn’t worried with him standing so near, his body looming over mine.
“I’ve been avoiding you,” he said, his voice low and soft. “I’ll admit it.”
“Why?” I asked despite myself.
“I couldn’t look at you.” He clenched his jaw. “I kept thinking about… your body on the floor of the car. About the bullets and the blood.”
I bit my lip and held tighter to the towel. “My ears stopped ringing yesterday,” I said.
He smiled. “That’s a good sign.”
“Yeah?”
“Probably won’t be any hearing damage. Might even handle it better next time.”
I laughed a little but my laugh faded into nothing. “There won’t be a next time,” I said.
His smile faded away as well. “There might be. You’re with me now, Aida. There might be a next time.”
“Dante.”
He reached up and gripped my hair. The movement was sudden, fast. I didn’t have time to pull back or to get away. He grabbed my hair and pulled it, and I let out a soft gasp. I clutched at my towel with my right hand and put my left one on his chest. I could feel his heart racing and I was shocked at the intensity in his eyes.
“I fucked up,” he growled. “I almost got you hurt. I won’t let that happen again.”
“Dante,” I said again.
“Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. It wasn’t your fault. I was the one that wanted to get out of the house.”
He flinched like I’d struck him. “Don’t try to take the blame, little Aida. You didn’t know any better, but I did.”
“If you want to blame yourself, go ahead. But you won’t get any pity from me.”
He leaned closer, his nostrils flaring. “You think I want your pity?”
“I don’t know what else you want from me.”
“I want you,” he growled, tightening his grip in my hair.
“I know.” I said it through clenched teeth as he pulled my head back. “And you can force me into whatever you want right now if that’s all you need.”
His grip relaxed a fraction as his lips came toward mine. But he moved past my mouth and whispered in my ear instead. “When I have you, Aida, you’re going to come to me first. On your hands and knees.”
He released my hair. I took in a sharp breath and glared at him as he moved away. I rubbed my head with my left hand and he paced down the hall like a pent-up tiger, all rage and muscle and power. He turned back and looked at me, arms crossed over his chest.
“Vlas sent me a message this morning,” he said.
“Is everyone okay?”
He nodded. “He wants a meeting. But there’s a problem.”
“What is it?”
“He wants you to come.”
I leaned back against the wall like I’d been shoved. I stared at him and he didn’t draw back or pull his gaze. I could see that he hated saying the words out loud, could see the disgust on his lips. He almost sneered at me, like he was sickened by the whole thing, and I couldn’t blame him. Vlas was playing mind games, just wanted to fuck with Dante, that much was obvious.
“Why?” I asked.
“You know why. Says it’s because you owe him a debt after what your father did, but it’s really just to throw me off balance.”
I tilted my head to one side and pulled up my towel. “He’s fucking with you.”
“Right.” He pressed a palm against the wall and leaned toward it for a moment. “Bastard must’ve realized you meant something to me when his guys saw me cover you during their little ambush.”
“Which is a bad thing for me.”
He laughed. “It’s a bad thing for us all, little Aida, but yes. It’s particularly bad for you.” He stood up straight again and crossed his arms over his chest.
“What are you going to do?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have a choice in this instance. The Leone Family underboss ordered me to take the meeting, which means I can’t refuse.”
“Underboss?” I frowned a little.
“Second-in-command. You don’t need to know more than that. But suffice to say, his word is as good as the Don’s, and so I have to obey orders.”
“Which means I have to obey as well.”
That seemed to get to him. His eyes flashed as he glared at me and shook his head slowly again. “You don’t have to do anything, little Aida. I won’t force you into it.”
“So what am I supposed to do? Stay here alone, while you go get yourself killed?”
“Vlas already tried that once. He’s not stupid enough to try again.”
“Of course he’s going to try again,” I protested, stepping closer. “He’s going to come at you harder next time, Dante. You’re injured now and he knows it.”
Dante smirked at me. “I’m not so bad. And now I’ll have my muscle with me at all times. Besides, I seem to recall two dead Russians back in the street.”
“Still.” I shook my head and held out my hands in a placating gesture. “You can’t just… run off like that. You need me to come with you.”
He smirked and tilted his head. I stared at him and felt my towel begin to slip. I grabbed it with my left hand, blushing a little, and felt my breasts press together, a little slip of cleavage showing from beneath the fabric.
He stepped forward again. “I don’t need anything,” he growled. “I don’t give a fuck what Vlas wants. But I have my orders, and if you’re willing to come, I won’t stop you.”
“I’m not going to let you go alone,” I said, feeling stupid but unable to help myself. I blushed as his eyes stared at my body.
His eyes flashed at me. “You really want that?” he growled.
“If it means ending this war and moving on with my life, yes, I really mean it.”
He shook his head. “I can’t promise this meeting will amount to anything.”
“Is there a chance?”
He hesitated. “There’s always a chance.”
“Then I’ll do it.” I stared at him. “For you but also for me. If this little war can end right here, I’ll take the chance.”
He was silent for a long moment, staring at my body. I felt the hard wood beneath my feet and I felt water drip from my soaked hair down onto the floor. The hallway seemed to contract, and light from downstairs played on the white walls in strange patterns.
“Prove you can handle it,” he said finally, his voice low.
“How?”
“Take off that towel.” He moved closer again, but I didn’t back away.
“What will that prove?”
“That you’re brave. That you’re willing to do exactly what I ask of you.”
“I don’t see how that matters.”
He smirked. “Of course you don’t. But if we’re going to do this, you’re going to have to listen to everything I say. If I tell you to run, you need to run. If I tell you to duck, you better get down the instant the words leave my mouth. Prove that you can obey commands, Aida. Then I’ll let you come with me.”
I clenched my jaw, bit down tight, and didn’t move. He watched me, the hallway still, the only sound coming from the shower still dripping water down onto the metal drain.
Slowly, I reached up to the top of the towel, and unwound it. I let it fall open and drop to the floor, exposing my body to him. I stood there, my skin still damp, as gooseflesh broke out all around my skin. My nipples were hard as his eyes stared at me, moving from my toes, up along my legs, lingering on my pussy before taking in my firm breasts. He finished by looking into my eyes and stepping closer a
gain. I backed away that time, and ran into the wall.
But I didn’t have the towel to protect me as his right hand slid up between my legs. I gasped as he bit my lower lip, bit it hard, and pushed my legs apart. I growled in surprise and pain, but his fingers slipped between my slick pussy lips, pressed apart my folds, and teased up along my slit. I gasped in pleasure and I felt a little groan leave his lips.
“I thought so,” he said. “I thought you’d be dripping wet, little Aida. And this just proves it.”
“What’s it prove?” I asked, panting hard as his fingers began to work my clit. Pleasure flooded me so hard that I felt like I might fall over. I was dizzy with it, with his touch and his smell, his hand and fingers working my pussy like I’d never felt before.
“That you’ll obey. And that you want to.” He kissed me, finally kissed me, tongue against mine, mouth tight against mine. He pushed me hard against the wall and worked my clit faster with his fingers, sliding them up inside of me then pulling them back out. He pulled back from the kiss and spread my legs open, staring into my eyes, then dropped to his knees.
“I thought you said… I’d be on my knees,” I panted.
He smirked and licked me, tongue lapping top to bottom. I grabbed his hair and moaned, my right hand lacing through his thick locks, my left cupping my breast. I couldn’t help myself as I threw back my head. He sucked my clit and tongued my pussy faster, licking me, lapping me up. He grabbed my ass hard, fingers digging into my skin. He sucked me rough then slid two fingers inside of me, fucking me hard with them as he looked into my eyes.
“Just a taste, little Aida,” he whispered then slid his fingers back out and began to suck me again.
I moaned, losing myself, unable to help it. All the pent-up anger, aggression, and fear washed over me in a cascade of emotion and pleasure. I let his tongue do its work and his incredible hands grabbed my body, cupping my ass. I teased my own nipples, tumbling head over heels in pleasure, and he didn’t stop. His tongue was incredible, it was pleasure and passion, it was every inch of what I needed. I gripped his hair harder and moved my hips along his mouth, riding his tongue, the pressure building fast and hard, building so fast I could hardly believe it.