Tied Down

by Vanessa Waltz

  His heated voice puts me on edge, and my soldiers tense against the wall.

  Defuse the fucking situation.

  Carlos backs off, venom in his gaze as he sits down on the chair as though it has pins. I take my seat and fold my hands into steeples.

  “Couple weeks ago, I met a girl in my bar,” I tell him, staring directly into his eyes. “I took her home. We had a good time and that was that.”

  “You son of a bitch—”

  “I had no idea who the fuck she was until she came into Le Zinc.”

  Carlos doesn’t say another word. He just stares at me with the most poisonous, rotten hatred I’ve ever seen in my life.

  “My daughter came to you and you fucked her like one of your whores?”

  Heat slowly builds up in my chest. “I told you, I had no idea who she was. I would have never touched her.”

  That’s a lie.

  “I want my daughter back home—”

  “No.”

  He stands up from the chair, biceps rippling. “No?”

  “Sit back down.”

  “I will fucking—”

  “She’s pregnant, and it’s mine.”

  For a moment there’s stunned silence and his jaw goes slack. Then he lets out a scream of outrage and the table flips over, crashing to the side of the wall. I saw it coming a mile away. One wrong look and he’ll come after me and I’ll be forced to kill him.

  I stand up and grab the head of my chair, watching his pacing body as he desperately tries to keep it all together.

  “You fucking insult me by fucking my daughter and getting her pregnant—”

  “Carlos, I had no idea who she was, but I want to make it right. I never meant to disrespect you.”

  “You disrespected me the moment you put your fucking cock inside her.” He spits on the floor and Chris makes a violent gesture, but I hold out a hand.

  He’s allowed to be pissed.

  “We’re engaged. I’ll make her part of my family—”

  “NO!”

  My hands turn white. “I’m trying to do right by your daughter.”

  “I’d rather see her dead than watch her get married to an Italian.”

  “What the fuck did you just say?”

  The ugly words hang over our heads like a grand piano on the verge of crashing down. There it is, out in the open. Carlos sucks in his bottom lip, bursting to tell me off like the dumbass he is.

  Say it again, you piece of shit. And I’ll grab the shotgun hidden behind the couch.

  “You want to make it right?” he says in a cooler tone.

  “Yes.”

  He points a finger in my face. “She gets an abortion and she comes back to me.”

  Hell fucking no.

  “I am not killing my unborn child.”

  “Then she is fucking dead to me, AND SO ARE YOU!”

  He lunges at me, but his men grab his arms and yank him back. “Carlos, come on!”

  “NO! He knocked up my daughter and I’m just supposed to fucking take it?”

  “I apologized to you,” I say through my teeth. “I am trying to be respectful even though I’d like to put a bullet in your head for suggesting that I force my fiancée to abort my child.”

  “Why don’t you fucking try it, dago!”

  I’m seconds away from hurling my chair in his face and beating him down until his legs stop working. I want to hear him scream, for his ribs to break because he just used that word against me.

  “Get him the fuck out of here before I kill him.”

  What a disaster.

  Tensions are taut, stretched beyond their limit. Like a flickering match in a gasoline-soaked room. Everyone’s ready to explode.

  “This isn’t fucking over!” he screams over his shoulder as his men drag him outside. “That fucking guinea touched my daughter—”

  I kick the chair aside, and I can’t see anything but red as I lunge at the door. Sal tackles my chest before I can get to the door, and then the others help pin me against the wall. My throat is ripped raw from my screams.

  “FUCKING COCKSUCKER!”

  “Johnny, calm down.”

  “I’ll fucking kill him!”

  The roar of motorcycles drowns out my voice. There’s still a chance—I can still fucking get him.

  “Let me the fuck go!”

  Their arms finally loosen their hold on me, and I shove Sal’s chest. I want to smash his face to a pulp.

  “You should have let me kill that piece of shit. He has to go.”

  Of that, I’m certain.

  Sal squeezes my shoulder. “You just told him that you knocked up his daughter. Let him cool off.”

  “No one calls me a fucking guinea. I should rip out his tongue and feed it to the pigs—piece of shit!”

  “I hear you, but he’s the president of Les Diables.”

  Yes, he is.

  He’s also my fiancée’s father.

  I try to let those facts sink into my head, even though I want nothing more than to climb into my Audi and run him over. It would be satisfying to see that prick launch from his stupid bike, and the police would probably thank me for it.

  “This is my opinion, but I think you should give him another chance. I don’t think his people want a war, either.”

  That’s what’ll happen if I make a move on their president. A lot of people will die, and there’s still the matter of the airport heist. It can’t be derailed, no matter what.

  I park my car and slam the door shut. When I get into the elevator, I pace around the small box, hating my reflection, because it reminds me so much of my own father. Then I jam the keys in my apartment and wrench open the door, slamming it so hard that the walls shake.

  I see her hanging against the doorframe, her arms crossed. She pushes off slightly and makes a beeline toward me, her long hair swaying behind her shoulders. Dark makeup makes her eyes look mischievous, but I’m in no mood for her shit right now.

  “So how’d it go?”

  I don’t say anything. I’m not the fucking type to open up about my goddamn feelings. I’d rather just bury it. Forget about it.

  “That bad, eh?”

  An apologetic smile lifts the corners of her mouth and some of the steam cools off my chest.

  “You look really pissed.” She bites her lip.

  “I am fucking pissed,” I finally snap.

  “What did he say?”

  I march past her, torn between the need to rant and rave, and what my mother would say if she knew I was badmouthing my fiancée’s father in front of her.

  She won’t leave me alone. Maya’s footsteps echo behind me, even as I enter my study. The one place she shouldn’t fucking follow me.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want to talk to you.”

  “You don’t want to hear me trash your father, so please just leave me the fuck alone.”

  I’m appalled at my tone. It’s not her fault. She doesn’t deserve this.

  Maya steps inside my office, bold as brass. Her hands glide over my shoulders and slide my jacket from my arms. What the hell is she doing?

  “Johnny, there’s nothing you could say about my dad that I haven’t thought of already.”

  “He’s a miserable prick. He insulted me. Called me a fucking dago.”

  Her brown eyes slide to mine. “He calls you that all the time behind your back.”

  My heart pounds against my chest. I hear my blood roaring in my head.

  She bites her lip again. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  I sigh as she loosens my tie and unbuttons my shirt. Her hands soothe me. It’s nice to feel them flattening over my muscles. Hell, just looking at her makes me feel better.

  I want to stew. I want to go after that son of a bitch, but Maya’s fucking hands are all over me. Her right hand slides down my waist and anchors over my cock. She gives it a squeeze.

  And then I wonder why the fuck I’m pissed when I have a smoking-hot fiancée, standing
right in front of me, fondling me. Just begging for it. She gropes me through the fabric and a low growl escapes my throat.

  “That first night with you.”

  “What about it?”

  She’s making waves of blood pound through my dick. “The way you just stripped off your clothes in front of me to distract me.” My muscles stretch into a smile for the first time. “That’s what it feels like you’re doing right now.”

  “Is it working?”

  You know damn well it’s working. It made me come inside her without protection, which knocked her up.

  I don’t regret it.

  And I don’t regret what I’m about to do to her either.

  She hisses in pain as I grasp a handful of her hair and pull.

  “I don’t want to fuck you while I’m angry—”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  But it’s already too fucking late. I grab the neckline of her t-shirt with both hands and rip.

  “Johnny!”

  I tear it all the way down and then I fling the discarded pieces away from her. She whirls around, her eyes widened.

  I take her jaw gently and sweep my thumb over her parted lips, which sigh against me. “For your own good, you should tell me to stop now.”

  She should walk away right now, except she reaches behind her back and undoes her bra. Her tits spill out as the bra slides down her arms. Fearless eyes.

  “I want you.”

  How can I resist that?

  “I want to own your body.”

  My blood simmers as she bends over and pulls her jeans and panties all the way down. Her shaven pussy gleams with wetness. She is so beautiful. I don’t want to hurt her, but I fucking want her.

  I fist her hair and arch her neck over my arm as though I’m about to slit her throat. Then I make her walk to the desk in my dark study. I’ve never fucked anyone on my desk.

  I kiss her throat as her chest pulses, and then my mouth drags over her skin, all the way to her ear. Her body responds to my touch by turning a bright red color.

  “I wanted to tell your daddy that I would have fucked his daughter even if I knew who she was.”

  I palm her back and force her to bend over my desk.

  “Lay your arms in front of you.”

  She obeys like a perfect little fiancée, already obsessed with pleasing her man. What a fantastic view of her pussy. It’s mine, along with every other part of her. I’d like to spank that swell of her ass over and over and feel the blood rush to my palm and her skin heat up, but I don’t have time to play with her. I unloop the belt at my waist and shove my slacks down, loving how she jumps when I lay the leather strap over her ass.

  Thwack!

  The imprint of the belt slowly swells red as I crack it over her ass. The rage flows down my hand, pulsing into that belt as if it’s an extension of myself. I lean over her, my thick cock flattening against her ass as I loop the belt around her neck and pull it back with my fist. My heart pounds at the sight of her bent over the desk for me. The way her back curves and her tits kiss my desk. Holy fuck, it’s a hot sight. Then I sink my cock into her, pulling on the belt as she lets out a sharp hiss. Her warmth swallows me whole. I dig my fingers into her ass as I watch my cock slowly sink between her lips. She moans, pressing her ass against mine. My fingers make red marks in her skin and I yank back on the belt, watching her hair spill over her back. I bury myself balls deep inside her, transfixed by the image of her hair over her naked back. She screams as I rut her hard, the contents of my desk spilling to the floor as she splays out her hands.

  I lean over her body and slide my hand under her chest, squeezing her round globes. She turns her head, the belt tight on her throat.

  “Johnny!”

  I want to see her come apart as I fuck her brains out. The belt makes a loud sound as I hurl it away from me. Then I pull out of her, my cock pounding with the need to release. I wrap my arms around her ass and lift her onto my desk so that she sits on the edge.

  She digs her fingers in my hair as her chest heaves. I push her down so that she lies flat on my desk, her knees spread apart with her pussy open for me.

  No one calls me a fucking dago to my face.

  My dick slides back into her and a low moan trembles from Maya’s parted lips. She wraps her legs around me and screams. My hips slam into the desk, fucking her cunt so hard that I have to force myself to slow down because of the edge of pain in her voice. Her tits bounce on her chest as I bang her, and I bend over her body, overcome with a need to mark her as mine. Her fingers thread through my hair as I touch my lips to her gorgeous tits and suck. I bite her fucking hard and she yanks on my hair. The red mark swells and I find another area of smooth skin to defile. She doesn’t tell me to stop. She digs her heels in my back and arches her body into my mouth as though she can’t get enough of it—enough of me.

  My mouth finds her nipple and she twists under me, moaning. I love seeing her like this. It makes my cock pulse with blood. I feel myself getting close, and I think how hot it would be to come all over her body, to see her tits dripping with my cum. It’s filthy as fuck.

  “Johnny!”

  My beautiful fiancée is close. I can see the desire screwing up her face. My mouth finds her lips and she crushes them against me as I bury myself balls deep. She nearly chokes me with her tongue and I bite down on it. Her moans vibrate through my lips.

  “Keep going!”

  She digs her fingers in my back so hard that I know I’ll have marks. No matter. I gave her about a dozen on her tits. I nearly come when I think about defiling her pretty body, and taking a picture of it and sending it to her asshole father, but I would never do that, of course.

  I thrust my hips harder as she clings to my back and moans into my ear. She squeezes my cock and convulsions rip through her body.

  “Oh my God!”

  I pull out my dick, so close I can feel it building up inside my shaft, and then I fist the base of my cock. A rope of cum shoots out, draping over her tits. I pump my shaft as three more ropes shoot out, the energy leaving my body as I stroke my dick. It’s as perfect as I envisioned. Thin streams of white lie across her body, over her breasts and the marks sprinkled all over. Goddamn, it’s beautiful.

  “I want to remember the way you look right now.”

  She turns her head, too tired to respond.

  You’re completely and utterly mine.

  I bend over, my legs shaking as I take my discarded shirt and wipe the cum from her body.

  She sits up on the desk, her eyes narrowed at me as I hold my shirt.

  All of a sudden my balance is off. She shoves my chest and she’s on her feet, and then her palm rips across my face. She slaps me so goddamn hard my head whips to the side. A vicious sting makes blood rush to my cheek.

  What the fuck just happened?

  My cheek burns as she looks at me as though I’m scum, and I touch her shoulder. She flinches from my touch, and that alone makes me swallow hard.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.”

  “Then what is your problem?”

  “You.”

  Arrogant eyes flick toward me and away as she walks to the door.

  “Is this some kind of pregnancy hormones, mood-swing bullshit, or do you have a reason for slapping me?”

  “You might have fucked the anger out of your system, but I’ve been pissed off for days.”

  Fine, I get it. She’s used to getting what she wants, and she’s upset that she can’t go off on her own anymore.

  “I’m stuck here all day, and I’m getting married to a man, who, well…”

  Her voice trails off and I cross my arms, my temper flaring again. “Who…what? Finish your sentence.”

  A pink blush spreads over her cheeks. “Never mind.”

  I reach out and touch her cheek. “Tell me.”

  Her eyelashes flutter against her cheek and then she looks back at me with that challenging sta
re. “You’re a cold bastard.”

  I’ve heard it a thousand times before, of course. My ex-wives loved to hurl it at me, and each time they did I never felt anything but cool indifference. This time there’s a tiny pinprick of pain, like a splinter in my heart.

  “You have the emotional range of a teaspoon.”

  Don’t get angry.

  She’s just plain wrong about that. I used to feel joy, instead of a numb detachment. It’s hard when you don’t even remember what it was like.

  “I’m not a hearts-and-flowers guy, Maya.”

  But my heart rips in half when her eyes suddenly bead with tears. “This is never going to work.”

  “I’m not calling this off.”

  “Then maybe I’ll have to.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I’ll want a divorce!”

  A knife twists in my heart. “Good luck finding a lawyer who will represent you against me.”

  Her eyes widen as I take her arms and gently pin her against the wall.

  “I’m not letting you go, sweetheart. You were mine the moment I laid eyes on you.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “It’s supposed to make you stop fighting against me.”

  A gust of air leaves her mouth. “Fat chance.”

  Fucking hell.

  I grab her chin, anger flaring up inside me again. “I might not be what you want, but I’ll treat you better than any man ever has in your life. I promise. You can have anything you want. Just ask, and I’ll give it to you.”

  Maya stares at me for a long time, as though judging whether she can trust what I say. Then she walks away from me.

  Goddamn it.

  I stalk her, heat rising in my chest when she ignores my footsteps. She spins around when I grab her elbow.

  “What?”

  “Did you not hear what I fucking said?”

  My chest caves in when her eyes swim with tears. She turns away from me and wipes her face, a sob shaking from her throat. I’ve seen a lot of women cry in my time. God, the screaming fights with my ex-wives, and the wailing at funerals. The sound made me inwardly cringe, but the noise coming from Maya—that desperate intake of breath—is like a knife to my chest.

  “Please don’t—I’m sorry.”

  I’ll do anything to make her stop crying.

  “Don’t!”