Dishonorable

by Natasha Knight

  “I smell you,” he said

  Then, with his fingers on either side of the lips, he pulled me open.

  “Your pretty little pussy is dripping for me.”

  He closed his mouth over my clit again and began to suck and lick. I gripped his hair and pulled and pushed—off and on and wanting him, wanting his mouth, wanting the feel of him on me, sucking me, his tongue so soft, the stubble at his jaw so rough. It took me only moments to come, the sound I made foreign to me as I squeezed my eyes shut. He sucked hard, making me gush, draining me of everything, swallowing up my pleasure, my denial, my want, all of me, until finally, my arms fell to my sides, and I exhaled loudly, the sound more a deep sigh as Raphael straightened, wiping the back of his hand across his wet lips, smiling down at me, victorious.

  “I like the way you taste,” he said, drawing my dress further up to reveal my bra. He pushed the cups down beneath my breasts and studied me, reaching for the zipper of his jeans as he did.

  The sound of it suddenly animated me.

  “Wait!”

  He shook his head and planted one firm hand on my belly.

  “Stay.” He knelt. “Don’t you fantasize about what it will feel like?” he asked, pushing his jeans and briefs down.

  I looked at it, at his cock against his tight belly, thick and long, the tip wet. He gripped it and began to slowly pump, and when I met his gaze, he was watching me.

  “Don’t you wonder how it will feel to have my thick cock stretch your tight little cunt?”

  I swallowed. I did. Every night. Every single night as I slid my fingers between my legs, I imagined just that. And the look on his face told me he knew it.

  “You’re mine, Sofia.”

  He pumped harder as he said it, and with his other hand, he reached to tweak one nipple, hurting me, making me cry out. It only seemed to excite him more, though, as he squeezed tighter and pumped faster. I bit my lip watching him, imagining the taste of his glistening cock, my gaze moving from his dark, shining eyes to his hand moving so fast, so hard, making me want. I leaned up on my elbows, and Raphael knelt over me. A sound came from deep inside his chest, and he came, ropes of cum splattering across my belly, my pussy, my chest, and neck, warm against my nipples as he emptied on me, before falling back onto the grass, spent, drained, like me.

  I moved to cover myself, but he gripped my hand and shook his head and watched the sky.

  “There’s been a change to the contract,” he said without looking at me.

  The breeze felt suddenly cold against my skin, and I shuddered. “What change?”

  Raphael squeezed my wrist and turned to me. “We’ll be married in two days.”

  “Two days?” Why did I panic at the thought? I knew it was coming.

  He nodded. “Don’t look at me like that. At least you get to see your sister.”

  “Raphael—” I began to rise, but he stopped me. He sat up, took off his T-shirt, and began to wipe me clean. He didn’t speak as he did, and once he was finished, he pulled the dress down to cover me.

  “The change, Sofia,” he said. “It’s not the date. It’s something else.”

  I sat up, the look in his eyes a warning.

  “It’s an amendment to the contract.”

  “What amendment?” I asked, knowing what he’d tell me, what he’d agreed to, it would be a betrayal of me.

  “The marriage will be consummated.”

  Confused, I waited.

  “Your grandfather requested the change.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He wants your blood on my sheets.”

  The detachment in his tone left me cold.

  I shook my head, pulling away from him. I would consummate the marriage. I wanted it. He had to know that. But didn’t he want it? Was tonight…would he make love to me—no, he wouldn’t make love. He would fuck me. I should never make that mistake, not with him. He would fuck me to fuck my grandfather. That’s all this was about, and I’d been a fool to think otherwise even for a second.

  He stood. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

  I could only stare up at him, not believing what I was hearing.

  “One night, Sofia. You’ll survive it. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t pretend you don’t want it.”

  He reached down to grab hold of me.

  “Get away from me,” I said, scrambling backward.

  “Christ.”

  I stood, backing away. “Why didn’t you just tell me? Why humiliate me like this?” I looked at my panties discarded on the grass, and that shame I felt made my skin burn.

  “Don’t be dramatic. Let’s go.”

  “You’re going to take something that could be beautiful and make it ugly. You have no right.” I tried to process, to understand how this could be happening. “Do I repulse you?” I finally asked.

  “What?” he asked.

  I snorted, shaking my head. “You’re going to fuck me so you have bloodied sheets to prove the marriage is binding? To ensure my grandfather doesn’t contest your supposed rights to my inheritance?”

  He inhaled deeply and watched me, as if confused himself.

  “You don’t repel me. Far from it,” he said.

  “I can’t believe you. God, I am such a fool, aren’t I?”

  “Calm down, Sofia. Let’s go home.”

  “I already told you, this isn’t my home. It will never be my home. You’ve just made sure of that.”

  “All right, that’s enough.”

  He grabbed hold of my arms.

  “I hate you,” I said, tears blurring my vision. “I hate that you’re going to do this to me.”

  “It’s not like you don’t want it.”

  “I’m not talking about the fucking, you prick!”

  Without answering me, he turned, keeping hold of one of my arms and walking us back to the truck.

  “Let me go. Get off me.”

  “And what, leave you here? Call for my brother to come get you? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You two sure got close fast, Sofia.”

  I fought him the whole way back to the truck, even though it was futile.

  “Well, news flash. He’s going to be a fucking priest. He’s celibate. Or should be.”

  What the hell did that mean? “I don’t want your brother. It’s not like that.”

  “No?” He opened the driver’s side door and lifted me up, then pushed me across the bench to the passenger side. “What’s it like, then?”

  “I keep thinking you’re one way, but you’re not,” I said as he started the engine and put the car in gear.

  “Put on your seat belt.”

  “I keep thinking you’re just lost and hurt and—”

  “Well, maybe you should stop thinking that. Maybe you should just accept the fact that I am a fucking monster. That I will fuck you, so I can show your sick grandfather the bloodied sheets he wants to see.”

  “You’re both sick.” I covered my face with my hands.

  “Well, look on the bright side. One night with me and it’s done. You don’t ever have to touch me again.”

  “You’re right,” I said, not even caring he was driving too fast. “You were right all along. I shouldn’t have ever thought anything else. You are a monster. Just like your father.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Raphael

  After the evening in Civitella in Val di Chiana, I doubted Sofia would appreciate that we’d be married in the Basilica of Santa Croce in Florence, alongside the resting places of Michelangelo, Galileo and Machiavelli, before the eyes of God and a handful of witnesses and fucking throngs of tourists. Tourists were unavoidable this time of year. I could almost tolerate them.

  It had taken an exorbitant contribution to book the basilica, but it only concretized my thinking. Money was what everything came down to and that included the church. But I had to admit, this was a magnificent display of devotion and art, even if it was wasted.

  I stood at the altar, waiting for my bride. The rope
did little to keep curious visitors at bay. Beside me stood Eric as witness and another man arranged by my attorney. I didn’t know who he was. In the front pew sat Sofia’s grandfather, the great Marcus Guardia, his expression unreadable. At his side sat Lina. Smaller than Sofia but not by much. As pretty as her. The old man had kept his end of the bargain after I’d signed the amended contract. Across the aisle sat Maria. I hadn’t invited anyone else to the wedding.

  About two dozen strangers, worshippers who most likely were not expecting a wedding, dotted the other pews, giving the appearance of being guests. The priest cleared his throat and made a show of checking his watch.

  It took another five minutes before the doors were opened, and someone stepped in to signal the music. The organist began to play the wedding march, and I took a moment to straighten my tie. I’d worn black on black. It was fitting.

  Two men secured the large doors of the worshippers’ entrance. From the waning sunlight outside, I could make out the two forms, the white of the dress casting a sort of halo around Sofia. Beside her stood my brother. My fucking brother. Tall and proud in his suit, Sofia’s arm tucked into his. I could almost see him patting it, telling her it would be all right. Reassuring her when he had no business to.

  I didn’t know when she’d asked him to walk her down the aisle. I understood she didn’t want her grandfather. That made perfect sense. But this? It pissed me off, actually.

  The organist started the march again, and they took their first steps. Once they stepped fully into the church, I could make out their faces. My brother, for all his support of a few nights ago, now condemned me with his gaze. I wondered how much he knew. How much she’d told him.

  Sofia gazed at the floor. Her veil shielded her from me until she was about a third of the way down the aisle. That was when she hesitated. Damon paused too, then whispered something to her. She seemed to take a full minute to compose herself, and before my very eyes, she straightened, standing taller, her spine straighter. She looked directly at me.

  I met her gaze, felt the unnatural chill inside her eyes, accepted the accusations she threw like grenades. But she had never looked more beautiful to me than in that moment.

  The dress fit as if it were made for her, hugging her delicate curves, the antique veil with yellowing edges not quite concealing her but adding an almost ethereal air to her, to her beauty. Her hair had been intricately braided, only a few soft strands falling around her face, over her shoulder, and her golden eyes shone as if covered over by a layer of ice crystals.

  She never shifted her gaze. Never faltered again as Damon walked her toward me. As he faced her, the look they exchanged made me fist my hands at my sides. It wasn’t attraction or affection, not more than that of friendship, but it seemed as though a bond had been formed between them, and I knew in the way he looked at me, the way he looked at her, that he knew what had happened between us. What would happen still.

  I hated him for it in that moment. I hated him for having something of her that I did not. That I never would.

  My brother lifted her veil and gave her a gentle smile, a kiss on the cheek. A whispered word. I’d fucking kill him for it.

  He then turned her to me.

  Tears didn’t shine in her eyes. Her lip didn’t tremble. When she looked up at me, all I saw was hate. A hate that came from betrayal. From a budding trust destroyed.

  And in spite of it, or perhaps because of it, she took my breath away.

  I turned her toward the altar and stood quietly by her side, listening to her breathe, listening to the priest but not hearing his words. Hearing her quiet “I do.” Speaking my own. Catching the slight tremble of her hand as she handed her bouquet of blackest lilies—appropriate if not dramatic—to my brother, who remained by her side. She then faced me again, and I took her hand. From my pocket I retrieved her wedding band. A ring of thorns made of iron, black and rounded to slide onto her finger, jagged to remind her of her place.

  She looked down at it once it was fully seated on her delicate finger, and I wondered what thoughts circled her mind.

  The priest cleared his throat, and I wanted to slap him. To tell him to give her time. To let us be.

  Sofia met my gaze. I handed her my ring. She took it, and I held out my left hand. As she slid the serrated ring onto my finger, she gasped, hesitating at the sudden sight of blood, faltering.

  Her mouth fell open, her eyes wide when she met mine.

  “Do it,” I said.

  She shifted her gaze back to my hand and dragged the spiked band upward, her eyes now fixated on the lines of red that appeared along my finger. The first dark droplet fell, soiling the snow-white of her dress, and when she pulled her stained fingers away, she looked up at me again, the ice in her eyes different, less cold. Confused now. Lost.

  Lost again.

  I gripped the back of her neck and forced her attention back to the priest who had gone a little pale at the blood.

  “Finish it,” I spat.

  He met my gaze, swallowed, fumbled with his Bible—fucking idiot—and then pronounced us husband and wife.

  I kissed my bride with a hunger that would devour her. A warning to her. A promise of what would come.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sofia

  “What did you do with the ring?” I asked when we got into the car. “Your finger—”

  “It’ll heal.”

  “Why did you do that? Why would you?”

  “I thought it would be a constant reminder of you,” he said with a smile not meant to be one at all.

  “I don’t understand you.”

  “What do you have with my brother?”

  “Nothing. Are you jealous?”

  “Not jealous. Remember, truth. I want truth, always.”

  “Well, he’s not crazy. That’s one thing we have, I guess.”

  “He’s a different kind of crazy. I’m warning you now to be careful with him. You don’t know my brother.”

  “And I already like him better than you.”

  “Isn’t that a shame for you, then.”

  Silence.

  I pulled the pins holding the veil on my head off and folded it on my lap. I glanced out the tinted windows, watching as Lina and my grandfather got into another sedan. Lina looked over at our car and waved. I waved back, watching as we drove away that they followed.

  Lina had called me in a panic just days ago. She’d told me Grandfather wouldn’t bring her to the wedding. Something had changed his mind. I wondered what.

  Dinner would be catered at the house tonight, and I understood that the party at the reception would be larger than those gathered at the church. But I was surprised to find over a dozen cars parked at the house upon our arrival.

  “Who are all these people?”

  “Cousins. Business associates. Local people from the farms nearby. People I need to see, now that I’m back.”

  “Oh.” I looked into the brightly lit house, saw people moving inside. The pool area and back veranda were lit by candles and lanterns. As Raphael helped me climb out of the car, I could see tables set for dinner with pretty white tablecloths and ornate centerpieces. Black lilies. Like my bouquet. That was the only piece I’d had a say in, and I was determined to make my mark. Let him know how I saw this unholy union.

  “I arranged for your sister to stay with us for a few days,” Raphael said out of the blue.

  “What?”

  “Your sister. I know you want to spend time with her.”

  “But my grandfather—”

  “Your grandfather is welcome to leave whenever the hell he wants. She’s staying. I arranged it,” he said, cutting me off. “I told you I wouldn’t be a beast to you.”

  “Why?”

  “Why won’t I be a beast?”

  “Why would you do that for me?”

  “Just say thank you,” he said as we rounded the corner. All heads turned to us.

  “Thank you.”

  I didn’t have a chance to
say more because we were swept up by the crowd, too many people I didn’t know coming to us, congratulating us in Italian, kissing my cheek, handing us envelopes I hadn’t expected. As if this were a real wedding.

  Raphael smiled beside me, talking to people, hugging some, shaking hands with others. He seemed relaxed, more relaxed than I’d ever seen him. And he never took his hand from my back, keeping me close to him, introducing me to too many people, none of whom I’d remember.

  My sister and grandfather had arrived. Damon stood with Lina. Grandfather hovered behind her like a dark shadow. I shuddered at the image but was distracted when I was handed a champagne glass and someone made a toast.

  I looked at Raphael, who seemed to watch me through it all, as if one eye were constantly on me.

  “Drink,” he said.

  I did.

  An extravagant dinner followed, only breaking up when coffee was served. Raphael and I greeted more guests who had come after the dinner. An SUV with tinted windows, including the windshield, driving onto the property caught my eye. Raphael stiffened beside me. When three men in suits descended, I turned to ask him who they were.

  “Go inside with your sister,” he said, barely looking at me. Dismissing me even.

  “Raphael—”

  “Go.”

  He nodded to Eric, giving him an order in Italian. Eric glanced at me with a tight smile.

  “Take your sister and go inside, Sofia. I have to take care of some business.”

  I didn’t even have time to ask a question before he walked away to greet the men. I went to my sister, feeling my grandfather’s eyes on me but unable to look at him.

  “Lina,” I said, drawing her away and into the house. “Raphael arranged for you to stay here for a few days.”

  “I know. Grandfather told me he agreed. Said it was your wedding gift.”

  “I’m so glad.”

  “Me too. You look really beautiful by the way. You make a really good-looking couple.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “You’ll make beautiful babies too.”