by J. L. Beck
“Oh, god…”
“Tell me where he is, tell me, baby, tell me, so I can fill your ass with my fucking cum…” Pleasure becomes pain as he pinches the tiny nub.
“Julian,” I whimper, thrashing against the sheets, making his cock go deeper and rub against something incredible in my ass. “I… I can’t take it anymore… I can’t come again.” My body is aching, my core clenching around nothing.
“You can, and you will. You’ll keep coming until you tell me; Until you can’t walk, or until I’ve decided you’ve been punished enough. Now take my cock in your ass.” He thrusts harder, and my eyes roll to the back of my head.
With his cock in my ass, and his fingers on my clit, I’m overwhelmed. The feeling is so intense that I don’t know how long I can take it.
Then he grabs a fistful of hair and tugs my head backward.
Like an addict, I crave his touch, and when he pinches my clit again, the pain and pleasure collide so profoundly. I come one last time. It’s quick and powerful like a punch, but then it leaves my clit so sensitive that it almost hurts.
No, not almost… it hurts. It’s too much. I try to pull away, try to close my thighs, but Julian’s fingers are relentless. My whole body jerks as if I’m getting zapped, but Julian just holds me down more, his hand on the back of my neck, pressing me down into the mattress.
I feel like I’m about to implode, and that’s when I know he’s won.
“The beach house… he’ll be at the beach house,” I cry out.
His fingers leave my clit, and relief washes over me a moment before the guilt hits me.
He crests a moment later, filling my ass with his sticky semen and collapsing on top of me.
Kissing my shoulder, he whispers, “Good girl.”
“We used to go there when I was a kid,” I admit shamefully. “Please, don’t kill him.”
“I have to.”
“Please, don’t, I can’t be with the man who kills the only family I have left.”
“And I can’t let the man live who killed mine.”
34
Julian
At my words, she goes completely silent. I didn’t even mean to say it. My confession just slipped out. That doesn’t take away the honesty of my words, though.
Pushing up and off her body, I move to sit on the edge of the bed. My cock is still hard, sliding out of her tight little asshole. She doesn’t move as I get up and start undoing her handcuffs. Free, she continues to lie on her stomach even as I go into the bathroom and retrieve a washcloth to clean her up.
She whimpers as I move the warm cloth between her legs but doesn’t say anything. When she is clean, I roll her over onto her back, so I can look at her face. Her eyes collide with mine, and I see the whirlwind of emotions reflecting back at me. Inside her depths, I could drown a thousand times over. She wears her emotions like a sweater for the world to see.
Confusion, apprehension, fear. She is digesting what I told her. Trying to wrap her mind around her father killing someone I loved.
“He killed your family?” she finally asks.
“He killed my mother… and the baby she was carrying.”
Her big blues go wide and tears well over, cascading down the sides of her cheeks. I watch the droplets, hating that she is crying for me.
“I can’t imagine him doing something like that.”
Anger rears its ugly head. “I can assure you, he did. He killed her. He even admitted to it.” I’m trying my best not to be enraged over the fact that she is defending her father, but it’s hard, so hard, especially after the way he ran when she fell, if he was half the man she thinks he is, he would’ve come to her rescue. “He’s not a good man, Elena,” I add.
“Neither are you,” she rebuts, and I can’t argue with that.
“I know I’m not. I’ve never claimed to be either. Still, there are lines even I won’t cross. I would never kill a pregnant woman. There is no point in arguing about this. Your father will die, whether you like it or not, and I’ll be the one to end him.”
Anguish washes over her face. “Maybe it’s a mistake? Or maybe it was an accident?”
“It wasn’t. Your father is not the man you think he is. You know he told everyone your mother died in a car crash? He’s a liar and a murderer. And don’t forget that he sold you to me, a man that he knows hates him.”
“Yes, and you bought me! Let’s not forget that, either. You bought me like an item on the shelf in the store. Then you locked me in this room and chained me to your bed! You kill people, you lie, and steal. You’re just as much of a criminal as he is.”
Every muscle in my body quakes, I’m so fucking angry. Angry with her for taking his side. Angry with her father for killing my mother. And angry with myself for letting all of this happen. Unfortunately for Elena, she is the only one here to direct my anger at.
“You can say just about anything you fucking want to me, but do not fucking compare me to him! I’m nothing like your father,” I say through clenched teeth. My hands are balled up into fists so tight, my nails dig into my palms painfully to ebb some of the rage away.
Her beautiful face goes ghostly pale, and her mouth pops open like she is about to say something, but no sound comes out. There is nothing for her to say, and even if there was, I’m past the point of reasoning.
“I don’t care what you say. I will kill your piece of shit, father. I will marry you, and you will be mine. You will obey me and do as I say, or I will chain you to the bed for the rest of your fucking life. Don’t tempt me, Elena. If you want to see how big of a monster I can be, then just try and stop me.”
Grabbing my pants off the floor, I slip into them and storm out of the room, slamming the door with a ferociousness that makes the walls shake. My fingers shake, and rage boils over as I slide the lock into place and walk down the hall and away from her. I need a breather to get away before I do something I can’t take back.
After pounding my fists against the punching bag in the gym for an hour and taking a cold shower in the guest room, I feel somewhat composed.
I was harsh with Elena earlier, maybe too harsh, but I needed her to see her father for who he truly was. I need her to accept that I will be the one to end her father’s life, and I refuse to feel bad about that. She should hate him for leaving her lying limp against the floor at the bottom of the stairs, for selling her to me, but it seems she is far more loyal than I ever expected her to be.
In time, she will understand.
Before I go back to the room, I stop at my office and call Father Petro. It’s late, and I know my call might wake him, but I don’t have the patience to wait until tomorrow morning to call and discuss our union of marriage.
“Hello?” he answers after it rings for what seems like a long time.
“Father Petro, this is Julian Moretti. I apologize for the late-night call, but I need you to come to my estate tomorrow morning. The wedding you were to perform three weeks ago is going to be taking place. It can’t wait any longer.”
“I understand,” he murmurs, and I can almost see him nodding his head through the phone. “I’ll be there at nine in the morning, is that good?”
“Perfect. Have a good night, Father.” Ending the call, I feel a little bit lighter than before. Scribbling on a sticky note, I head back down the stairs and stop in the kitchen and leave a note for Celeste and Marie to be prepared for a ceremony on the terrace right before breakfast. I already informed Lucca about the changes, which means everything is set in place.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow Elena will become my wife.
She’ll be bound to me until death, bound by an unbreakable vow.
I hold onto that thought, letting it calm me when I enter our bedroom a short while later. Elena lies on the bed, the lamp on the nightstand on. The soft glow illuminates the entire room. My eyes move without will to her form, which is wrapped in a blanket.
The washcloth and handcuffs are on the floor next to the bed, a reminder of what I did to her
earlier—my cock twitches in my shorts at the memory. I didn’t expect her to come from anal, especially since it was her first time, but fuck me if it wasn’t the hottest damn thing. It’s nothing more but another reminder of how perfect she is.
No other woman will ever be able to compete with her, which is why she will be mine. Forever. Starting tomorrow.
“I know you’re not asleep,” I say as I strip out of my shorts and T-shirt.
“I never said I was,” she snaps without looking up at me. “What else am I supposed to do besides lie in bed if you lock me in the room?”
Smirking at her response, I slip into the bed beside her. Her body stiffens as I pull her into my chest. She actually tries to push me away, but that only makes me hold her tighter. Burying my face in her hair, I breathe deeply, letting her succulent scent ease the rolling hills of anger away. Every time I see her, I think of her father, and I’m reminded that he is out there still living, breathing, and that I have failed to make good on my honor to my mother.
“We’re getting married tomorrow, in the morning,” I whisper into her ear.
“What? Tomorrow?” She squeaks.
“Yes. You’re gonna wake up in the morning, put on your wedding dress, and walk your sweet –not so virgin ass– downstairs and become my wife.”
“Is my father going to come?”
“No. No, guests will be here. It will be just us.”
There is a long moment of silence, and I’m almost sad that there isn’t another fight. The idea of subduing her with sex again makes my cock harden once more.
“Why did you even want to marry me if my father really did kill your mother?” Her question makes everything evaporate, and all over again, I’m on edge. It’s too close to the truth. I don’t want her to find out, not yet.
“I wanted you from the moment I saw you at your mother’s funeral.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either.
“And it doesn’t bother you that I’m his daughter?”
“No, I don’t care where you came from. I only care that you are with me now. You’re a Moretti now, my wife, my queen, the woman who will carry and birth our heirs.”
Another moment of silence stretches on before she interrupts the silence with another question.
“Are you still planning on killing my father when you find him?”
“Yes.”
“How can you expect me to say my vows if I know this? If I know the man that will be my husband, plans to kill my father?”
“I don’t care how you do it, but you will do it, nevertheless. Two things have never been truer. You will become my wife tomorrow morning, and your father will die at my hands. When? I don’t know, but it will happen, and if you do anything to try and stop me…” I don’t have to threaten her further. She knows what will happen if she doesn’t do what I want. I wish I didn’t have to force her hand. I wish she would simply say her vows because she wants to.
The only thought that eases my mind is knowing that one day, she will cherish our vows. She will understand eventually that this is the right thing to do.
She will see that I was only doing this for us, for her.
Her father doesn’t love her. If he did, he wouldn’t have given her to me.
35
Elena
Staring at my reflection, a feeling of surrealness washes over me. I thought Julian was drunk when he came into the bedroom last night and said we were getting married, but as it turns out, he wasn’t drunk, nor lying. Here I stand, in a wedding dress, and I’m about to get married to a man who bought me for ten million dollars. A man, I foolishly thought I could love. He knows nothing of love. This is all revenge, that’s all it is. He doesn’t want me the way I want him. It’s a façade, a mirage. I keep telling myself maybe he’ll forget about finding my father, but I know better. He won’t stop till he’s dead.
“Are you ready?” Julian calls through the closed bathroom door, and my thoughts slip away like grains of sand through an hourglass.
“Yes,” I yell back at him. Carefully, I step toward the door and open it just enough to peek through the crack. “Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride in her dress?”
“I didn’t see you in your dress on our first wedding day, and you saw how well that worked out.” He purses his lips.
I guess he’s right. What could possibly happen that hasn’t already?
Pulling the door open all the way, Julian’s entire body comes into view. He’s standing a few feet away from me in a fitted tux. He looks sharp, roguish, and dangerous. My mouth goes dry, and I swallow my tongue, afraid that it might slip out like a dog’s when it pants. His sea-blue eyes take me in from head to toe, drinking the image before him up.
“You look… breathtaking.” He licks his lips, and I’m taken aback by how genuine his compliment is. There’s a kind of adoration in his tone that I’ve never heard before. It’s especially surprising after all the things he told me last night and the abrupt way he left and returned to tell me we were getting married.
Sometimes, I think Julian has a split personality. Or maybe he is just a monster inside, and this caring version of him is a façade. Either way, I’m about to marry him. Marry him and all of his sides, the dark one that’s front and center and the kind one that no one ever gets a glimpse of.
“Come. Father Petro is waiting for us,” he offers me his arm. I close the distance between us and loop my arm into his and shiver when my hand brushes against his.
My stomach churns like I’m on a rollercoaster. I’m about to get married.
Julian leads me down the stairs, holding me extra tight as we walk down the long staircase. When we reach the bottom step, I almost sigh. Maria comes around the corner, and my thoughts shift.
“Oh, Elena. You look stunning,” she beams, looking me up and down. “Here, I made you this.” She hands me a beautiful bouquet of flowers.
“Thank you, Marie.” I smile happily, grateful that she is here. At least I have one friend present at my wedding. One person, I would have invited regardless of when it took place.
Julian dismisses Marie with a wave of his hand, and I have to grind my teeth together to stop myself from saying something to him. I don’t understand his distaste for her. Yes, she is his employee, but she is a human as well. Hopefully, with our union of marriage, I will get a say in how things are run around the mansion.
We continue our walk through the house, and it feels very much like we’re walking to the cemetery to lay someone to rest. Reaching the terrace, Julian opens the French doors and the cool morning air kisses my skin.
As soon as we step outside, I forget about everything. All my worries, fears, and anxiety over marrying Julian fade away. There is a white woven arch set up at the edge of the terrace, white roses are braided into it. The entire thing is picturesque and whimsical.
Behind it, the sun is sitting in the center of the bright blue sky, illuminating the magical scene. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect. Dragging my eyes away from the décor, I find the priest is already standing under the arch, a friendly smile gracing his lips as we walk up and stop in front of him.
I never expected my wedding to happen this way. I always thought my father would walk me down the aisle and give me away. Even though I never imagined it going this way, I have to admit, it’s beautiful.
While the priest performs the ceremony, Julian holds onto my free hand with an iron grip while I clutch onto the bouquet with the other.
Father Petro reads a few passages from the bible about cherishing and protecting each other. I wonder if our marriage will ever be that of others. Bursting with love and joy. I hope those things can find their way into our marriage.
After we each say our vows, which are generic ones, we repeat after Father Petro. We exchange wedding bands at the very end, and my fingers shake as I slide the silver wedding band onto Julian’s finger. I think I’m going to be sick. I can’t believe I’m married.
“I, hereby, pronounce you husba
nd and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”
Julian turns to face me, looking every bit as intimidating as he was the night he showed up in my father’s office. Turning, I do the same and swallow thickly as I lift my gaze and meet his. He’s watching me like I’m his prey, and I guess in a way I am.
Lowering his head, he leans in and presses his lips to mine, sealing our fates with a kiss. The kiss is gentle and kind, completely unlike anything I would expect, then again, Julian officially owns me now. I am Mrs. Moretti.
“Congratulations.” Father Petro smiles as we break the kiss. My lips are burning, and my entire body is trembling.
“Thank you,” Julian whispers and grabs my hand, clutching it tightly like he is worried that I’ll run away. He guides us down the steps and toward the pool, where I see a table is set up with a variety of fruits, pastries, and other breakfast items.
“Mrs. Moretti,” Julian smirks as he helps me into my chair.
“What happens next?” I ask, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Did he find my father already? Is he going to spring it on me at any second? Guilt gnaws away at my insides. I’m married, and my father wasn’t even here to witness it.
“Now we have breakfast and get ready for our honeymoon.”
“Honeymoon?” I try not to sound as shocked as I feel. “We’re going on a honeymoon?”
Julian smiles, showing off his sparkly white teeth. “Yes, we’re staying at a private beach house on a secluded beach, where we will spend the next thirty days together. I want to give you some freedom and let you enjoy yourself. I think it will be good for us and give us a chance to get to know each other a little more as well.”
It’s like I’ve woken up in another dimension. I can’t believe what I am hearing, and for a brief second, I simply stare at him in awe.
“You seem shocked, perhaps you would rather be locked in our bedroom?”
“No…” I blurt out and reach for the glass of orange juice while Julian grabs my plate and fills it with food. “I’m just surprised is all. After the way things ended last night, I didn’t expect something like this…”