I’m just about to accept the out he’s given me and run, when my gaze falls to the phone in his hand. He’s had it out this entire time, idly spinning it in one hand. Suddenly, my rudimentary plans don’t seem good enough. Not without assurance that I’ll find help once I’m off this island.
“Actually,” I reply, coming farther into the room and pushing the door behind me. It doesn’t close all the way, but it’s enough to make me feel safe from intrusion. “Do you mind if I use your phone? I left mine upstairs and I just need to make a quick call.”
Viktor doesn’t seem to find my request odd, and I nearly cry with relief when he extends the phone to me without question. “Of course. Anything for the lady of the house.”
The phone is unlocked, and as I open the keypad to dial Tracy’s number my hands begin to shake. I feel like I’m going to faint from the shock of how easy this is. I haven’t touched a phone aside from the messages Diego has allowed me to send, and here Viktor has just placed one in my hands—a lifeline, a way out.
I never get to dial. Just before I do, a crashing sound scares me nearly out of my skin. I jump and spin, the phone clattering to the floor as I find Diego and two of his men filling the doorway.
My fake fiancé looks a lot like the man I first met those few months ago, his face tight and strained with fury, his bulky frame seeming to eclipse the light and take up all the space in the room. His eyes are black and glittering as he glares at Viktor, then sets his sights on me.
“What’s this?” he says, his voice giving no hint to the rage I see sparking in his eyes. “Here I was worried that my fiancée wasn’t feeling well, and when I come to check on her this is what I find.”
Viktor is oblivious to the danger we’re both in, striding forward to scoop up his phone. “Relax, moy drug. Your lady only asked to use my phone. Nothing happened.”
Diego is staring at me now, ignoring Viktor and choosing to pin me to the spot instead. I’m trembling, fear smothering the confidence I started the evening with. There’s no way out of this for me, and we both know it. It might have been better for Diego to find me naked and straddling Viktor rather than catching me with a phone in my hands.
“Elena has her own phone, and she can use mine if she needs to make a call,” Diego says without taking his eyes off me. “Get the fuck out of my house. I don’t want to see your face again for the rest of the night.”
Viktor scoffs and rolls his eyes but obeys without argument. He’s smarter than me, knowing not to rattle a pissed-off tiger’s cage.
“Elena has a headache and needs to go lie down,” Diego says to his men. “Escort her to our room and make sure she stays there.”
Even with no one else around to witness this, he’s talking as if everything that’s happening here is normal. As if he’s really sending his sick fiancée off to bed. I can’t stand it.
“Diego.”
“Be quiet,” he growls. “Don’t say a word right now, or you’ll make this worse on yourself. Go upstairs and wait for me. I’ll deal with you when I’m ready.”
A quick flash of defiance shoots through me, but I smother it. I’ve never seen Diego like this, not even the night I tried to shoot him. He’s at his most frightening when containing the monster behind the thinnest veil.
Without a word, I follow the men into the hallway. The music and laughter of the ballroom fades away as we walk toward another door that leads into the main part of the house. Being out of Diego’s sight offers me no relief. If anything, it spikes my anxiety higher not knowing what’s coming and when to expect it. For all I know, Diego plans to finish out the party, passing around the lie of my headache.
Once I’m inside the room, Diego’s men leave and lock the door behind them from the outside. Turning in a slow circle, I take in the proof that there is now no way out. The windows are boarded over so well I’ll hurt my hands trying to get out that way. Diego chose new hiding places for his guns after I pulled the pistol from his nightstand. Even if I found one, I can’t use it well enough to get myself out of here. There’s nothing left to do but wait.
One of the maids has been here, making the bed, tidying up, and placing the jeweler’s box on the nightstand on my side of the bed. I slip out of my heels and unclasp the necklace, carefully returning it to the box.
By the time I take down my hair and remove my makeup, Diego arrives. I find him sitting on the bed when I emerge from the bathroom, still wearing my gown.
He rests his hands on the mattress, his finger tattoos prominent as he squeezes as if hanging on for dear life. Diego stares at me through the strands of hair falling into his eyes, his mouth a grim line. His voice resounds through the room like a shotgun blast when he finally speaks.
“Take off your clothes.”
20
Diego
Elena trembles while slipping the straps of her dress over her shoulders, looking at me like she’s expecting a fit of rage at any moment. Interestingly, I’m in complete control right now—calm and resolved. The moment I followed Elena’s voice into that storage room and found her holding Viktor’s phone, I knew where I had gone wrong. I knew what I needed to do to end any notions she might have of getting away from me. Before now, I had told myself extreme measures weren’t necessary; Elena would adjust to the idea of belonging to me and submit. But I underestimated my feisty gatita, and didn’t account for the defiance that seems to be a part of her very soul. In many ways that brazenness is what draws me to her, and makes me want to be incinerated by her fire. However, in a situation like this the rebellion needs to be stomped out. She needs to understand that she can never win against me.
Elena clenches her hands as she stands in front of me wearing nothing but sheer white panties that show me the landing strip of dark hairs leading to her pussy. Her nipples are hard, her breasts shaped like teardrops. She’s so perfect it almost hurts to look at her, but that pain is soothed by knowing such beauty belongs to me, to enjoy as I see fit. Tonight, I had planned to be gentle with Elena, thank her with my body for surrendering to the inevitable. I wanted to slowly remove her clothes and kiss every inch of her. I wanted to make her come over and over so she understood that our marriage didn’t have to be perfect if it could feel so good.
Those plans were tossed out when I found Elena with Viktor and a cell phone in her hand—violating two of my rules. I warned her that bad girls get punished, and now she’s about to find out just what I’m capable of.
Elena moves to take off her panties, but I stop her by raising one hand.
“Keep those on and come here.”
Maybe she can hear by my tone that I mean business, because she doesn’t hesitate. She holds my gaze with a courage that makes me proud, though it won’t stop me from giving her what she’s due.
I hook my fingers into one side of her panties and jerk them down, keeping eye contact as I sink to my knees and drag them down her legs. The scent of Elena is intoxicating—a blend of perfume, fear, and arousal. My mouth waters for a taste. But first, her punishment.
She steps out of the panties, and I stand, jerking my head toward the bed.
“On your hands and knees.”
Her throat convulses with a swallow and her chin trembles, but she does what she’s told. I take my time approaching the bed, enjoying the sight of Elena’s upturned ass, and the flash of pink flesh showing from between her lower lips. Elena flinches when I lay a hand on one ass cheek, then trail it down the back of her thigh.
“I won’t waste time with talk. We both know why this is happening. I want you to remember that I tried to make this easier for you. I tried, gatita, but you still don’t know when to admit that you’ve been beaten.”
Instead of the profanities and defiance I was expecting, Elena turns to look at me over her shoulder, eyes filled with tears. “Please, Diego, I … I understand now, okay? I won’t do it again.”
I trail my fingertip up the inside of her thigh, then stroke the pretty, delicate folds of her pussy. “This is partl
y my fault too. I didn’t make myself clear enough. You belong to me now, Elena, and nothing will change that. Now … eyes down and hold very still.”
I go back to playing with her, stroking and petting and drawing a sheen of moisture from inside her. The fear is heightening her excitement, making her hot and wet and yearning. Slipping one finger inside her, I close my eyes and savor the feel of Elena, imagining this silky tightness around my cock. Elena lets out a soft sigh when I add another finger and start pumping in and out, reaching as deep as I can. I don’t think she means to arch her back and sway into my strokes, but the wants of her body are taking over her rational mind.
Keeping my fingers inside her, I use my other hand to jerk open my belt and slide it through the loops. Elena is panting now, her legs trembling as I add the touch of my thumb to her clit. She’s close to climax; I can feel it in the spasms of her cunt around me and hear it in her every harsh breath.
“Don’t come,” I command her. “Not yet. First, you will receive your punishment. Then I’ll let you come.”
She sucks in a deep breath and her body stiffens, and I know she’s fighting her orgasm with everything she has. She’s so close, and I almost want to force her over the edge, but I stay my hand. I’ve been starving her of release on purpose, but tonight she will come harder than she ever has.
“Remember not to move.”
My words are the only warning she gets before I pull my fingers free and swing the belt with my other hand. Her right ass cheek blushes pink and she gasps before letting out a choked cry of agony. I quickly inflict another blow on the opposite cheek, painting it pink as well. This time she lurches onto her belly, her face buried in the comforter as she screams.
“Up, gatita. I’m not finished.”
Her limbs shake, and she sniffles while getting back into position. Noticing how stiff her back is, I run a hand soothingly over it, urging her to relax. It’ll go much easier for Elena if she does. Two more blows come back-to-back, the flick of my wrist allowing the belt to lick from left to right. Elena sobs, and I can hear more cries trapped behind her lips. Her ass is cherry red now, but her pussy is as wet as it was before, shimmering and begging for my cock.
“You belong to me now … say it,” I demand with another swing of the belt.
“I … I belong t-to you now,” she whimpers, hanging her head.
“Say my name,” I urge, another swing punctuating my words. “I’m yours, Diego.”
I deliver four more licks without stopping, and Elena’s wails echo off the walls. She falls onto her elbows, her face pressed against the bed. Light welts show on her skin, like perfect paintbrush strokes leaving the proof of my possession. My cock throbs as I stare at my handiwork, the most depraved parts of me turned on by her screams, her pain.
“Tell me you won’t try to run again,” I say, flicking the belt at the back of one thigh, then the other. “Tell me you will stay.”
“I … ah! I’ll stay … I swear, I’ll stay.”
“I don’t believe you,” I growl, because I can still hear that thread of resistance in her voice. I can’t afford to let it slide. “Make me believe you.”
Her next scream breaks off on a choked sob when I hit her again, this time angling the belt so it strikes both her cheeks at once. She’s full-on crying now, her body shaking as she hiccups out strained breaths.
“I’m sorry!” she cries. “Please, I … I was afraid! The engagement, the wedding … all of it scared me so badly, Diego.”
I lower the belt, finally hearing the resignation in her voice that I was looking for—a sign that she realizes she has no choice but to give in.
“So, you decided to go to Viktor? Did you think he would be your savior?”
“I didn’t go looking for him … it was a coincidence. I saw he had a phone and …”
“And you risked making me angry by doing what I told you not to do.”
“It won’t happen again,” she replies, her voice low and pleading. Broken.
“No, gatita, it won’t.”
I raise the belt again and finish dishing out her punishment, lashing her ass until it glows and she’s shaking and whimpering in a hoarse voice. She flinches with each strike, but never moves or tries to shy away from the belt. Her head remains lowered, and even the clench of her toes has relaxed. The pain has reached its threshold and she’s in another place now—one of heat and light and pure sensation. She’s right where I need her to be.
Dropping the belt, I loosen my tie and start unbuttoning my shirt. My skin is damp with sweat and burning up, my blood rushing through my veins so fast it makes me slightly dizzy. The satisfaction Elena’s position brings me is intoxicating, and I can’t seem to get enough of it. I’d keep her like this all night if I thought she could handle it.
Elena issues a soft, pitiful moan when I slip my fingers back inside her. She’s soaking wet and pulsing around my knuckles, her clit swollen and needy.
“That’s it,” I murmur, using my other hand to massage one hot, reddened ass cheek. “Let me make you feel good now.”
She spreads her knees wider, accepting me with a low sigh. I curl my fingers and search Elena’s inner walls for her g-spot. She cries out when I find it, bucking and leaning back into my hand.
“Are you close?” I ask her, even though I already know the answer. I’m surprised she’s lasted this long. “Are you going to come?”
“Y-yes,” she stammers, sounding surprised at the realization. “Oh, God … please!”
I slow my strokes, squeezing her abused ass until she squeals. “Not yet, gatita. Your orgasms belong to me, remember? Say it.”
“My orgasms belong to you,” she repeats, an edge of impatience in every word. She’s shaking with the effort it’s taking to keep her climax at bay, and it only makes me want to torment her more.
Elena is perfect for this—for me. Her strength and backbone makes her able to handle my punishment, but secret sexual cravings make her like the pain as well as the pleasure—the depravity as well as the desire.
She makes a low sound of annoyance when I pull my fingers out of her, raising her ass in a clear invitation for me to come back. But I can’t wait any longer. This woman has the power to unravel my control like no one else, and I’ve spent the last two months dreaming about taking her in every conceivable way, drowning completely in her. Fighting it hasn’t worked, so I’m giving in. Elena is mine and I can’t let her go. I won’t go on without continual access to the object of my obsession.
Climbing up behind her, I lick my fingers clean of her juices, my balls aching. “You taste so good, gatita. One night I’ll lick you until you come against my tongue, over and over, all night. But right now …”
I tear my pants open push down my black briefs. Taking hold of my cock, I press it against her folds.
“Do you want my cock?” I tease, circling my swollen, sensitive head over her clit.
She moans and pushes back against me, but doesn’t reply with words. That isn’t enough for me.
I work my cock over her folds, soaking myself in wetness and enjoying the feel of her. “Tell me what you want, Elena. Beg me to fuck you.”
Her sounds of pleasure turn into those of frustration, and she starts pushing back to me, trying to temp me into slipping inside. Elena has no idea how determined I am to own her completely, how willing I am to torment her until she gives in on her own accord. Her admission during the spanking was a submission to my will; now I need her to concede her body.
“I’m waiting,” I urge, giving her ass a light slap.
She gasps, pain and pleasure coming together as I continue pushing and stroking against her—teasing but never giving her what she really wants.
“Please,” she whispers. “Fuck me.”
Tension melts from my body as she destroys the last barrier holding me back. My tattooed hands frame her ass as I pull her back into me and thrust, filling her with my cock. My low groan harmonizes with her sharp cry, our bodies coming togeth
er with my cock embedded fully inside her. The tight clench of her is exquisite, and I rest inside Elena to let her adjust. Her pussy throbs around me, her juices soaking me in her arousal.
Tightening my hold on her ass, I pull out and push in again, hard enough that the strike of my thighs against hers sounds audibly through the room. She moans and grips the sheets tight, swaying back into my next thrust and rolling her hips.
“Fuck,” I groan, catching her rhythm and falling into it. She feels so fucking good, so right. I could come right now but I hold back, not ready to let go of such intense pleasure.
I stare down at where our bodies are joined, watching the hypnotic bounce of her ass against me and the glisten of her wetness on my dick.
“That’s so good, Elena,” I rasp, stroking my hands up her body and under it to cup her breasts. “So fucking good. That’s my girl … my good girl.”
Elena is lost, no longer fighting what she feels, what she wants … what only I can give her. She moves with me, taking every inch and begging for more with her wild moans. I pinch her nipples until I know they ache, then sooth them with gentle tugs. Another flood of wetness is my reward, and the slick sounds of us coming together and separating cranks me up even more.
“Diego … I … oh, God!”
“Yes, gatita. Let go. Give me all of you.”
She’s trembling again, and I realize that I am too. The intensity of what’s happening is beyond what I imagined, and she doesn’t have to tell me it’s the same for her.
“I need to come,” she pleads. “Please let me come.”
I can’t resist her now. She’s been so good, so strong. I want her to come, and I want it to be spectacular.
Snatching the belt up, I loop it around her neck—careful that the buckle isn’t near her most vulnerable, thin skin. I wrench her upward, holding the belt just tight enough to slow the blood flow to her head. She takes short, panting breaths, her back arched as far as it will go and her head tipped back until she can look into my eyes.
Marrying the Mobster: American Gangsters 1 (Leave Me Breathless) Page 16