Page 19 of Stolen Bride for the Don

I’m blind with rage as I run to Hudson. I hate how fucking calm he looks. What, he can handle this? Then he should handle this knife on his throat!

When I get close to him, still relaxed in his chair–as if I pose no threat to him whatsoever–he leans to the left at the last moment, making me lose my balance and embarrassingly stumble into him. He mutters a harsh curse as he grabs my arms and pulls me onto his lap.

I growl angrily at how easily he out-maneuvered me. Alex should have taught me how to fight with a knife too! With one of Hudson’s arms around my torso, his other hand crushes the one of mine still holding the knife. I’m so shocked at the pain, not really expecting him to hurt me, and the knife clatters to the floor.

He pulls both of my arms behind my back and clamps them together with one of his, completely immobilizing me. The pain of being pulled back keeps me from sliding off him. I consider head butting him, but he must recognize the look of destruction in my eyes because he pulls my arms back, causing a cry to escape my lips and effectively pressing my breasts into the air in front of his smug face. I buck and twist, trying to escape, but he’s too strong.

“Surrender, pet. I’ve got you far out strengthened,” he murmurs silkily into my ear. I see my opportunity and bite his earlobe, hard. He’s clearly shocked because he jerks away, but the motherfucker laughs. His dismissal of my strength–or lack thereof–sends my anger spiraling; and I fight even harder, panting from the exertion. Sweat drips down my spine. Hudson curses again and shoves me down onto his lap; this action does one thing only: press his hard cock between my spread thighs. Lust bolts through my entire body like lightning, blindsiding me.

“That’s it, pet. Stay still and know your master.” His one hand still holds my wrists tightly behind my back, but he’s loosened the hold, so I’m not in constant pain. He runs his free hand through my hair gently, kneading my scalp until stars explode behind my closed eyes. “Good girl,” he murmurs softly.

He goes still, and I drop my head back in what I think is a silent groan. Please tell me he didn’t hear that. The last thing his ego needs is reassurance that I’m enjoying his touch. He leans forward and runs his nose up the length of my throat. “I know you trust me, pet, when you expose yourself to me like this.” His hand continues its movement in my hair. He adjusts himself until his cock is pressing directly on my clit.

He grinds his hips into me. ”Ugghhh,” I groan into the desk, unable to stop myself from shifting my own hips, desperate for more friction. Yes, the line between anger and lust seems to be thinner than the line between hate and love.

His hand forms a fist in my hair; he releases my hands so he can grab my waist with his now free hand. I start moving on his lap. Call me a hypocrite, but my willpower is low when I’m on the verge of an orgasm. He makes a habit of taking anything and anyone he wants, so right now I’m going to indulge myself and take what I need…and what only he seems to be able to give me lately.

“You like that, pet?” he asks, voice gravelly as he pushes my hips down onto him. “Try to kill me all you want, baby. I’m not going to retaliate, but I’ll do my best to make you fucking see God. Now ride me until you get what you so clearly need.”

His words are combined with that deep raspy voice, the tight pressure of his hand in my hair, and the grip on my waist. The insistent stroke of his cock overwhelms me, and I wail his name as I come. He grinds me through my orgasm, prolonging it.

As I come down from my high, I realize that he’s still hard against me. I press my breasts against him and feel him exhale against my neck. I soon realize what I’m doing.

Fuck.

I scramble off his lap and wobble on my feet. Hudson grabs my arms to steady me. “It’s a good thing this room is soundproof, or I’d have to explain to my men why my wife-to-be screamed another man’s name while I made her come.” He winks at me.

I just blink at him incomprehensibly, but my cheek heats as his words sink in. I can’t believe that I just let him do that while we’re both still fully clothed like a couple of kids. There’s a soft knock on the door, and I jump back, startled.

“Ah, that’s Walker with your coffee, pet. But you don’t need it anymore do you?” he asks, staring at me shrewdly. I turn my back and slowly finger comb my hair, but it’s useless. My hair is too long and straight for finger combing to do anything to smooth out the knots his fist wrecked there. I pat my cheeks as I go back to my seat and resign to one of his men seeing me like this. My soaked panties stick to my core as I sit down and wince.

Hudson’s green eyes darken as he stares at me. “You look well and thoroughly fucked,” he says proudly. “Darned if I want anyone else to see you like this.” Before I can understand what he’s saying, he walks to the door and opens it just enough for him to accept the mug from whoever’s outside. Then he shuts it.

“You’ll meet Walker later when you’re more put together,” he tells me as he hands me the steaming mug of delicious-smelling coffee. I’m immensely grateful that he didn’t make me meet the man now. I might just have died of embarrassment. This man just kidnapped me less than a week ago. In fact, he told me a few minutes ago that he fully intends to go through with his threat to hurt my brother, so how could I just let him do that to me? What does that make me?

I hold the mug with two hands and drink the steaming nectar of the gods. Any tension left in my body melts as I sigh, my eyes sliding closed as I shudder. Ah, coffee, my old friend. When I open my eyes again, Hudson is watching me. He is always watching me.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

“Yes, thank you.” I murmur, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Are you embarrassed right now?” he asks and I shrug. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, pet. We’re engaged; people in our position do more, no? I won’t have my fiancée getting sexually frustrated. I’m at your disposal anytime you need to release those pent-up frustrations.”

I finally glance up at him and brush off his crass offer, “Ours isn’t exactly the normal situation of an engaged couple,” I point out, to which he shrugs dismissively.

“Do you want to talk more about the engagement, or should we pick it up later?”

I’d rather be alone to dissect everything that just happened, but isn’t prolonged contact just the thing to dissipate my embarrassment? I nod. “Yes, I’d like to talk about the details too and rules…if there are any.”

“Basically, a few of the elders in the family think it’s time for me to take a bride. They told me a week before I had secured you that I have two months to choose a wife myself or they would arrange one for me.”

I frown at him. “You’re the head of the family, no? I’d think they’d be too scared to give you an ultimatum.”

He sighs heavily and offers, “As much as I hate it, there is politics even in the mafia. I’m the head of the outfit, yes, but the heads of the family are the advisors and capos for the previous don; as such they have sway over the people in their jurisdiction. A word from them is not enough to get me out of my position, but enough to make things incredibly difficult for me.”

“Difficult, how?”

“The guys have no choice but to obey me since I’m their boss, but they could create a hitch in communication. If I’m unable to reach them, they won’t have to disobey a direct order. Do you follow?”

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