Page 32 of Married to the Mafia Devil

Her breath hitches. “She hasn’t left the apartment since.”

“I’m not surprised. That would fuck anyone up.”

“Losing someone you care about, it's like being split open. All the love, all the pain, it just spills out and there's no way to put it back the way it was before. Didn’t you feel that when your parents died?”

“I shut it all down. It was the only way to function. Everything I am, everything I've done since then, it's been to ensure that such a loss never touches me again.

“And now, there's this deal on the table that could change everything. If Petrovitch gets his hands on that land it won't just be a loss for me—it'll be a disaster. He'd have the resources to build a private army, become untouchable. I’ll never avenge my parents.”

She's silent for a moment, digesting the gravity of the situation. “Is it justice you want or revenge?”

“They’re the same thing. Power in the wrong hands is a dangerous thing. I've seen what it can do, what it can destroy. Petrovitch would destroy the city. I will not allow that. If I get richer on the way, that’s a bonus but it’s not why I do it. If he dies in the process, I won’t lose any sleep over it.”

She moves closer, a deliberate step into the space I occupy, her gaze locked with mine. “I guess we're both pretty good at keeping control, huh? Not so good at letting things go.”

The humor in her voice soothes the raw edges of my soul. “Seems so.”

Her hand finds mine, her touch electric, sparking a connection that runs deeper than the physical. I glance up at the hotel. We can’t be seen from here. A smile spreads across my lips. “Remember the safe word?”

She smiles back. “Red.”

“Good girl. Now get on all fours.”

THIRTEEN

Emma

I hesitate, the weight of Matteo's order settling over me. The cliff top garden of the exclusive hotel offers a breathtaking view, yet all I see is his intense gaze.

“Are you sure?” My voice is a whisper against the roar of the distant sea below. “What if people see?”

“They won’t,” he replies, his voice steady. “Private terrace for the owner’s use only.”

A nod is my response, an acknowledgment of the trust we've built—the trust that now leads me to comply with his command. I feel vulnerable as I position myself on all fours, the soft fabric of my sundress fluttering slightly in the breeze, Matteo's presence towering gently behind me. I thought he’d stormed off in a fury but it looks as if he’s the same as me, struggling to get used to a whole load of new feelings.

His hand, warm and reassuring, slides along my spine, settling with a gentle pressure that steadies my racing heart. “You're beautiful like this,” he murmurs.

I close my eyes, letting his voice wash over me, strong yet tender. He lifts the dress to my waist, exposing my panties to his gaze.

Then I feel it, the first spank, a test of my resolve and his restraint. It's gentler than I remember from last time, a caress more than a correction, yet it sends a ripple of unexpected warmth through me. Matteo's hand lifts again, and this time it falls with more force, a sharp contrast to the first strike, drawing a gasp that flies free into the wind.

“You gave me control,” he says. “This is how I honor your trust. With you, not against you.” He spanks me again, near the tops of my thighs.

“Don't stop,” I say, feeling the tingles growing inside me. The sun heats my skin as he peels my panties down to my thighs.

I spread my legs as much as I can, revealing my pussy to him, wanting him inside me. It’s been two weeks since that first blowjob. He’s gone down on me more times than I can count but I’ve not let him go any further.

I’m not sure if I’ve been testing his self control or my own. One thing I’m sure of is the spanking is making my control crumble away like it’s falling from the cliff, leaving only lust behind. I was a fool to think I could resist him.

Each spank heat me deeper, stirring a lust that pools low in my belly. His other hand caresses, exploring the contours of my exposed neck, down the curve of my back, his touch a soothing counterpoint to the controlled discipline of his other hand.

“You’re doing so well,” he says, his voice rough with lust. His hand moves between my legs, feeling how wet I’ve become. “Enjoying this?”

He spanks me again when I don’t answer. “I asked you a question. You will answer.”

The dichotomy of pain and pleasure, power and surrender, pushes me into a realm of sensation I've never experienced, where each stroke builds upon the last, a crescendo that's both exhilarating and terrifying in its intensity. “Yes,” I admit, glancing back at him.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” He slips a finger briefly over my clit, drawing another sharp intake of breath from me. “Answer now.”

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