Page 38 of The Councilor

I pushed both knees down, taking absolute control. When I snapped my fingers against her pussy lips, she jerked up for the third time. Only this time, her natural instinct was to reach out, managing to scratch my face.

The growl I issued only pushed guttural sounds from deep in her chest. “You don’t own me.”

Her repetitive comment was understood but she’d soon learn the truth.

There was no reason to say anything else, to push back on her statement. Actions did speak louder than words.

I tongue fucked her relentlessly, concentrating on what I was doing. So sweet. So hot.

She undulated and moaned, the combination utterly perfect. As she shifted into a level of quiet I wasn’t used to, I looked up at her face.

The shimmer on her face illuminated her spirit. The way her mouth twisted allowed me to know she wasn’t used to being pleasured in the least.

As her entire body tensed all over again, I buried my face into her pussy. I was quickly rewarded with an intense orgasm, the whimpers she issued unlike anything I’d heard before. Another toss of gasoline onto the fire.

Her cry rising to the rooftops included a single stifled scream and she threw her arm across her face once again. One climax wasn’t enough for me and I pushed for more, rewarded only a few seconds later.

The moment she started to come down from the rapture of ecstasy, I pressed my lips against one inner thigh then the other before easing back.

Raphaella was completely rattled, still shaking all over.

I’d expected her to be speechless, uncertain what to say to me but when she suddenly jumped down from the counter, immediately cracking her hand across my face, true shock settled in.

“How dare you. You took advantage of me. A contract of slavery might have been signed between two horrible parties, but I wasn’t asked. I wasn’t allowed to provide my opinion and neither one of you seem to care my entire world was uprooted. I hateyou, Aleksander. You may claim my body, but you’ll never get any further.”

The words didn’t bother me but her inability to realize not only that the deal was done but the ways of mafia families was infuriating.

When she punched me in the gut before trying to run away, I’d had enough of her childish antics. I gripped both arms, tossing her stomach down over the edge of the counter.

“I’ve tried to be nice to you, Raphaella. I’ve attempted to understand what you might be feeling but this behavior can’t stand. You’re a smart girl. You thoroughly understand your father was given no choice. That’s because he started a war in our backyard despite several warnings. I wish things could be different, but unless you’d like seeing your entire family slaughtered because of your father’s work, I suggest you learn to accept you are the only person who can keep a war from ensuing. A unified front is the only way to do that.”

I heard the way she sucked in her breath. Perhaps putting everything into a harsher perspective was exactly what she needed.

However, I was about to give her a strong reminder that in this case, I was trying to save hundreds of lives.

Including her own.

CHAPTER 12

“Organized crime constitutes nothing less than a guerilla war against society.”

—Lyndon B. Johnson

Raphaella

There was no real reason for the quote to slide into my mind, but it did immediately after Aleksander had issued a statement of dominance. The quote was something I’d heard in history lessons years before. It was also a phrase my father had joked about in private with his most trusted men. I remember retorting something back to him, even daring to laugh.

The one thing you didn’t do was laugh at my father.

Aleksander had licked me. My God in heaven. He’d stripped away another moment of my innocence.

And I’d loved every second of it, acting like some wanton hussy by shoving my pussy into his face. I wasn’t easy and had never been, but I’d managed to find a way to let myself go.

I continued pushing up from the counter with one hand while I touched my face with the other. I’d forgotten all about the fact my thoughtlessness had resulted in my father cracking his backhand across my cheek.

In front of his men. I’d tried to forget about the humiliating moment, but I should have realized then my father was an evil man.

Pleasure continued to roll through me even as Aleksander detailed the fact he was going to spank me. To keep me in line? To assert his authority over me? Was this all about molding me into his submissive wife?

---