Page 31 of Captive Mafia Wife

I push her hair back from her radiant face to take her in. “I want to flip you over right now, spank your ass, punish you again.”

“Why?” she gasps.

I bring my lips to her ears, nipping her lobe. “For making me want to fuck you until you no longer remember your name."

Shocked and ready to come, she draws in a tight breath, her entire body tensing as she squeezes her eyes shut tight, clenches her jaw, and throws her head back. I love the feel of her hands on my shoulders, clinging to me, begging me to give her what she needs. I love the heat of her body against me, the smell of her, the sound she makes as she comes, the taste of the curve of her neck as I bite her skin lightly just as she orgasms.

I almost come along with her, the biggest turn-on being the fact that I’m the only man on this earth who can touch her like this, smell her, hear her sounds, and make her come.

The power is intoxicating.

I kiss her again to ease her out of the climax.

She stops me, standing quickly, pulling up her panties and tugging down her dress. She smooths her hair, shaking it free over her back. Locking eyes with me, she says, “Are we finished here?”

The abrupt change from kissing her to her staring daggers at me affects me more than it should. I don’t allow it to show; instead, I stand and pull my suit jacket closed over my fading erection.

“Make yourself at home. As long as you stay inside the walls, you are free to explore.”

“Fredrick.”

“Yes.”

“You may make the rules for the estate, but I also make my own rules.”

“Is that so,” I say.

“Yes. And, aye, I may let you make me come occasionally. But you will never, ever fuck me.”

“Madame.”

“Are we clear?” she says. “If so, I’m going to find Callum so I can kill him.” She turns on her heel to walk out the door.

An empty ache fills my chest. A pain that’s not visited me in a very long time. It takes me back home to France, myfather’s estate, large, cold, and looming. I’m thrust back into that moment in my mother’s calming gardens. Standing under that tree. I close my eyes and embrace the pain.

A sense of loss comes over me, so great I want to drag her back over to me and kiss her till she softens in my arms. That desire fights an equally strong sentiment to send her on her way. To not go down this dangerous road. Wanting someone is one thing.

Having them is something else entirely.

Still, I take her arm, stopping her and pulling her back to me. “Your revenge can wait,” I say. “Right now, something else takes priority.”

One arched brow shoots sky-high as she cocks a hip, pulling her arm from my grasp. “Which would be…”

“We need to get you into your wedding gown.”

Chapter Nine

Freya

I glancearound the room I was whisked to upon Fredrick’s command. A rounded space with exposed stone walls and honey-colored hardwood floors that have been recently refinished. The tall arched windows overlook the pebbled front drive, which is empty, and the car that drove me here is long gone now.

I move to the mirror.

The dress has a high neckline, and sparkling silver beads make a necklace-like halter, drawing attention to my face. The shimmery white gown is entirely backless, dipping low at the waist to show off my slim frame, the fabric flaring into a long, beaded train. The white satin nips just below my ribcage, at the slimmest part of my waist, then flows downward. The skirt has multiple layers of translucent fabric, and hints of glitter sparkle in the light as I move.

It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and precisely what I would have chosen for myself, and it fits perfectly.

I stare back at the perfect bride in the mirror.

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