Page 135 of Bad Little Bride

“You’re cuffed not tied, but I won’t be telling you no. Not right now anyway.”

She arches up, bumping her torso hard against me as she tears her head away from my lips, but I’ve still got her by the throat, and I smile when her little growl vibrates against my palm.

“What are we doing here, Enzo? Are you torturing me? Punishing me? Fucking me? Whatever it is, can we get on with it already?” She huffs, flicking her eyes upward. “I’m getting bored.”

Mino chuckles and then a soft thrumming sounds once, twice. I hold her head still, glancing over to meet his gaze. He gives a curt nod and I look down at my bride.

My wife.

“My queen,” I whisper.

She stares at me with her brows drawn tight, dying to know what the hell is going on but refusing to ask if only to be ignored again.

I straddle her on the desktop, my long legs bent, knees pressing against her sides as I hover over her.

“I need you to stay still for me, baby,” I rasp. “Can you do that?”

Her lips purse and she gives me no verbal response, but every muscle in her body eases beneath me.

My wife, at my mercy, has complete and total trust in me.

My cock hardens in my slacks and a small smile pulls at her lips, though she says nothing, just stares with those big green eyes.

“How well do you take pain, wife?”

“I dance until my toes bleed, body shuts down, and muscles give out. I’ve been stabbed, cut open, and sewn back together and never once have I taken a pill to dull the ache. Alcohol? Sure. Muscle relaxers? Every now and again, but pain is a part of me. Has been for as long as I can remember. Now tell me why.”

Stretching my arm over her, I gather her waterfall of hair, drawing it forward and laying it along her shoulders, fingers running through the thick, silky length. “I’m going to do what I promised.”

Her eyes fall to my neck, pupils dilating at the sight of her lips forever imprinted on my skin. “Enzo?—”

“Begin.”

The buzzing sounds again, and in my peripheral, I watch as Mino places his hand over my wife’s, holding her in place, simultaneously flattening her fingers to the wood beneath her palm.

My eyes never leave hers, and after a few seconds, there’s a small pull to her brows, slight pinch to her lips.

“Stop,” I bark out.

The buzzing ceases immediately, and Boston glares further, slowly raising a brow in challenge.

Clenching my jaw, I give a small nod, and Mino begins again.

My wife breathes deeply, her chest inflating below me, and I follow its path with my fingers, down her chest, along her breast line, and then all the way down her stomach.

She’s wearing a dress today. It’s tight and slinky along her waist, flaring out along her hips. Thank fuck for that or else her entire pussy would be out, and I’d already bein.

Her tongue runs along her lower lip as she watches me, daring me to come and play, but then she jerks, features scrunching up. My hand flies out to the right before I can stop it, wrapping around Mino’s throat.

His head pops up, face completely blank.

No shock, no worry or anger. He simply stares.

“You’re hurting her,” I force past clenched teeth.

“Boston,” he rasps around my grip. “Tell your man you’re fine.”

“Enzo,” she calls, but I don’t look away, gaze now frozen on her tiny, perfect finger. Bleeding.

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