Page 46 of Twisted Vows

He props his forearm on the back of the couch, fists my hair, and twists his wrist, demanding my attention.

“C’mon,mia caramellina. I know you know my name. Say it.”

Amidst the storm of desire, a small, horrified voice cries out in denial. Is this it? Is this how he reveals his trap? Is this when he strikes and leaves me a broken shell of myself?

He licks my jaw, nips my bottom lip, and resumes thrusting his hips, the new angle just as intense as the last.

“I know you read our marriage license. Say my name, Mia. Tell me you belong to me,” he murmurs against my temple.

Years’ worth of fury rises from my depths. I can’t call out the name of my ex’s brother, even if he is the only one to bring me to such heights. Even if he isn’t lying to me. Even if he’s my only protector.

He pulls back just enough to study my eyes.

“Mio Dio, you’re too fucking gorgeous,” he snarls.

Like a feral beast, he consumes my mouth and dominates my body, fucking into me so hard we scoot across the couch. My hair escapes the tie and gets caught under my shoulders.

He doesn’t stop when my neck cranks backward, my hair pulling taut and lifting my chin.

With stinging nips, he trails down my throat and braces his forearm under my ass, freeing his other hand and pulling my breasts out of my top. A pathetic keening sound fills the air. My throat hurts. He angles his hips and drags his tip over my G-spot and hits my cervix with every thrust.

I explode.

He doesn’t slow. Doesn’t pause.

My toes cramp, but it’s nothing compared to the clenching of my core. I can’t breathe. Everything contracts harder, sending me into another realm of wonderfully horrible pleasure pain.

“Mine,” he snarls.

With three vicious thrusts, he buries himself impossibly deeper and finds his release. His shaft pulses inside me. Warmth floods my center. I convulse into another orgasm.

Sweat stings my eyes. Sawdust fills my mouth. Cotton stuffs my head. Acid burns in my lungs.

When my core finally relaxes, I sob and fight for freedom. Wordless panic floods my system, the last few days catching up with me at full force.

Without his ropes constraining my limbs or a blindfold over my eyes, and in the apartment I share with my sister, his rough claiming is too much. His ring on my finger and the possessive glint in his eyes are too real.

I need out. Now.

I shove his face with both hands and kick his chest. He grunts and stumbles backward, his still spurting cock slipping out of my pussy. I roll off the couch and scramble toward the door, using the coffee table to find my feet and lunging forward.

He tackles me before I reach the kitchen. Spinning us in midair and taking the brunt of our fall, he knocks into the barstool so hard it falls toward us instead of away. I grunt as the leg lands straight across my unprotected belly, Fiero’s thick arms trapping mine against my chest. He curses and rolls us onto our sides, shielding and caging me with his massive body.

I break. Sobs wrack my chest. I can’t stop fighting. He grunts as I jam my heels into his shins. I claw at his arms and buck and twist, but his hold never wavers.

When he remains immovable, futility washes over me and I slump to the ground, my limbs flopping like a rag doll. I suck down unsteady breaths, waiting for logic to return, but there’s no oxygen in the room. He rubs his thumb over my arm, tugs me tighter against him, and rests his chin on the top of my head, cocooning me in rock-hard muscle.

As I slowly regain bits and pieces of myself, I realize the depths of my scars. I’ll never fit myself back together again. The monster at my back will forever hold pieces of me in his fist. I’ll always be waiting for him to crush them.

With my first full breath in what feels like a decade, I rebuild my defenses brick by brick until my body feels like my own again. Time passes, but I don’t know how long we lie on the floor with our clothes askew and his big, hard body wrapped around mine. When I finally regain my senses, I admonish my inner self for enjoying his grip on me.

I tell myself his hold is stifling, but my body refuses to move. More minutes pass as I gather my protective shield.

After an uneven breath, I dig my nails into my palms and stiffen my spine.

“I don’t know why I did that. It won’t happen again. Let me go,” I say.

He tucks one arm tighter around my midsection and tilts my chin up with his knuckles. I swallow as he pulls his head back a little and angles his face down to mine. My core liquifies.

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