Page 11 of Wedlocked

I didn’t doubt for a second that same news had already reached her family’s ears. If my father kept spies, the Costas would too. There were also at least half-a-dozen people here who bootlicked both mafia families.

I nodded at one of my soldiers in the room, the bulge of his firearm under his suit jacket and his alert hawk-like gaze making it clear he wasn’t here to party. He nodded back, aware of what I wanted. He spoke into an earpiece.

Every soldier I had would now be on high alert and surrounding the home. Only my four closest allies, my three brothers who were also my caporegimes—Evander, Alessendro and Serafino—and my consigliere, Carlo, who I’d inherited from my father, were off duty tonight.

I’d yet to decide which of my brothers I’d make my underboss. All three of them were businessmen first and hardened criminals second, all of them more than capable of taking on the position.

For the moment though, I had more pressing needs…

I rubbed my hands up and down Sabrina’s spine, squeezing her ass cheeks on each downward stroke. A growl formed low in my throat. Fuck. Her body was made for touching, for fucking. And for now she was all mine.

I’d kill anyone who so much as glanced at her inappropriately.

I spun her around, then dragged her back against my front. Despite half the partiers here being hammered or baked—likely both—all of them kept their distance. My guests knew better than to earn my ire by bumping against us or stepping on our toes.

I closed my eyes, half tempted to bend her over and fuck her from behind, right here, right now. It wouldn’t be my first public sex exhibition. But she was going to be my wife. While she was with me I demanded she be respected, because disrespecting her meant disrespecting me, and that I would never accept.

I dropped my head and kissed her throat. She shuddered against me, her sensuality firing my blood. Damn, I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted any other woman. That she shared a similar upbringing and had a fair idea of what to expect from me, only made me want her harder.

Someone gasped and I reluctantly lifted my head and looked to my right, where Evander was fucking the woman I’d seen with him earlier. Her dress was rucked up to her waist, his big hands holding her in place as he slammed into her from behind. Their musky scent saturated the air, freeing many of the other guests’ inhibitions.

A woman wrapped her arms around a man’s neck and kissed him while another man behind her unzipped his pants, lifted her dress and pushed aside her panties, then thrust savagely inside her.

An older woman, her neck crêpey and her face botox-smooth, was pushed against a wall by a strapping young man. She giggled and moaned even before she wrapped her legs around his hips, revealing her bare, hairless pussy beneath her sparkling black evening gown. He hadn’t even kissed her when he lined up his cock and plunged deep inside her.

A trio of young women danced together while taking turns inhaling coke off a small tray they passed around between them. With their pupils contracting, caution was thrown to the wind as they surrendered to the white powder and began kissing one another, their hands disappearing beneath each other’s dresses as their fingers slipped into wet, inviting pussies.

My nostrils flared and my eyes narrowed. That I could have any woman in this room meant nothing. The only woman I wanted was already pressed against me, squirming at the eroticism on display.

I leaned low and said into her ear, “Let’s go someplace private. Somewhere I can finally make you mine.”

Chapter Seven

Sabrina

Even if I was given the choice I wouldn’t have said no. I nodded jerkily, my heart pounding in my ears as though in tune to the throbbing bass guitar played by one of the band members.

I no longer even cared about the sexual acts happening around us, all my focus, my interest centered on the man ushering me toward the staircase that I couldn’t climb fast enough. And yet I was floating on air, my desire overriding my fears. Not even the ever present threat of my death dimmed the glow of my lust. Perhaps it exacerbated it?

Whatever. If I was to die, I’d experience pleasure first, even if it was laced with some pain thanks to my inexperience…and his more than adequate cock.

Soon enough we traversed a wide hallway which led to an impressive, carved timber door. He swung it open and I stepped inside with him following close behind. He shut the door with a decisive click, a miniature chandelier blazing into life above a king-sized bed with a black velvet cover.

He muted the lights as I turned to him. He stepped toward me and clasped my shoulders. His eyes burned into mine. “I need to know—are you a virgin?”

My breath hissed. “What has that got to do with anything?”

“Everything,” he growled. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Had he read my mind? I snorted out a half-hysterical, half-disbelieving laugh. “Says the man who planned to kill me.” And who probably still planned to kill me.

“I’m also the man who saved your life.”

My whole body throbbed with desire, with fury and denial. “For how long?”

“For as long as I want you.”

I gaped. He hadn’t even tried to soften the blow. “You bastard.”

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