31. -30-
Dorian
Knowing ma vilaine had no intention of killing me was an advantage I was ready to use. The mask would come off tonight. She was challenging the beast and had to bear the consequences.
Or so I thought.
She had no intention of backing down on her demand—quite the opposite. She dared to repeat it in a raised, impatient voice as if I were a disobedient child.
“You won’t see me kneeling and begging, ma vilaine,” I ground out, ignoring the gun pointed at my chest. “You have no means to force me to do your bidding. So, what is it gonna be?”
“Are you sure?” she asked, watching me cautiously. She had to notice that the playful part of me had evaporated. The man standing before her had nothing to do with the guy she encountered when kidnapping me.
But was she aware of the danger? Because I already pictured the end of this conversation with her on her knees, without her gun and mask, paying for turning my life upside down. I would fuck that sassy mouth until she wouldn’t be able to talk without feeling every inch of my cock for days.
“Oh, yeah. I’m very sure.” I smiled confidently, refusing to acknowledge my erect dick. The motherfucker thought it was a great idea to show our wife how excited he was to see her again.
“Don’t be surprised then.” She shrugged, her eyes jumping from one surface to another as if searching for something. That tiny moment of distraction gave me enough time to choose my tactics, and I took an abrupt step toward her.
She reacted immediately. Without blinking or hesitating, she fired, the bullet flying millimeters from my earlobe.
I felt the heat of it, hearing the sound of it punching the wall behind me.
Still, it didn’t stop me from proceeding.
Once I set my mind on something, I had to get it.
And now, my only goal was to find out the identity of this little menace.
I continued approaching her, ignoring another bullet that ended up on the floor. She aimed perfectly, millimeters from the target, but only fired warning shots. By now she had to understand there were only two outcomes: she shot me, or I reached her.
I was merely a step from her when the third shot hit me. The bullet scratched my shoulder, making me hiss more from surprise than pain. Instinctively, I covered the wound with my palm, blood slicking my fingers.
Slowly, I lifted my gaze to her, noticing her frozen posture and wide eyes. She miscalculated. That was my chance. An undeniable thrill skated down my spine, and I lunged again.
The distance between us collapsed in a millisecond. I reached for her arm, expecting to feel her skin and resistance when the metal snapped shut around my wrist.
The sound was unmistakable. Before my brain could catch up with the sudden shift in momentum, she moved behind me.
The second cuff locked around my right wrist a heartbeat later, and she yanked me sideways toward the decorative column built into the bed’s frame.
She looped the chain around the metal ring embedded at its base, something I hadn’t noticed before, and closed it with practiced precision as if she was doing it daily.
I pulled hard, my muscles straining, but the chain barely budged. My wrists were pinned together behind my back, my range of motion reduced to a bare minimum. The stone was cold against my skin, and no amount of strength was going to rip it free.
“What the fuck,” I hissed, twisting, pulling hard, testing the connection, but the metal didn’t give up. The pillar didn’t budge.
My eyes met hers, a victorious glint evident in her brown irises. She stood a few feet away with a lowered gun, her chest rising and falling.
“Look at you,” she said, smiling softly, tilting her head as she watched my futile fight. “Where is your confidence now?”
I stopped pulling, the reality settling in my chest with a weight that surprised me.
I wasn’t frightened.
I wasn’t even angry anymore.
I was… exhilarated.
Oh, fuck!
No woman had ever overpowered me. No woman had ever put me on my knees, metaphorically or otherwise, while staring down the barrel of a gun. Who the hell was she?
Letting out a slow breath, I shook my head, blood still trickling down my arm. But my pulse stayed steady, even as everything in me screamed that this was catastrophically wrong.
“Twice in less than two weeks.” My voice sounded too impressed, even for my liking, as I tested the chain once more. “You’re breaking records, ma vilaine.”
Her gorgeous eyes shone with pride and happiness. I would bet my last dollar that her smile widened under the mask. But instead of planning my escape or thinking about how to call Malin or Zyon to save my ass, I found myself eagerly awaiting what my unhinged wife intended to do with me.
Bloody hell! I was deep in this. Deeper than ever. Fuck! How did this happen?
“I’m starting to think that you like being chained,” she teased, taking a step toward me. “You reacted too slowly for a former cage fighter.”
My brows rose in surprise. Not many people knew it was me who participated in the underground illegal fights. Everyone believed it was Zyon because of his kickboxing history.
“How do you—” I started, but she swiftly cut me off.
“Not important.” She circled the marble column, moving the chain a little. It loosened slightly, but my movement was still limited.
“Sit.” She pointed with a gun at the bed, a tiny place at the edge where I could plop my ass on. I obeyed, my brain refusing to come up with a witty remark because it was still recovering from our humiliating defeat.
My back was pressed against the cold column, my legs stretched on the mattress before me. The biting of the cuffs into my wrists intensified, but what worried me more than physical pain was my erect cock, resting teasingly against my abdomen.
Could this go worse?
When she first kidnapped me, I felt powerful and in control. But after that eventful encounter, followed by showing off how unhinged and wild she actually was, I wasn’t sure if I had any power at all. And the worst of it was, I loved it.
I loved that glint of pure insanity in her gorgeous eyes when she watched me strain against the restraints. I’d dreamt of seeing it since I’d woken up in the hospital.
I loved that she overpowered me while looking like it cost her no effort at all. And I tried to fight. I could swear on anything I held dear that I genuinely wished to get her. But she kicked my ass like a professional.
And, while hard to admit, I fucking loved not knowing what she planned to do with me. The uncertainty was confusing, but at the same time thrilling, even arousing.
Jesus Christ, I was fucked!
“Someone’s excited.” She stared at my dick hungrily, her eyes devouring it like it was the last slice of cake.
My brain conveniently chose that moment to remind me how great her mouth felt the last time she tasted me. I had to use all my self-control to keep my lips pressed together so nothing inappropriate would slip out.
“Let’s see what we can do about it.”
She shot me a wicked glance and looked around the luxuriously furnished room. I watched her with my brows furrowed, my hands tapping against the column to find something to help me escape, but the marble was too smooth to be useful.
While she shuffled through some stuff in the closet, I scanned my surroundings, but Malin made sure nothing dangerous, or in this case helpful, was in the room. This was simply a place to get laid and disappear.
Great! I really was at her mercy.
The thought excited me more than I was ready to admit, so I focused on her instead. She just placed a black rectangular box with ornamental engraving on the bed, pure menace shining in her eyes.
“Are you looking for something?” I asked in a hoarse voice as she slowly opened it and looked inside. Inside were condoms, lube, cotton pads, disinfectant, scissors, and some other things people might need. It was basically a first aid kit.
“I already found it.”
She picked a pack of condoms and lube, closed the box, and returned it to the closet. It made me wonder for a second how she knew precisely where to look, but I completely forgot about it when she threw the condom and lube at my legs.
“Are you going to do what I think you’re going to do?” I flirtatiously winked at her, trying to disguise the thrill that tingled in my cells as playfulness.
“I don’t think so, baby.”
She shook her head firmly, but her voice was sweet like honey. Slowly, almost seductively, she climbed onto the bed. The jeans hugged her toned thighs and amazing round ass, leaving very little to the imagination. My breathing seized when she spread my legs apart and nestled between them.
“Such a perfect body,” she praised. Her gloved hand touched my knee, traveling up my muscular thigh. My cock twitched in anticipation as she approached it, my entire body consumed by the fire her single touch ignited. “Who can blame me for wishing to mark it as mine, right?”
Her eyes glowed with possessiveness, her words hitting me like a punch to the gut.
“Mark it?” I breathed, staring at her hand wrapping around my dick.
A tattoo, burns, bruises, and more violent ways to mark someone crossed my mind, but nothing seemed scary enough to make me tremble in fear.
Just the opposite, the thought made me shiver with delight.
Pain was never my enemy. I actually enjoyed it.
“Yes.” She nodded, her soft confirmation ringing in my ears like an angelic melody. “You need to learn who this body belongs to.”
I honestly wasn’t in the right state of mind to ponder her words. They sounded too territorial, too unhinged for an innocent observer. But I'd been part of the mafia world my entire life. This was the life I’d been committed to since I found out what pussy tasted like.
An ordinary, sane woman couldn’t give me this tingling feeling in my lower abdomen when my wife’s words surrounded my heart like a poisonous ivy rose. I needed depravity.