16. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Luca
"D o your worst, Luciano."
Her defiance ignites something primal in me—a darkness I've kept leashed until now.
With shaking hands, I secure the silk blindfold across her eyes, watching as the crimson fabric transforms her from Bianca the defiant to Bianca the vulnerable.
She betrayed me the moment she opened that drawer. And now she's going to learn that in this house, there are consequences.
The silk blindfold does its work perfectly, robbing her of sight. The first layer of control stripped away. Each step she takes into my sanctuary is a surrender she doesn't yet understand.
"Stand in the center," I command, voice low but carrying in the soundproofed chamber.
She hesitates just long enough to make my palm itch. To make my cock stiffen with anticipation of her defiance.
"Do I need to tell you twice, little rabbit?"
I watch her swallow, the delicate muscles of her throat working as she takes three tentative steps forward. The dim red lighting casts her in shadows, turning her skin to something almost otherworldly. Like she's caught between fear and desire, between resistance and surrender.
"Take off your clothes," I order, circling her slowly. "Slowly. You wanted to know my secrets so badly... now I want to see every one of yours."
Her fingers tremble at the hem of her sweater, but she doesn't refuse.
She pulls it over her head, revealing the lace bra beneath—black, of course. Teresa knows what I prefer. Every piece of Bianca's life is carefully constructed to suit me now, and that is something she will learn in time.
Her jeans follow, peeled down long legs inch by deliberate inch.
“Lose the bra. And those ruined little panties too. I want your cunt bare.”
She drops the lace to the floor, and fuck… she’s breathtaking like this. Naked. Blindfolded. Standing in my dungeon like a sacrificial offering to the devil himself.
I circle her slowly, dragging a single finger down her spine. She gasps when I cup her tit, squeezing the soft weight, thumb flicking across her nipple until it peaks under my touch.
“You opened my drawer,” I growl against her throat. “So I’m going to open you.”
I retrieve the cuffs I selected already—black leather, silver buckles, soft on the inside, cruel on the outside. I bind her wrists together, then raise them above her head, hooking her to the overhead restraint. She’s on her toes now, tits pushed out, cunt vulnerable and already glistening.
She’s scared. She’s soaked.
Perfect.
“You want honesty?” I whisper, letting my cock press against the curve of her ass. “Tonight you’ll get it. Every inch of it.”
I circle her again, a predator sizing up his prey, noting every goosebump that rises in my wake, every hitched breath when she senses me near. I note the marks I've left on her in days past—fading bruises on her hips from gripping too hard, the shadow of my teeth on her inner thigh. Signs of possession already written into her flesh, little warnings that have been slowing prepping my little wife for this moment.
Tonight requires new marks. Deeper ones.
"Do you know what happens to those who betray me, Bianca?" I ask, letting my voice drop to that register that always makes her shiver.
"I didn't betray you," she whispers, the first words she's spoken since entering this room.
My palm connects with her ass without warning, the crack of it echoing through the chamber. She jerks forward with a gasp, chain rattling above her.
"Lie to me again," I growl against her neck, "and it gets worse."
I strike again, on the opposite cheek, watching the pale flesh bloom pink beneath my hand. The sight sends heat surging through my veins.
"Count them," I command, delivering another blow, slightly harder than the last.
She hesitates.
"If you lose count, we start again."
Another slap, harder. The skin colors under my palm, a beautiful red, flushed, utterly gorgeous.
"One," she whispers.
The second lands with more force, making her jerk against her restraints.
"Two," she gasps.
By five, her ass is a beautiful shade of pink. By ten, it's mottled red and she's breathing hard, each number pushed through gritted teeth. Fifteen leaves her trembling, the chain above her jingling with the effort of holding herself steady.
“I could make you come just like this,” I hiss, slipping my fingers between her thighs, coating them in her slick heat. “You’re dripping, you filthy little traitor. Wet from punishment. You should be ashamed.”
She doesn’t answer. She can’t.
"Good girl," I murmur, running my palm over the heated flesh, feeling her twitch beneath my touch. "Now we can move on."
I return to the cabinet, retrieving what comes next in her education. The butt plug I choose from my selection is sleek black silicone, heavy in my palm as I coat it liberally with lubricant. Her breath catches when she hears the sound of the bottle opening, the wet slide of my fingers preparing the toy.
"You went into my files," I say, moving behind her again. "So now I'm going to go into your most private space. Let's see which of us breaks first."
I circle the plug against her tight little hole, feeling her tense at the unfamiliar sensation. My other hand finds her throat, tilting her head back to rest against my shoulder as I push the toy forward—not entering yet, just letting her feel the possibility of it.
“Relax,” I snap. “Or I’ll stretch you wider with my fingers first. You want that? You want me to stuff your tiny ass full until you scream?”
She moans a response that I don't even pretend to care about.
I feel the moment she forces her muscles to yield, her breath short against my jaw. I push forward, the plug breaching her entrance.
I work it in slowly, savoring every twitch of resistance. When the widest part pops past her rim, she gasps, legs trembling.
I press my lips to the nape of her neck. A seal of ownership.
I walk around to face her, taking in the flush spreading across her chest, the way her lips part with each shallow breath. The blindfold hides her eyes, but I can imagine the war raging behind them.
Pure fury and arousal battling for dominance.
Just like us. Just like everything our marriage is becoming.
From another drawer, I retrieve a small but powerful vibrator, sleek and curved to fit perfectly against her most sensitive spot. I strap it snug against her clit, right where she’s swollen and desperate, then flip the switch to low.
"This," I explain, running my fingers along the curve of the device, "is going to teach you about consequences."
I switch it on at the lowest setting. Her reaction is immediate—a jerk, a gasp, her body trying to move away but held in place by the restraints and my firm hand on her hip.
“Sensitive, huh?” I taunt, teasing the angle until she’s moaning breathlessly. “We’ll see how long that pretty cunt can take it.”
I move around her, fingers trailing across her flushed tits, pinching her nipples until she cries out. Her body’s on fire—plugged, vibrating, restrained. Her clit’s pulsing against the toy, slick leaking down her thighs.
"The plug ensures you feel everything more intensely," I explain, adjusting the vibrator slightly. "Filled and stimulated. Punished and pleasured."
I circle her slowly, watching her body respond as I adjust the intensity up and down without warning. Sometimes letting her climb toward release, other times denying her just as she crests the wave.
"Dripping for the man who's punishing you," I observe, my fingers finding the evidence of her arousal. "You know what that makes you?"
She doesn't answer, head hanging forward, breaths coming in shuddering gasps.
I twist the vibrator to a higher setting, making her cry out. "My filthy little traitor. Say it."
"Your..." she swallows hard. "Your filthy little traitor."
"Why did you go through my files?" I demand, turning the vibration down just enough to let her think clearly. "The truth this time."
She trembles, fighting against answering, so I return to the cabinet. The sound of the drawer opening must alert her, because her head snaps up, searching blindly through the silk covering her eyes.
"I have a larger plug here," I inform her, letting my voice carry the threat. "Much larger. Unless you want to feel it stretching you open, you'll tell me exactly what you were looking for."
"I wanted to know," she finally gasps, hips jerking involuntarily against the vibrator. "About Elena. About—about you."
There it is. The truth. Not from her lips—but from her body.
I switch off the vibrator, letting her hang there, panting and trembling with unfinished need. I remove it carefully, setting it aside.
"Was that so hard?" I ask, coming to stand before her again. "All I ever want from you is honesty, Bianca. Nothing less."
My hands find the clasp of my belt, the sound of leather sliding through the loops loud in the silence between us. My slacks follow, pooling at my feet along with my boxers, freeing the rock hard cock that's fucking aching for her.
I move behind her again, hands gripping her hips as I position myself.
With deliberate care, I take hold of the base of the plug and begin to work it free, watching the way her body clenches, trying to hold onto it even as I pull it away.
When it finally slides free, I set it aside and deliver another sharp slap to her already sensitive ass.
She cries out, jerking forward.
I guide her toward the padded bench in the center of the room, unclipping her restraints from the overhead chain but leaving the cuffs in place. I position her across it, chest pressed to the leather, ass raised, wrists secured to the loops at the front.
“You want to come?” I whisper.
“Yes,” she gasps, wrecked. “Please.”
“Beg me. Tell me what you are.”
“I’m your filthy little traitor,” she chokes. “Your whore. Your toy. Please—fuck me, Luca. Fuck me.”
"You like knowing secrets?" I align myself with her entrance, rock-hard and ready to claim what's mine. "Then feel this one—this cock is your punishment."
I enter her in one swift thrust, burying myself to the hilt.
She's tight, slick, perfect as she clenches around me, a moan torn from her throat that sounds like surrender.
My pace is punishing from the start—no mercy, no gentle build. Just possession. My hand finds her throat, angling her head back as I lean over her, driving into her with a force that rocks the bench against the floor.
"Moan louder," I command, tightening my grip just enough to make her gasp. "Let the whole fucking house hear how you beg to be used."
Her sounds are music—desperate, broken cries that match each thrust. I feel her tightening around me, building toward release, and I grind deeper, changing the angle to hit the spot I know drives her wild.
"Mine," I growl against her ear. "Say it. Say who fucks you like this. Say who breaks you open."
"Yours," she gasps, voice cracking as her body begins to tremble with her approaching climax. "I'm yours, Luca. Only yours."
Her orgasm ripples through her, inner walls clenching around me in violent pulses. I don't slow down, driving her through it and into another, extending her pleasure until she's sobbing with the intensity of it.
Only then do I allow my own release, spilling inside her with a groan that comes from somewhere primal and possessive. Marking her from the inside out, claiming her in ways no file or record ever could.
After, when we're both spent and trembling, I carefully withdraw from her. I unfasten the cuffs, rubbing life back into her wrists, then finally remove the blindfold.
Her eyes blink up at me, dazed but clear—no fear, no regret.
Just acceptance... and something else. Something that makes my chest tighten.
I lift her into my arms, cradling her against my chest as I carry her to the small adjoining bathroom. The tub fills quickly with steaming water scented with oils that will ease the ache in her muscles.
I lower her in carefully, then slide in behind her, pulling her back against my chest.
"You thought this was about punishment," I murmur against her temple, pressing a kiss there that contradicts the brutality of moments before. "But it's not."
She turns her head just enough to meet my gaze, question in her eyes.
"It's about worship," I admit, the words dragged from somewhere too honest to examine closely. "You're my chaos. My weakness." I brush damp hair from her face, a gesture so tender it almost hurts. "My queen."
I don't tell her the rest. That if anyone else ever touches what I've claimed, I'll kill them smiling. That her betrayal cut me not because she saw my files, but because she might learn I'm obsessed with every detail of her existence.
That the files contain more than research—they contain evidence of how deeply she's burrowed under my skin.
Instead, I wash her body with gentle hands, the opposite of the man who dominated her minutes before. I tend to the marks I've left, ensuring none will last longer than a day or two.
"The Volkovs," I say quietly as I stroke a washcloth over her shoulder. "They want to meet you. It's approaching quickly and we must be prepared."
She stiffens in my arms. "Why?"
"That's what I intend to find out." I press my lips to the curve where her neck meets her shoulder. "But in the meantime, there will be no more snooping through my files. If you want to know something, you ask. Understood?"
She nods, but there's still defiance in the set of her shoulders. It makes me want to drag her back to the bench and fuck her into obedience all over again.
"I saw my mother's name," she whispers.
There's something in her voice—not anger, but a softer emotion. Something almost like longing.
"You miss her."
She's quiet for a moment, water lapping gently around us. "Sometimes. Even though she doesn't know who I am anymore." Her voice drops lower. "I haven't been to see her since... well, it's been awhile."
I tighten my arm around her waist, pulling her closer against my chest. "Would you like to?"
The question seems to surprise her. She twists slightly, looking up at me with uncertainty. "You'd let me?"
"I'd take you myself." The possessiveness in my voice is unmistakable. "I will be there too, of course. But we take my security detail, my car. No chances."
She considers this, eyes searching mine. "Because of what your father said? About the Volkovs?"
My little rabbit misses nothing.
I press my lips to her temple. "The Volkovs are circling. My father's weakness is blood in the water, and now you—" I trace my fingertips along her collarbone, "—are another point of interest for them."
"Luca, I don't understand. Why would they care about me? I'm nobody."
I smile against her skin. "You're a Ravelli now. That makes you either a target or an asset. Either way, they're watching."
She shivers, but not from fear. From understanding, finally, what it means to belong to me in name and in blood. That love in our world doesn’t protect—it paints targets.
"I've been thinking about what my father said yesterday." I measure my words carefully. "Something about my mother. About her death."
Bianca goes very still in my arms. "And?"
"Well, I don't think that the story I was told about who killed her is true." The admission burns in my throat. "I am starting to think that the enemies closest to us are often the ones we never see coming."
She absorbs this, putting pieces together as she always does. "You think someone in your family..."
I silence her with a single finger to her lips.
“No, my love ,” I say. "Those aren't thoughts to speak aloud, even here."
The words slip out easily. Too easily.
And for a moment, the world goes still.
She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. Just stares at me like I’ve pulled the floor out from beneath her. Because I didn’t call her little rabbit . I didn’t say wife . I didn’t growl mine while I pushed her to the edge.
My love.
The words hang in the air between us, warm and terrifying and unmistakably real.
I see it hit her. I could take it back. Roll over it. Pretend it didn’t matter.
But I don’t.
Because it does matter.
It matters a whole fucking lot.
Later, when I've dried her and carried her back to our bed, I watch her slip into exhausted sleep. She doesn’t have to speak. I know that her silence isn’t distance. It’s processing .
She thought tonight was about secrets. About punishment. About power.
But what I gave her was something far more dangerous than pain.
I gave her the truth.
And whether she knows it or not, she owns me now.
Not just my house. Not just my name.
But the parts I never intended to give.