5. Marco #2
I cinch my arm around her waist while my free hand snatches the edge of her panties and yanks them down her hips. Rearing back, Bianca slaps me with as much force as she can. The blow smarts, and the throb in my cheek slices through the remaining brain fog.
I should thank her for that.
To show my gratitude, I rip her panties away, no longer bothering to be careful. Once she’s naked beneath her skirt, I stuff the material into my pocket while Bianca squirms in my lap.
My fingers trail up her legs, and she snags my wrist to prevent me from exploring any further.
“So what?” She practically spits the question. “You’re going to punish me because of what happened to Dulce?”
I hum. “Think of it as divine retribution.” I bury my fingers in her thighs. “Your family murdered my mother. Since Enzo’s dead and I can’t reach Aldo, you’re the one who pays the debt.”
“I don’t pay for other men’s sins,” Bianca hisses as she bucks against my weight. “And I sure as hell don’t bow to a boy playing soldier. You want a war, Marco? You’re looking at one.”
With a fierce, protective snap of her muscles, she clamps her legs together. The motion tautens her body against mine, ensnaring my shaft in a vice grip. A ragged groan breaks from my lips, and without wasting another second, I haul her across my lap and pin her hands behind her back.
Her little skirt flips up on her thighs as she worms around in my grip, and she cranes her neck to gawk over her shoulder. “Have you lost your mind?”
I stroke a calloused palm across the rounded globe of her bare ass, my voice rough. “Tell you what. If you get down on your knees and beg, I might consider forgiving you for last night’s stunt. Otherwise, your hell starts now, wife.”
Her teeth piercing my leg penetrates my hangover, fraying my restraint. My hand swats her ass with a resounding smack, and Bianca’s back arches as she releases a cry that’s all shock and outrage and just a hint of something else.
I roll my tongue over my bottom lip, my voice a haughty croon. “Oh, you like this. Never would’ve pegged you for having a spanking kink.”
She hisses like an angry possum. “You sadist! I’m going to—”
“Shh.” I run my hand over her silken backside. Fuck, she’s soft, and the weight of her against my cock has my fingers edging toward the plump slit between her legs. Bianca makes a needy noise in the back of her throat, her hips pressing down instinctively.
I know women. I can see the desire picking at her control, smell it on her skin. It coats her inner thighs where my thumb teases warm flesh. If she’d let me, I’d fly her to heaven.
“When you fight me, I only want to break you more.” I rub the pain away, already knowing what she’ll say.
She glances back over her shoulder at me, red-faced and irate. “Go fuck yourself.”
I lick the palm of my hand, growling when I taste her desire. “We’re married, principessa. Fucking me is your job.” My fingers mold themselves to her ass and spread her cheeks briefly. Before she can open up that sassy mouth to snarl out another retort, I bring my hand down again. Hard.
To my disappointment, she doesn’t cry out this time. Instead, with each strike, she sucks in a sharp breath, squirming in my lap. I repeat the process, over and over again, until she thrusts instinctively against the bulge in my pants.
“You belong to me now, Bianca.” Smack. “The sooner you admit that, the easier this becomes for you.” Smack. She doesn’t respond, but her fingers turn into claws, digging into my skin through the material of my dress pants. If I weren’t holding her, she’d gouge my eyes out.
Bianca shifts, and the sunlight spilling through the bay window catches on the watch at her wrist. The stylized C on the face is like a bucket of cold water. For a second, I forgot her identity. This isn’t just some woman I picked up for the night at a bar.
She’s the daughter of my enemy. Of the family who stole my mother from me.
Even if I could forgive her for that, Bianca will never see me as anything other than the stupid, incompetent head of the Argento family.
The reminder of what I am, what I’ll always be, is like a kick to the balls, and any enjoyment I was deriving from this snuffs out like a candle’s flame.
I put a little too much strength into that last strike, and I go still, my hand curling into a fist before I can deliver another. I’ve never hit a woman in anger, and I can’t bring myself to cross that line now, not even as punishment for drugging me.
No. If I’m going to leave bruises, she’ll be raking her nails down my back while I do so, begging me for more.
Calming my ragged breaths, I gently release Bianca. As we both climb to our feet, I scan her for any signs of satisfaction or ridicule.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you’d resort to some sick humiliation ritual not even twenty-four hours into this sham of a marriage.
Once again, you’ve proven yourself no better than a rabid dog.
” She nonchalantly smooths her skirt. “I have a meeting with the staff in an hour about several…changes I’ll be making to the household. I expect your presence.”
Anger surges through my veins, but I hold my tongue as she glides toward me.
She pats my chest with an open palm. “You can keep the panties. You may have ruined them, but they’re still designer, which makes them the most presentable thing about you at the moment.
” She directs a disdainful glance at my rumpled clothing from last night.
“See if you can rectify your state of dress before we have to suffer one another’s company again. ”
My jaw works as I watch her saunter from the room. As much as she pisses me off, I have to admire her grit. Nothing seems to faze her. I guess that means I’ll just have to put more effort into getting under her skin.