Chapter Twenty-Three
Flynn
“She’s pissed,” Kian mutters as Kaden hauls her down the aisle. She is a feral kitten, five-three of pure hate and violence, and I fucking love it.
“Let me go!” she screams, kicking wildly at the air like she could gut him. Kaden towers over her, unbothered. I smile.
She whips her head toward me the second they reach the altar. “Flynn! What the hell—” Her voice cracks, cheeks flushed crimson, hair a wild halo of snarls.
“Just do as you’re told, trouble.” I lean in close; she snaps her teeth at my nose, barely missing.
“Declan,” she pleads, twisting in Kaden’s iron grip.
“It’s for your protection,” Declan says. It only fuels her rage.
“Protection? From whom? The stalker hasn’t shown up.” She jabs a finger at me. “He’s in the mafia. And so are you. How the hell is this protection?” She tries to pinch Kaden’s arm, nails scraping skin.
I nod. Kaden shoves her forward. She stumbles on the heels, but I’m already there, arms snapping around her waist, yanking her flush against my chest. She gasps, dark eyes blazing up at me, innocence drowned in fury.
Her nipples are hard points against my shirt through the thin dress, betraying her fury with every ragged breath.
“I’ll explain later,” I whisper against her ear. She scoffs.
“I’m not marrying you, Brady.” The snarl vibrates through her ribs into mine.
“Yes, you are. You’ll be Mrs Brady, whether you like it or not.” I hold her stare and wink. Her nostrils flare.
She curses, tries to knee me. I drag her to the front, arms locked around her upper body, pinning her arms to her sides. Her toes barely skim the floor.
“You can start,” I tell the priest. He nods, throat bobbing. Sweat beads on his brow, crucifix trembling in his grip.
He begins. I tune him out. She keeps cursing, breath hot on my neck. I lean to her ear. “You’re in a chapel, trouble. Stop fucking cursing.”
She gets louder. I clamp my hand over her mouth and nose, cutting off her air. “Stop, or I won’t let you breathe.”
The priest falters, staring.
“Keep going,” Declan orders, voice low. The man resumes, words trembling.
She thrashes, teeth scraping my palm. The corner of my mouth lifts. She’d rather black out than obey.
Her body sags heavier. Kian and Connor trade glances. I roll my eyes, ease my hand down just enough for her nose to flare, sucking frantic breaths. My palm stays sealed over her lips.
“Flynn.” Declan nods toward the priest.
“Do you, Flynn Brady, take Autumn Glass as your wife?”
The words hit differently than I expected. I knew I had to get married eventually, have kids, and leave a legacy. Marry some rich woman I never cared for. But her? The thought of another man breathing near her makes me want to torch the country.
I’d burn the fucking world for her.
“I do.” I don’t look away. A single tear slides down her cheek. I lean in, lick it off her skin, slowly. “Fuck that taste? That’s you breaking for me.”
“Do you, Autumn Glass, take Flynn Brady as your husband?”
She screams under my hand, the muffled “No” clear as a gunshot.
“She said yes,” I tell the priest.
“I need to hear it,” he stammers.
“No, you fucking don’t,” Declan warns.
The priest meets her pleading eyes. She begs him to intervene. He won’t.
Declan walks to us and seizes her hand as I release it.
She claws at him, nails raking air. He forces her fingers straight.
I fish the ring from Kaden’s palm, slide the cool band over her knuckle.
The metal bites cold into her skin, too tight, like it will never come off.
I hold my own ring between my lips and push it onto my finger.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
She screams again, raw and broken.
“Autumn,” Declan warns. She doesn’t care.
Her body bucks against mine, a live wire of fury and fear. I tighten my hold until her ribs creak, until the only air she gets is the heat of my palm. The chapel smells of incense and burnt candles. I drag my nose along her throat, inhaling the pulse hammering there.
“You’re mine now, wife,” I growl against her skin. “Fight all you want. It only makes the leash tighter.”
She bites my hand hard enough to draw blood. I hiss, but the pain shoots straight to my cock. I press her harder into me, letting her feel exactly what her rage does to me.
The priest mutters a final prayer, voice cracking. Kaden steps forward, ready to haul her out if she bolts. She won’t. Not with my arms caging her like iron bars.
I release her mouth just enough for her to gasp. “Say it,” I order, low and lethal. “Say you’re mine.”
“Fuck you,” she spits, voice hoarse.
I smile, dark and slow. “Already planning on it, trouble. Tonight. Tomorrow. Every night until you forget your own name.”
Her eyes flash, hate and something hotter flickering beneath. Good. Let it burn.
I scoop her up, one arm under her knees, the other around her back. She kicks, heels scraping my thighs, but I stride down the aisle like I’m carrying a prize. The doors swing open to the night air, cool and biting. She shivers against me.
“Put me down,” she snarls.
“No.” I nip her earlobe. “You walk when I say. You breathe when I allow it. You come when I’m buried inside you.”
She stills, breath hitching. I feel her thighs clench involuntarily against my arm.
The car waits, engine purring. Kaden opens the door. I slide her inside, follow, and slam it shut.
I pin her to the leather seat, mouth crashing over hers. She bites my lip; I taste copper and her. My hand slides up her thigh, under the dress, finding heat and damp lace.
“Still fighting?” I murmur against her mouth. “Or finally ready to beg?”
She arches into my touch despite herself. “Never.”
I chuckle, dark and filthy. “We’ll see.”
The car pulls away from the chapel, tyres crunching gravel.
“This is not real.” She slides as far from me as she can, and I smirk, letting her have her space.
“It’s very real.” I shrug.
“No. I didn’t sign anything. It’s not legal.” She has a victorious look on her pretty face.
“Autumn.” I shake my head with a smirk. My tone drops. I reach for her thigh, and she tries to shove me away, but I clamp my hand hard, watching the redness bloom around my fingers on her soft skin. I pull her in, and she slides against me, the skirt of her dress drawing back.
I lean into her, grabbing her arms as she tries to come at me again. I pin them behind her.
“I own you. I don’t need a fucking signature.” I groan in her ear, licking her neck, feeling her shiver in my grip.
“The document was signed this afternoon.” I move back to meet her eyes, and her mouth drops open. “Connor is very good at copying signatures.”
She shakes her head. “You are all insane,” she whispers.
“Probably.” I let her go and move back. My cock is throbbing, and I can’t wait to take her again.
“You know I trusted you.” She murmurs it without looking at me. Her hands are fists on her lap, her eyes wet, but no tears fall.
“And you need to keep trusting me.” I reach for her chin, but she moves away.
“All of this because of my virginity.” She shakes her head.
“What do you mean?” I lean down, trying to see her eyes.
“You think you own me because I’m untouched.” She finally looks up, and tears fall. “You think I’m this innocent trophy. How the big, bad mafia guy took my virginity and kept me locked in his mansion.”
I stare at her, my muscles tensing.
“Autumn, that’s not what this is.” I try to soften my voice but fail.
“It’s not? Then what is it?” She turns to face me fully.
I release a breath. I don’t want to lie, so I give her a half-truth.
“I liked you since Declan’s wedding.” She frowns at my words. “I tried to stay away, to respect your friendship with the Callaghans. Your work.” She tilts her head, confused. She really didn’t know I had my eye on her this entire time.
“I’m not your type.” Her voice is softer now.
“You keep saying that.” I smile. “What is my type, trouble?”
Her face flushes. “Tall, blonde, beautiful. Big lips. A gym body that fits perfectly in fancy dresses.”
Shit. She really thinks that.
I shake my head and reach for her chin. This time she doesn’t move away.
“My type is a strong, independent woman who will get me in trouble. I knew you were trouble the moment I saw you. I knew that if I ever tasted you, you would become a drug. I would get addicted, and now I can’t let you go.”
She’s staring at me, not moving or saying a word.
We pass through the gates, and Kaden parks the car. She lets out a breath and opens the door; I let her leave and head inside.
She needs time, and I will give it to her for now.
I shove open the door to her room. Steam billows from the bathroom like a veil, hot and mocking, hiding what’s mine. It pisses me off. I lean against the doorframe, black suit crisp, arms crossed, waiting like a predator in the shadows.
The shower cuts off. She steps out, towel knotted loose at her chest, water beading on her collarbones, dripping down the swell of her breasts. Skin flushed pink from the heat. Fuck.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” I growl, voice rough as gravel.
She jumps, hand snapping to clutch the towel. “Flynn.” The snap in her tone could cut glass. “Get out.”
“Why?” I prowl closer, slow, deliberate.
“You’re my wife. I’ve seen every inch of this body.
Tasted it. Marked it.” I raise my hand, the jewelled plug glinting between my fingers, bigger this time, cold steel and promise.
Her eyes widen; she shakes her head, backing up until her ass hits the counter.
I’m on her in a heartbeat, caging her with my body, hands planting on either side of her hips. “Turn around.”
“No, Flynn. I’m not using that.” She tries to sidestep; I snake an arm around her waist, spinning her so her front slams the marble. The towel rides up, exposing the curve of her ass.