Milo
I follow her up the stairs, keeping my distance, even though every instinct in me wants to close it.
I can’t take my eyes off her, so much so that I barely register where we are going.
It hardly matters.
I have the layout of this house memorised.
She opens the door and steps aside, allowing me in. I enter and close it behind me just as she flicks on the light.
Her room is large, immaculate, exactly what I expected. She is a mafia princess, I am a Bratva heir. We were both born into excess.
There’s a super king size bed with bedside tables on either side. Two doors sit opposite each other, one clearly an en-suite, the other a walk in wardrobe.
The vanity is littered with makeup, brushes, and girl things I don’t understand.
Her vanilla scent fills the room and hits me hard. Like the addict I am, I drag it into my lungs and let it fuck me up.
My cock has been rock hard since our kiss in the kitchen.
She stands there in loose pyjama trousers and a cropped top that bares her stomach and toned abs, with a teasing hint of cleavage visible above the fabric. I want to bury my face in her chest and never come up for air.
The room itself feels strange though. It lacks her real imprint. It’s nothing like her academy dorm, with its colourful cushions and art covering every available surface.
More than that, I have the distinct impression she’s spent most of her life hiding parts of herself in this house, presenting only a controlled, cold front.
Footsteps pass outside the door, most likely guards on patrol.
I don’t care. If her father finds me here, all the better. It’s a conversation that’s been overdue for way too long.
Let the world find out.
Octavia Bellanti is mine.
She looks me over, a knowing smile touching her lips.
I narrow my eyes, already aware she’s planning something.
Painfully slowly, she hooks her fingers into the waistband of her trousers and eases them down over her hips. They slide to the floor at her feet, and she steps out of them without breaking eye contact.
She is wearing nothing but a thin white thong.
My jaw tightens.
She turns her back to me, lifts her top over her head, and lets it fall to the floor. I watch as her hands reach behind her to unclasp her bra. She slips it off one arm, then the other, holding it away from her body for a moment before letting it drop.
Her hand trails up the length of her leg, over her hip, along her spine, as if she is acquainting herself with her own skin.
Then she turns.
Her breasts are full and bare, her nipples already taut, and the sight sets my control on edge.
She is perfection reincarnated.
The smirk never leaves her face.
She steps out of the thong slowly, then flicks it at me. I catch it without thinking and bring it to my nose, breathing her in deep.
Fuck.
I groan, slide it straight into my pocket, already knowing exactly what I’ll be doing with it later.
She gathers her hair into a ponytail and moves as if to walk past me.
“Show’s over,” she says lightly. “I need a shower.”
She doesn’t make it a step.
I close my hand around her ponytail and yank her back against me. She gasps, as her back collides with my chest, and I press my erection into her arse.
Keeping her head tilted back by her hair, I lower my mouth to the column of her neck, kissing it slowly.
My other hand slides forward, gripping her pussy.
I trail my tongue slowly upward until I reach her ear.
“You’re going to pay for teasing me,” I murmur.
Keeping my grip on her ponytail, I slip out of my shirt and let it drop at her feet as I force her down. She lands on her knees on the discarded fabric.
I release her hair and circle her, until I’m standing directly in front of her.
“Take it out.” I growl.
She looks up at me, biting her lip as her hands go to my belt. She works at the buckle, freeing me. I shove my jeans and boxers down, and my cock springs free.
She licks her lips as she watches me, and fuck, she looks like a goddess on her knees.
I’m obsessed with every inch of her, but those tits alone ruin me.
I intended to fuck her mouth, but the sight of her like this derails the thought completely.
“Get up,” I snap.
She hesitates, and I don’t wait. I haul her up, her legs circling my waist, and throw her onto the bed.
“So impatient,” she moans.
She’s already breathing hard, and we haven’t even begun.
I am feral for this woman.
“I want you lying down,” I tell her. “I want to fuck these tits. And—” I bend down and take one nipple into my mouth. “You can do double duty and suck me off at the same time.”
I smirk.
I take another tit into my mouth, then the other, my hands kneading as I move between them. I don’t give her time to respond before my mouth presses back to hers, the kiss deep and consuming.
She moans into me. Her hands tangle in my hair, scrape down my back, clutch at the T-shirt I haven’t bothered to remove. She’s frantic, desperate, and I fucking love it.
I break the kiss to command, “Push your tits together.”
She does as I ask, biting her lip, and I slide my cock between them.
“Pinch your nipples,” I rasp.
She does, and the sight in front of me is almost too much. I have to force myself to slow down, to stop thrusting between her tits so I can last a little longer.
As I push, she opens her mouth, and my cock slides between her plump lips.
She licks and sucks, her wet mouth working with her tits, and it’s too much.
My balls tighten.
“Open wide,” I growl.
As I push all my length in, she gags. The position has her completely at my mercy, her head angled against the bed, nowhere to go. She is caught between my cock and the mattress, completely trapped.
I pump twice more and let go.
Fuck.
“That’s it. Don’t waste a single drop,” I growl.
When I can finally move, the fog in my head clears, if only for a moment. I pull free of her mouth with a soft pop.
She looks up at me, and I brace myself on my hands before taking her plush lower lip between my teeth, biting down.
The taste of blood hits my tongue as I push into her mouth.
I devour her.
When I break the kiss, I look straight into her eyes.
“Seven.”
Her brows pinch in confusion. She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.
“At least seven orgasms you’ll take from me tonight, gorgeous. That’s what I owe you, if not more.”
“I’m sorry,” I add.
Confusion mars her face again. “Why?”
“For coming before you. Your pleasure always comes first, but I did say,” I add with a smirk, “you were going to get punished for teasing me.”
She rolls her eyes and snorts. “Hardly a punishment.”
I kiss her again. “Let me fuck you now, deep and good. With my cock, then my mouth, then my cock again.”
“You’re insatiable,” she says, breathless, as she grinds her pussy against my length.
I pull back and look at her suddenly. “Say I were to force you to marry me, today. What would you do?”
She narrows her eyes. “I’d probably shoot you, or stab you.”
Then her smile turns devilish. “But I’d make certain you ended up in hospital this time.”
I smirk. “At least not dead. That’s workable.”
“You’d still be in hospital,” she says.
I bite her lip again. “Foolish of you to think a hospital stay would deter me from marrying the love of my life.”
Her breath catches at the word love. I see her trying to shut herself down as a darker expression crosses her face, but then she shakes her head, as though pulling herself out of it.
“Stop talking nonsense and fuck me already.”
I do.
And I make sure her demons don’t reach her.
Love is far too small a word for what I really feel for her.
But she isn’t ready for that kind of madness yet.
She’d run… or try to. Because letting her go was never an option.
I force a plan into place. I consider speaking to her father, but then I discard the thought entirely.
I don’t need his approval, and neither does she.
She is the next Bellanti mafia queen, a ruler she was born to be. No one tells her what she can or cannot do.
I am almost shocked by my own restraint. I have had to talk myself out of kidnapping her and forcing her to marry me more times than I care to admit.
I even had someone on standby, ready to marry us while she was unconscious, so that when she woke, she would already be my wife.
I considered drugging her, blackmail, leverage, every ugly, effective option.
But look at me now, entertaining the notion of fucking morals.
I want her to marry me because she chooses it, because she sees that we are meant to be.
She keeps fighting it.
That’s fine. She always fights what terrifies her most.
I will make her see it… understand that she is my fucking soulmate.
But my patience is fraying.