Chapter One #3
He fucks into my face a few more times before yanking out and pushing me away.
He tosses me onto my front, and he yanks my hips against him.
He throws my dress over my back and roughly shoves my pants to the side before entering me.
I gasp out, and he chuckles. It doesn’t hurt, not really.
Craig is far more aggressive in the bedroom, and he gets me so much wetter.
“I just felt you gush around me. You like that, huh?” He pulls out and crashes back into me.
I groan but roll my eyes as I lean down, hoping his balls may slap my clit a little so at least I get something out of it. I’ve tried pleasuring myself while he’s like this, but he doesn’t allow it.
“Hands,” he grunts as he thrusts into me.
I lay my cheek on the bed and reach behind me.
He takes both my hands in one of his and yanks me harder.
My shoulders wince as he slams against me.
There’s no pleasure in it, nothing, just body parts slamming together.
I writhe, and I moan, and he loves it. What can I say? I play being fucked great really well.
He pulls out, shoves me onto my side on the bed, then cums over me, laughing as he does.
God, he’s disgusting. I smile at him. I pant, and I stutter out, “W-wow.”
“See how good it will be when we’re married?”
I sit up and nod, beaming up at him, covered in his cum. He lies at the side of me and kisses me. It’s not nice. It’s not sexy. He clashes his teeth into mine, crushes my lips on his, and bites at my bottom lip, breaking the skin. I grimace inside, but I smile up at him.
“You look good covered in my cum. I want you to keep it on you when we go for dinner with your father tonight.”
I nod and smile again. Sick fuck. “What are we going to do about the wedding? What about Father?”
“You leave him to me; don’t worry your pretty little head. Over my dead body will I lose anything. This legacy is mine.”
I smirk because that’s my plan, too. I wrap myself in my arms and withdraw from him.
“Hey,” he snaps, “you’re mine! I will kill him to keep you.”
I’m not under any illusion that this is one of those “she’s the love of my life” and “I will burn the world down for her” situations.
This is a “she is my meal ticket in with the other families, and if I don’t have her, I have no way in.
I’ll be kicked out, so she will be mine whether I want her or not” type of situation. I fling my arms around him.
“Will you kill him?”
He pulls me back, and I force a tear to roll down my cheek. “If I have to.” He pinches my chin harder than necessary to get me to look at him. He’s not much taller than me, but I tilt my chin and drop my eyes. “Hey.” He crashes his lips against mine. “Whatever it takes.”
I nod and whimper a little, and he grabs me by the shoulders. “Hey. Stop. I’ll sort it out, and we will get married. I’m setting a date now. One month.”
“One month?”
“Yes, I will arrange a meeting with him now. One month from today, I will kill him. One month from tomorrow, you will be mine officially.”
I nod. He kisses my head but shoves me away as he turns and exits my room. I smile. One month—that’s all I have to put the finishing touches to all my plans. I tug my phone out from my bedside table and message Craig, my trainer.
Arianna: I need to work out tomorrow. Pilates and a spa session.
Craig: I’ll clear the day.
I smile and crack my neck. I slide the lock on the door and drag my bed away from the wall, pulling out the panel I made behind the headboard. I grab the bag with my new identity, Marianne’s new identity, some cash, a gun, and a burner phone.
Arianna: 1 month.
M: I’ll be ready
I check everything, delete the messages and tuck it back in the bag, stuffing it all back into the wall, ready to be dealt with later.
I wake up and stretch. My body couldn’t relax.
Unable to sleep more than an hour at a time, I tossed and turned all night.
I need a good workout. My neck is full of knots, and my back aches.
I slept like shit, unable to stop my mind from racing.
The feel of the gun in my hand from last night sets me on fire every time, itching to pull the trigger.
I get dressed in my yoga gear, grab my mat, and head downstairs. Father and Alfredo are at the kitchen island, talking heatedly back and forth. As I walk in, they both stop. I don’t acknowledge either of them until I grab my drink from the counter and fill it.
“Morning, Father.”
He just nods, and Alfredo glares at me, those muddy brown eyes so disapproving, looking me up and down. “You’re wearing that?”
“I’m going to do yoga.” Well, Pilates, actually—well, probably neither, so it doesn’t really matter.
“When we’re married, you’ll cover up. I won’t have you walking around half-naked,” he scolds, and my father smirks at the back of his head.
It’s small, a tiny grin—but I see it all the same.
I know what he’s thinking—he’s thinking there isn’t going to be a wedding, and I know why he hasn’t said anything about my outfit.
Father would normally, but now he’s happy for me to go out like this, all to wind Alfredo up. He’s playing him, smug bastard.
“How long will you be gone?” Alfredo snaps, jealousy rolling off him in waves, his face pinched, clenched with a loathing that makes me smile inside.
He doesn’t really want me. This isn’t really jealousy. He just doesn’t want me to spend time with another man who may turn my head when he thinks he’s got me locked down.
“Most of the day. Craig is dropping me off at the studio, and then I’m going to the spa with Jane, and then I’ll be back for supper.”
Jane’s the friend I always use in situations like this. Jane is the best kind of friend—the kind that doesn’t exist, the sort that can’t drop you in it or screw up your plans.
I smile sweetly. I don’t know anyone called Jane; they would know that already if they knew anything about me.
Father nods, lifting his paper, clearly dismissing both of us. Alfredo doesn’t look happy, but I stroll outside anyway, climbing into Craig’s awaiting Jeep, and we drive off.
Pulling up at the hotel, I slide out, and he comes around to meet me. He steps in front of me, caging me against the side of his Jeep.
“You look fucking delicious.” His eyes twinkle with mischief as he runs his hand up and down my arm. He licks his lips and leans in as if he’s going to kiss me out here in public. The man’s lost his damned mind.
I smile up at him. “You’ll have to wait; we need to get inside so no one sees us.”
“I don’t give a shit.” He pulls back, trying to convince me his bravado is real, but I see him falter as he takes a significant step back, and his eyes flick around the parking lot.
“Yeah, you do, and you know it.”
I know he’s fucking a few of his clients.
The older ones buy him things: his watch, his Jeep, and his condominium.
They’re all gifts from the older women he trains, but he’s with me because I’m young, and my father pays him well.
I’m not delusional enough to think that he actually wants to spend time with me; he just wants to fuck, and honestly, after that shitshow of a sexual encounter last night, I need this too.
Sometimes a girl just needs an unemotional railing.
I step into the room and start to strip. I open my bag and put my clothes on top. He throws down a box of condoms, and I grin. “Plan on using all of them?”
“We can try.” He grins back.
I slip the last of my clothes off and stand in front of him naked, and he groans. I don’t care. My body looks fucking good. I know it’s all him, his influence and the way we train, but I don’t give a shit. I work hard, and I look fucking great.
He snatches at his clothes, tugging and pulling as he yanks them off before tossing them on the floor, kicking them to the side. He pulls out a condom, tearing the top off and squeezing the condom from the packet. Sliding it over his rigid dick, and nods towards the bed.
“Hard and fast?”
“Hard and fucking fast!” I grin at him. It’s always how I like to start.
Needing to get rid of the tension so I can relax, the first fuck is hard and fast, and he really does put in the effort afterwards.
I climb onto the bed on all fours, and he slides up behind me.
He runs the tip of his sheathed cock through my lips, and I shudder.
“Fuck, you’re so wet.” His hand caresses the bottom of my back and over to my hip.
I grin over my shoulder. “Are you gonna fuck me or stroke me?”
He slams inside, and I grunt as he thrusts me forward, snatching my hips back before I faceplant.
“Fuck!” he roars out when he bottoms out, his fingers digging into me.
I smile, knowing they’ll bruise; they always do, yet Alfredo never notices because it’s so rare for me to take my clothes off anymore.
This is always great, skin slapping, sweat dripping, as he drives into me over and over again.
The tension easing with every crash of his hips against my skin.
I reach down and slip a finger inside with him, and he groans.
He releases one hip and slaps my ass, and grunts before gripping again and slamming back into me.
I groan as I slide my coated fingers around my clit and rub frantically, trying to cum before he does. I gasp as his fingers tighten, and he grips me harder, roaring out, “I’m coming.”
He smashes into me, pushing me forward until I fall flat, crushing my hand between my thighs, and I rub harder as he curses at how tight I am in this position.
It’s only a few more thrusts before he’s screaming out as he comes.
I can feel him pulsing and filling the condom, and he bottoms out and holds himself there while he gasps and pulses as I scream, clenching around him and my fingers.
He sags onto my back and nips at my shoulder before pulling out and flopping onto his back at my side.
I turn to face him, and he’s grinning. “I could fuck you all day fucking long.”