16. Margot
Chapter 16
Margot
T he bass from the music vibrates through the floor and sweat permeates the air, making my head spin. I’ve been at Aces for four hours, I’ve danced with Cece and Reagan, and drank what feels like my body weight in rum. The alcohol courses through my veins, filling me with a boldness that I haven’t felt since this nightmare of a marriage began.
But, if I’m being honest, it’s not just the rum that fuels me. It’s a culmination of things, from the sting of Ethan’s message to the suffocating control that Massimo clearly thinks he has over my life. But not tonight . Tonight, I’m on a mission to have fun and if that includes giving my husband a piece of my mind, then so be it. Fueled by the conversation with my girlfriends—after disclosing how much I dislike my husband—I move along the darkened corridor.
Daniele dropped me at the entrance of Aces earlier before heading around the back, so I don’t have a clue what direction Massimo’s office is in. And this might be a really bad idea that I’ll regret in the morning, but… fuck Massimo .
Besides, if he does kill me, at least I won’t be married to him anymore. I chuckle at the thought, propping myself against the wall of the corridor and drawing looks from people who pass by.
“If my husband kills me, that's got to count for something, right?” I slur to the woman heading back to the main room of the club. She cringes, her eyes wide with a look of disgust.
“It does,” I mutter to myself as I move further down the corridor. “She just doesn’t know the full story.”
I don’t realize I’ve reached a door until it’s too late and I’m falling through it. Catching myself on the cold, metal banister a few feet inside, I narrow my eyes under the harsh glaring lights.
At the top of the staircase is a door, and with my focus on it, I lift my feet, taking the steps one at a time. Upstairs must mean offices, right? Yes. It’s got to be this way.
I’m less than four steps up when I misjudge my footing and fall forward. As I stare at the gleaming silver metal in front of me, I can’t help but release a giggle, the alcohol and giddiness of what I’m about to do lowering my inhibitions.
Crawling up the stairs on my hands and knees, I use the banister to pull myself upright when I reach the top. Maybe I should have asked one of the girls to come with me . No, they don’t need to see this.
I dust off my skirt and push through the door into a darkened corridor. It reminds me of the one in The Shining : impossibly endless and hiding dark secrets. I look left and then right before picking a direction and heading in search of Massimo.
Here’s hoping the only psychotic person here is my husband.
Husband.
How is this my life?
Right, because my husband is also the reason I’m drunk on a fucking Tuesday and ready to give him a piece of my mind about his involvement in the destruction of my life.
Coming to a stop in the middle of the corridor, I tip my head back as I let my frustration, hurt, and fury flow through my body. My eyes sting with the tears I refuse to let fall; neither man deserves them.
When I bring my head back down, my eyes land on the door at the end of the corridor and the plaque that reads ‘PRIVATE’ in the center of it. If I were a betting woman—which I most definitely am not—I would guess that’s where his office is.
Kicking off my heels, I bend to pick them up, bracing my hand against the wall when a wave of dizziness washes through me as I straighten. When I’m certain I won’t pass out, I march down the hallway. I ignore the queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, on a mission and refusing to be sidetracked.
I barrel through the door but come up short when my gaze meets that of a man cradling a gun at the end of another corridor. My pulse stutters, a weight settling on my chest before I take a cautious step forward.
“Can I help you, Mrs. Marino?”
He knows who I am. Thank God . This’ll be easier than I thought.
“I need to see Massimo.” I lift my chin, my tone defiant as I close the distance between us.
Jerking his chin, he reaches for a radio on his hip. My hand darts out before he can press the button, gripping his bicep. His gaze drops to my hand before meeting my eyes, but I don’t miss the way he tenses and his eyes widen a fraction.
Releasing him, I flutter my eyelashes and lean in close. “I kinda wanna surprise him, ya know?” I pout, pushing out my chest and raising a brow.
His mouth forms an ‘O’ before he catches himself and scowls. For a second, I think he’s going to send me on my way, but then he sighs and holds the door open. “It’s the one at the end of the corridor.”
Jeez, how many hallways can one place have?
Without a word, I slip through, forcing my body to relax when I hear the door close behind me. I don’t give myself a second to think, barging into Massimo’s office without a care in the world.
All eyes turn to me, along with the weapons of various men dotted around the room. Massimo sits at a table, poker chips and cards strewn across the velvet. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out.
“Put your guns down or you won’t make it out of this room alive,” he commands, his eyes still on the cards in his hand.
Weapons lower, but the stares don’t leave me. The quiet is thick as everyone waits for me to speak.
“What do you want, Margot?” Massimo asks, his voice cool and controlled.
It’s all I need to sober myself up and remind me of my pain, anger, and circumstances that this man has caused without a thought for what he has done to me.
I step forward, the corner of my mouth lifting in a snarl. “I hate you,” I snap, stamping my foot to emphasize my point. When he doesn’t respond, I brave another step and then another until I’m standing in the middle of the room. “I loathe you and?—”
Massimo bolts upright, and I snap my mouth shut. His eyes are on me, a storm gathering beneath the surface. He closes the distance between us in a few strides, and I expect him to stop in front of me. But he takes hold of my bicep and drags me across the room and through a door I hadn’t noticed when I entered. We’re in a narrow corridor and at the end it spreads out into a room, but I can’t make out what the room is.
My shoes slip from my hand, landing with a thud on the hardwood floor. “Let go of me,” I hiss, struggling in his hold as I try and fail to force him to release me.
In the confines of the space, Massimo turns on me, grabbing my arms and pinning them above my head against the wall. He crowds in on me until he’s all I can see.
With his heat emanating over me, it’s hard to think straight, the scent of whiskey and cigars surrounding me in an intoxicating haze. My lips part as I stare at him. His eyes darken, and when he presses his hips into my stomach, I feel his unmistakable hardness.
Massimo dips his head, and for a moment, I think he’s going to capture my lips, but he diverts, dusting kisses along my jawline. It hasn’t escaped my attention that we haven’t kissed since our wedding day. But when he’s licking and nipping at my skin, it’s hard to concentrate and ask him why. Instead, I tilt my head to give him better access and bite down on my bottom lip to keep from moaning, conscious of the ears on the other side of the door.
Every nerve ending in my body comes alive, craving his touch. His hands release me, coming to rest on my waist, the tips of his fingers brushing over the exposed skin through the cutouts in the fabric. It’s intoxicating . I hate how much I want this—how much I want him . But being this close to him, his mouth on me, the anticipation of what’s to come thrumming through my veins: it’s consuming.
Massimo’s lips dust the shell of my ear and he murmurs, “I never would have let you leave the house in this if I’d seen you with my own eyes.”
Blood rushes in my ears as I drown in his possessiveness. “You can’t control what I wear,” I reply breathlessly, my voice laced with an edge of neediness and defiance.
Dropping a hand to my thigh, Massimo smoothes it up the bare skin and under the slit on my right side. When he reaches my hip, he groans before dragging his hand over to my exposed pussy and growling in a possessive and downright maddening way. He hovers just above where I need him most, and a whimper slips free, my hips grinding the air as I seek out more.
He chuckles, the sound dark and depraved in the small space. “If you want something, Margot, then take it.”
I don’t miss the irony, but with the alcohol in my veins giving me confidence, it’s all the encouragement I need. With my eyes closed in concentration, I reach for his belt buckle, unfastening it before fumbling with undoing his pants. Desperation makes my movements jerky and uncoordinated. My nipples scrape the fabric of my dress with every breath I take, only adding to my heightened arousal.
“Eyes open.” Gripping my chin, Massimo forces my head back, it’s only then that I open my eyes, blinking as I adjust to the dim lighting. My focus shifts to his mouth, watching as his lips move and form words. “Any time I’m going to fuck you, you look at me, Margot. You keep your eyes open and on me . You think only about me. Understood?”
I swallow the saliva that’s pooled in my mouth at his command. My hips lift toward him of their own volition, but words won’t form, so I simply jerk my head in reply.
“Good girl. Now take my dick out and show me what this pretty little mouth of yours can do.” He runs his thumb over my cupid's bow, before holding my chin between his finger and thumb.
I hesitate for a moment, my eyes searching his before I fall to my knees. He rubs his thumb over the apple of my cheek, his eyes hooded and heavy with lust. “You look so fucking beautiful on your knees for me.”
The praise sends a rush of moisture between my legs, and I reach for his waistband, pulling his underwear and slacks down, hungry for a taste of him. His thick length is heavy and juts out less than an inch from my mouth, and I dart my tongue out, wetting my lips.
Tentatively, I wrap my hand around his length, reveling in the tortured hiss that leaves him. He’s hot to the touch and impossibly hard. Lifting his length, I run my tongue from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling it around before sucking him into my mouth with my eyes trained on his face.
“Fuuuccccckkkk,” Massimo groans, tipping his head back.
He dives his fingers into my hair, painfully pulling on the strands as he pushes deeper into my throat. I choke on him, saliva spluttering from my lips and running down my chin as he fills my mouth, blocking my airway.
It feels like an eternity before he pulls out, and I can breathe. Sucking in rasping breaths, I stare at him as he towers above me, stroking his cock like a goddamn god. His features are both soft and hard in the midst of his arousal, like he is willing to surrender to me or face me in a battle. It’s bewitching .
Holding his cock at the base, Massimo uses the tip to wipe the saliva from my chin before bringing it to my open, waiting mouth. He pushes forward again, hitting the back of my throat before pulsing his hips and withdrawing. Repeating the action, he fucks my mouth like I’m his own personal sex toy. I guess, in some way, as his unwilling wife, I am.
My fingers inch toward my core, seeking to relieve the ache that burns there, if only for a moment. The taste of his salty pre-cum is addictive on my tongue and his musky scent fills my nostrils. This isn’t my first blow job, but I never thought I’d be this turned on giving one. If anything, it’s pushing me closer and closer to my orgasm than anything ever has before.
Heat coils low in my stomach, tightening with every flicker of my tongue over Massimo’s cock. My hunger for him drives me, blurring my thoughts and making it hard to think beyond bringing him to completion. I convulse as I rub my fingers over the bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs. My eyes flutter closed and pleasure spreads like liquid fire through my body.
“Your mouth feels so good, but I’m not coming down your throat tonight. Stand and face the wall,” he grits through clenched teeth, sounding as close to the edge of the sweetest oblivion as I am.
I do as he commands, my need to have him filling me greater than my desire to fight. Moving my dress to the side, Massimo eases inside. My body contracts, pulling him further in, and I press my cheek into the cool wall as I moan his name.
He pulls my hair over my shoulder, his lips at my ear as he murmurs, “Now tell me how much you hate me.”
I twist my head, seeking him out, searching for something , but when I open my mouth to speak, he pulls virtually all the way out, slamming back into me and knocking the air from my lungs.
“Don’t ever come into my office and speak to me like that again. You’re lucky I’m fucking you and not killing you.”
He grazes his teeth over my bare shoulder, pulling out of me slowly. My walls flutter and squeeze, greedy for him to return. When he slides back in, I moan, contracting around him in a sinful and pulsating rhythm. The sounds of him filling my sex with his cock in steady thrusts mingles with our labored breaths.
“Next time, I won’t hesitate to remind you of exactly who I am, and I can guarantee you won’t enjoy it half as much as you’re enjoying this.”
His words penetrate the haze of my arousal, tinging whatever this was with ugliness. Massimo pulls out and slams into me, his movements punishing. My hands curl into fists against the wall and although I feel the pain as he repeats the action, I do nothing to stop him. Instead, I revel in his frustration, feeding on it as he pounds into me. Our labored breaths and the sound of us fucking are the only noises I can hear over the beating of my rapid pulse in my ear. Even with his harsh words hanging between us, my body is winding tighter and tighter, dragging me toward my release.
“Fuck you, Massimo,” I rasp, my fury fighting with my arousal for control but losing. My eyes flutter closed, a familiar sensation as he hits my G-spot with every thrust rushing through me. Black spots appear in my vision and Massimo’s fingers flex into the flesh at my hips as he holds me still.
“You can hate me all you want, Margot,” Massimo murmurs low and rough, his breath hot against my ear as his thrusts grow sharper, rougher. “But your body doesn’t lie. It’s clear in the way your pussy sucks me in with every thrust. You’re mine . No one else will ever touch you or have you. Remember that .”
I claw at the wall, desperate for my release even as it barrels through me like a freight train. A delicious shudder runs through me, and my body convulses around him before he stills, spilling inside of me.
“ Mine ,” he growls.
Seconds later, he pulls out, leaving behind an emptiness as our combined release leaks from me, coating my thighs. I can hear him dress, but I squeeze my eyes closed and drop my head until my forehead is pressed against the wall and my hair forms a curtain around me.
I hate him.
I hate the way his words wrap around me like chains, reminding me there is no escape. But he’s also right. My body craves more of him, even as my mind screams at me to run.
This was a mistake .
Not just having unprotected sex with him, but coming here, marching up to his office, and saying what I said. It was all a stupid mistake and one I don’t think I’m done paying for, especially if the guilt I feel is anything to go by.