17. Rork
17
RORK
A fter pushing myself to the brink in the gym, I finally feel like I’ve regained some semblance of control over my emotions. Mitch could see it too as my punches became quicker and more accurate. The physical exertion has helped to clear my mind, to burn away the fog of anger and frustration that has settled over me in the wake of my confrontation with Bianca.
“So, where is your bride?” Mitch asks me.
I towel off the sweat from my brow. “Upstairs in her room,” I respond shortly, not bothering to tell him that she’s locked in there.
But somehow, Mitch knows. The goddamn man is too perceptive for his own good.
“Is she in her room of her own volition?” Mitch asks, taking a swig from his bottle.
I scowl. “None of your business, Mitchell.”
Mitch throws his hands up in the air in exasperation. “Rork, I’ve known you for nearly two decades. I’m not going to mince my words with you and you know that. What the fuck , Rork? You can’t just lock her away!”
“I can do whatever I want,” I snarl, slamming my hands against the bench that we’re seated on. “She’s my wife.”
“But if your goal is to get revenge on her father, how the fuck do you think you’ll do that when you’re keeping her isolated? Do you really think you’ll break her spirit through sheer force of will? She’s a goddamn Marino, Rork. It’s not sustainable.”
“You’re bordering dangerously close to insubordination,” I snarl, feeling my heart beat pick up and my hands curl into fists. How dare he question my plan! I didn’t realize that he also doubled as my second-in-command. Liam will be so thrilled.
Instead of being frightened, Mitch merely rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Use your head , Rork! If you truly want to get under her skin, you need to find a way to get close to her and earn her trust. Then you can undermine her defenses.”
I pause, my anger ceasing as I take in Mitch’s words. That… that actually makes sense . Have I been doing this all wrong? I honestly thought that by isolating her, she would easily break as it’s clear the Marinos are close. What worse punishment could there be than forcing her to not speak to her family?
My thought process must be all over my face because Mitch merely chuckles and gently punches me in the shoulder. “You’re welcome,” he calls as he steps away. “I expect my genius idea to be handsomely compensated with a bonus!”
Deep in thought, I head upstairs to my bedroom. I’m going to take Mitch’s words to heart. He’s right. I can’t keep her locked up forever. Eventually, I’m going to have to give her some space to roam the house.
Once I shower, I’ll tell Bianca to get dressed for dinner. It’ll be a small concession, a way to show her that I’m not entirely unreasonable.
But as I pass by her door, I freeze in my tracks. From behind the thick wood, I hear a sound that sends a jolt of confusion and misplaced concern through my body. It’s a soft moan, barely audible over the hum of the air conditioning.
For a moment, I’m not sure what to think. Is she in pain? Is she crying? Had I hurt her when I shoved her against the wall? I hadn’t intended to. I at least had some control even though when I’m around her, that control is constantly slipping.
The thought of her suffering, even at my own hands, sends a pang of worry through my chest. I may be a cold, calculating Mob Boss, but I'm not entirely without empathy, even for my enemies. It’s what separates me from Nico.
But as I strain to listen more closely, I realize that the sound is not one of distress or fear. No, it’s something else entirely, something that sends a rush of heat surging through my veins and makes my pulse quicken with an entirely different kind of intensity.
Bianca is pleasuring herself.
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from my lungs and making my head spin with a dizzying mix of shock and arousal. I can picture her now, lying on that big bed with her hand between her thighs, her back arched and her lips parted as she chases her own release.
The image is so vivid, so viscerally compelling, that I have to bite back a groan of my own. What is she imagining? Is she thinking about me, or someone else? The thought of it being someone else causes white-hot anger to shoot through me. Bianca is mine and she should think of no one else.
I know I should walk away and leave her to her own devices. God knows, I can use this bit of information later to cause her some misery. But something keeps me rooted to the spot, my ear pressed against the door like some kind of fucked up voyeur.
It’s just curiosity , I tell myself firmly.
But I know that’s bullshit. I’m drawn to her in a way that goes beyond mere revenge or manipulation. There’s something about Bianca that calls to me on a primal level, that makes me want to possess her in every way possible.
And hearing her like this, in the throes of her own pleasure? Well, fuck, it stokes that desire to a fever pitch. I can feel my own body responding, my skin flushing with heat and my breath coming faster as I imagine all the ways I could make her moan like that for me.
It’s a dangerous line of thinking, one that threatens to undermine everything I’ve worked for. I can’t let myself get distracted by base lust, can’t let my own weakness jeopardize my carefully laid plans.
But then I hear Bianca moan again, and this time, she’s saying something.
She’s moaning my name .
I can’t help myself. Fuck my plans. My hand moves to the knob almost instinctively, unlocking the door with a quiet click. I step inside just as Bianca’s body tenses, her beautiful, naked body arching off the bed. She gasps, bringing herself to climax as she cries out my name, her fingers buried inside her.
I’m stunned and fucking turned on. A low moan escapes my lips.
Bianca’s blue eyes fly open, and the deep blush spreading across her cheeks is as vivid as her gasp of realization.
“Rork!” she screams, scrambling to cover herself. “What the fuck ? Get out!”
I know I should say something, do something, but I can’t. Not now. Not after seeing her like this, getting off because of me . I cross the room in a few quick strides, my breath heavy, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Bianca,” I whisper, pulling her into my sweaty arms. She tries to push me away, her hands against my chest, but there’s no real strength behind it.
“Let go!” she protests, her voice trembling. “You can’t just?—”
I cut her off with a kiss, pressing my lips to hers with all the longing and desire that have been building up inside me. She stiffens for a moment, then melts against me, her resistance crumbling like it was never there. I seize the chance, kissing her deeply. Her lips are soft and yielding, and I can taste the sweetness of her mouth.
Every moment is electric, her breath mingling with mine, her hands pressed against my bare chest. My mind races with a whirlwind of desire and desperation, and I can’t get enough of her. My hands roam over her bare back, feeling the heat of her skin.
I lose myself in the taste of her, in the way she responds to me, greedily accepting my kiss. But then, she starts to push against my chest. I break the kiss, my breathing ragged, and meet her gaze. Her eyes are blazing with a mixture of anger and confusion.
“What the fuck , Rork?” she demands, her voice sharp. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Kissing you, obviously,” I respond, my brain still feeling fuzzy.
She scoffs, pulling herself away from me as she places her hands on her hips, completely forgetting that she’s nude except for that small scrap of fabric that apparently is called underwear. “Do you honestly think I would want you after the way you’ve treated me?”
“It sure seems that way,” I reply, my voice thick with the lingering taste of her. “You couldn’t help but touch yourself as soon as you were alone.”
Her eyes narrow even as heat shoots up her neck. “Were you listening to me?” she hisses.
“Kind of hard not to when you were moaning my name so loudly,” I say, a smirk crossing my lips as I remember how fucking hot it was to hear ‘Rork’ pass through her lips.
“You heard nothing ,” she snaps. “You’re seeing what you want to see?—”
I tighten my grip on her waist, pulling her closer, her erect nipples brushing against my chest and causing a jolt of desire to rush through me. My dick tightens in response. “Don’t you lie to me, Bianca,” I warn, my tone low and dangerous. “I know what I saw, and I know what I heard.”
Bianca raises her chin haughtily, her defiance a thin mask for the turmoil beneath. “I would never be turned on by you, Rork,” she declares, her voice sharp but trembling.
A slow smile spreads across my face. “No?” I murmur, my hands lightly skimming her curves. “You weren’t turned on at all by me, imagining my hands near your pussy?”
Before she can react, my hand slips between her thighs, pressing against the fabric of her panties. She gasps, her body betraying her as I feel her slick wetness there.
“Rork, stop,” she protests weakly, but her hips arch into my touch, and I groan with longing, the heat of her arousal searing through me.
“You’re soaked, Bianca,” I whisper, my voice rough with desire. “Don’t lie to me. You want this as much as I do.”
Her eyes widen, a mixture of shock and undeniable need. “This doesn’t mean anything,” she insists, but her voice falters, her breath hitching as I continue to tease her.
“Doesn’t it?” I challenge, leaning in to nip at her earlobe, my fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles. “Because your body is telling me something very different.”