Chapter 15
15
ARIA
The room is quiet, except for my shallow breathing. My palms remain pressed against the cool wood of the table, my skin still buzzing and raw where he just spanked me.
I don’t want to move.
Every nerve in my body is awake, humming with energy. Every inch of my skin tingles with the kind of anticipation sensations that only Nicolas can satisfy. A slow-burning heat curls in my stomach, growing tighter with every passing second as I wonder what comes next.
More spanking? Will he order me to beg him? To get on my knees? To apologize with his cock in my mouth?
The possibilities send a shiver through me. It’s maddening not knowing how far he’ll go.
He slides my panties down, and to my surprise, his warm lips press against my ass cheeks. A slow kiss on one and then the other. My breath catches.
Then, he pulls me back, turning me to face him. That ravenous, hungry look in his eyes makes my pussy clench. My body tightens in response, anticipation curling low in my stomach.
His hands trail between my legs, teasing, deliberate.
“Luckily for you, Bambina,” he murmurs, “I have somewhere else to be right now. So we’ll take it easy tonight.”
But as his fingers find that spot between my legs, his definition of taking it easy proves to be anything but. He pauses before he pushes three fingers in.
A sharp gasp escapes me before I remember where we are. I bite my lip, trying to suppress the sound, and heat floods my cheeks.
That’s not taking it easy.
“You have to be quiet,” he warns, amusement lacing his voice as he continues pumping into me. “If you make too much noise, my men might come running to check on you.”
My breath hitches, my gaze snapping toward the glass door. The freaking glass door. They wouldn’t even have to step inside to see this.
I can’t let that happen. Matteo would never take me seriously again.
Yet, my body trembles with excitement at the reckless possibility of being caught. Desire clouds my judgment, making every touch feel intoxicating.
He doesn’t withdraw his fingers from my pussy. Instead, he leans in, capturing my lower lip between his teeth before releasing it with a slow pull. His eyes stay locked on mine, dark and unreadable, while he’s finger-fucking me. The intensity of his gaze alone sends a shiver through me. Eye contact. I mentally add it to the list of things I like in bed—right beneath the way his touch is unraveling me now.
Without thinking, I wrap my hands around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss.
He responds instantly. His hands slide from my core to my waist, gripping me firmly as he pulls me flush against him. His mouth is possessive, demanding, like he’s been holding back for too long. And I melt into him.
He presses his knee between my legs, and a sharp gasp escapes me as warmth floods through my body. He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes.
“You want me.” His voice is low, certain. It’s not a question—it’s a fact.
I swallow, my breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. “Nicolas…”
“Your body is already telling me,” he murmurs. “But I need to hear it from you.”
His hand slides beneath my dress, fingers grazing my waist, sending shivers up my spine.
I close my eyes for a moment, then exhale. “I want you, Nicolas. Show me the consequences of my actions.”
I press against his erection, my fingers digging into his shoulders as if anchoring myself. The need is undeniable, overwhelming, something I can’t explain.
A low, satisfied sound rumbles in his chest as his hands grip my sensitive ass. There’s a hint of roughness, a controlled intensity that makes my skin tingle. It’s a sensation that lingers, toeing the line between pleasure and something deeper.
I’ve learned since we fucked not to fight—not when it takes hold so completely. My heart may war with him, but my body has already surrendered, drawn to him with a force beyond reason. And for now, I let it.
His hand trails upward, gathering the fabric of my dress until it rests just above my breasts. He ties it in place, then pushes my bra down, exposing my skin to the cool air. A sharp gasp escapes me as his thumb grazes over my nipple, teasing, testing. Before I can react, he grips my hair, tilting my head back until I’m forced to meet his gaze.
“I need to see your face,” he murmurs. “I want to watch what each touch does to you.”
His thumb brushes over my lower lip, lingering before he returns his attention to my body. Another slow tug at my nipples, another shiver coursing through me. My legs weaken beneath me, heat pooling low in my stomach. The more he pulls, the more sensitive those buds become.
“Fuck, Bambina,” he breathes, his voice rough. What am I going to do with you?”
A quiet whimper escapes me. He’s looking at me like I’m his to unravel, pressing his knees on my pussy, flicking my nipples, and yanking my hair painfully. Every sensation blends into the next—pleasure, pain, anticipation coiling inside me, making it impossible to think. My pussy clenches where he just shoved three fingers in. I start to feel my orgasm build.
Already?
Then he lifts me off the ground easily and places me on the table. I can’t help the squeak that pops out as my butt lands on the smooth, cold wood. His fingers tip my chin up, guiding me to meet his eyes once more. This time, he doesn't need to tilt my head back as far.
And this time, when his mouth captures mine, his tongue teases along my lower lip, tasting, claiming.
I open for him immediately, just as hungry as he is for me. When his tongue slides against mine, a low groan escapes both of us, the sound vibrating between our lips.
He travels up my thighs, slowly and deliberately, before gripping my waist with firm possession.
He pulls me forward, and I gasp into the kiss because his cloth-covered length drags along my inner thigh before pressing into my center, coasting over that little bundle of nerves that makes my pulse jump each time I dare to touch it.
Nicolas tugs me closer, eliminating every inch of space between us. My body reacts instinctively, shifting, tilting, seeking more. Our movements sync, breathless and unrestrained, each sensation more intoxicating than the last.
“You’re so needy,” he murmurs, his voice rough with satisfaction. “I like it.”
His hands slide up my torso, and he cups my breasts with a possessive ease. “Your nipples make my mouth water.” Then, he dips his head, his lips closing around one of them, drawing a gasp from me. My back arches, my body instinctively pushing toward him, craving the contact I can’t quite reach.
He shifts, pressing my legs wider apart, and wraps them around his waist, pulling me closer. I moan when the hard length of him brushes against me, the heat of him sending a shock of pleasure through me. The fabric of his pants brushes against me, the friction almost unbearable in its intensity.
I tighten my legs around him, drawing him even closer, my body moving instinctively, hips lifting and swaying with the rhythm we’ve created.
Then, his hand finds that place I need, that ache I’ve been unable to escape.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re wetter now.”
His lips find their way to my other nipple, his tongue flicking over it with delicious pressure. I shudder as he alternates between sucking and pinching, driving me to the edge of control.
Before I can catch my breath, he kneels, pushing aside my panties, and runs his tongue over my pussy with a slow, deliberate swipe.
“Nicolas,” I gasp, my body shaking with anticipation.
He gently parts me with his fingers, his gaze fixed on me with such intensity that it feels almost reverent. I clench in response, and his eyes widen in pleasure.
His tongue brushes against me, once, then again, each flick sending waves of sensation through me. I can barely catch my breath, my body overwhelmed with need, struggling to focus on anything other than the heat building between us.
His two fingers slide inside me, and the pleasure is sharp, almost too much to handle. My hips rock instinctively, arching into him, seeking more.
His tongue on my pussy continues its steady, teasing rhythm, each motion pulling me deeper into the moment. He pumps me with three fingers, then four, each thrust driving me higher, my legs tightening around him, urging him closer.
The sound of his movements fills the space between us, and before long, the pressure inside me begins to build as I am nearing orgasm. My body trembles, so close, so dangerously close to breaking.
Somehow, even as his fingers work inside me, his free hand finds its way up, teasing my already sensitive nipple. A sharp jolt of pleasure shoots through me, pushing me to the very edge.
I’m right there. Just one more second?—
And then he stops.
His fingers withdraw, his movements cease entirely, and the orgasm that was so close to consuming me suddenly vanishes.
I look down at him, eyes wide with desperation. “Ni… Nicolas,” I manage to whisper, my voice unsteady.
He’s smiling. Watching me. His gaze flicks between my clenching pussy and my eyes, dark with amusement.
“I don’t know if you forgot, Bambina.” He murmurs,” but this is supposed to be a punishment.”
Realization crashes over me like a tidal wave. My heart pounds as I grasp exactly what he’s doing. I should have known—should have expected it the moment he stopped the spanking.
Nicolas isn’t just playing with me. He’s holding me hostage, my pleasure entirely at his mercy.
And he wants me to beg him.
The thought stings, but the ache inside me is worse. If I don’t come now, I might just unravel completely.
“Nicolas.” My voice is barely a plea.
He flicks his tongue against my clit in the briefest, cruelest touch before pulling back. “Are you going to mock me in front of my men again?” he asks his voice low and taunting.
I shake my head.
He flicks.
“Are you going to challenge me in front of my men again?”
Another shake. Another flick.
“Are you going to challenge me at all?”
I start to shake my head, but then I stop. I can’t promise that, and I won’t promise that. Nicolas drives me insane in every possible way. Of course, I’m going to challenge him. It’s inevitable.
“I see,” he murmurs, amusement lacing his voice as he chuckles, still maddeningly close to where I need him. Then, he starts to rise.
Panic surges through me.
I reach for him, desperation slipping into my voice. “Please,” I whisper, my fingers grasping at his shirt. “Please, Nicolas. Don’t do this.”
“Do you need to come, Aria?” he asks—his voice low and teasing.
“I…”
“Do you want me to make you come?”
“Yes. Please.” I breathe out, my voice shaky with need.
He pinches my nipple, drawing gasp from me, and I can’t stop the groan that follows. “So responsive,” he murmurs, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “Then beg me. Beg me to make you come.”
“Please, Nicolas,” I beg, my voice trembling, the words slipping out through the haze of desire. “Please, make me come on your face.”
His grin widens. “As you wish.”
As his mouth returns to my pussy, his two fingers slide inside me, finding their rhythm effortlessly. The pressure is perfect. I move against him, my hips rocking in sync with his motions, the world narrowing to just the feeling of him, the perfect tension that only he can provide.
I can’t stop the desperate whines and grunts that escape me as he increases his pace. My body trembles, pressing him closer as the sensation builds.
“Come on your husband's face,” he breathes, his voice rough. “Let him taste your wet, creamy juices.”
And then, it happens—like a rush of energy flooding through me, a wave of pleasure that courses through every part of me, filling me completely.
He doesn’t stop until the tremors fade, until the last shiver subsides. Then, he rises, his hand grabbing the back of my head, and crashes our lips together.
His lips are hungry and intense, and he kisses me with the same urgency as he did with the lips between my legs. Using his tongue, sucking, biting, lapping. Then he pulls back to look at me.
“The next time you push me, the consequences will be worse,” he warns, his tone serious.
Though his words hold weight, the idea of what might come next stirs something deep inside me, making my body pulse once more.
I straighten slowly, brushing my hair out of my face as I try to collect myself. The ache between my legs lingers, an overwhelming reminder of everything that just happened. I want more. I shouldn’t, but I do.
I expect him to say something; instead, he’s gone. Leaves me here, flushed and wanting.
Frustration bubbles up inside me, and I exhale sharply. I glance around the room, my mind still spinning. As I gather myself, my eyes fall on the papers he left behind. I look at the glass door, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
I don’t know how long it’ll take him to notice that the paper is missing, so I move quickly. I sift through the documents, my fingers moving with urgency, searching for something useful.
My body is still on fire, but it doesn’t matter. The moment has passed, and now it’s time for me to think. This is what I need to regain control of my life, and Marco can help me do that.
I don’t want to remain trapped as the wife of a mafia boss, someone who will never truly love me. He may want me, lust after me, but love? I don’t see that ever happening.
Something catches my eye, and I freeze. It's a single sheet of paper with bold markings that stand out against the white. As I study it, I see that it’s a map, lines and coordinates crisscrossing the page. Locations are marked with red circles, and handwritten notes accompany each one.
The more I study the paper, the faster my heart races. This isn’t just a map—it’s something much more. Important information.
The mission Marco drilled into me flashes in my mind. I promised him I’d find something useful, and this… this could be it.
My fingers tremble slightly as I pull out my phone, capturing the image with a quick camera click. I angle it carefully, making sure to get the entire page. The rush of adrenaline washes away everything else—the confusion, the lingering warmth of Nicolas’s touch from earlier, the desire.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and leave the office. Outside, there’s no sign of Nicolas or his men. Just my driver, patiently waiting.
I glance back toward the office, the documents still sitting on the table. Anyone could walk in and find them. Anyone could take a picture, just like I did. I don’t know if Nicolas was this careless—or maybe he was just distracted by what happened between us.
Whatever the reason, if that information ends up in the wrong hands, it’ll be bad for him.
I walk back into the room, pick up the files, and tuck them under my arm.
I can’t help but recognize the irony in my actions. I took a picture of the information to give to my brother, but now I’m trying to protect it from others.
I have no fucking clue what’s going on in my head.
The car ride home stretches on forever. The leather seat beneath me is cool, and the faint scent of Nicolas lingers in the air. I cross my legs, trying to shake off the restless energy still buzzing through me.
I pull out my phone, scrolling through it aimlessly. Social media feels like a connection to something simple, something normal. It’s been months since I’ve opened these apps.
The first thing that catches my eye is a picture of Lisa and Rachel, two girls I once called friends back in college. They’re sitting at a rooftop bar, champagne glasses raised, their faces glowing in the evening light. The caption reads, “Cheers to the good life!”
I stare at the picture for a moment, my chest tightening. Lisa and Rachel were always inseparable, even back in college. I’d been the third in our trio, but now it feels like I was never even part of it.
And now? Nothing.
I rest my head against the window, the cool glass soothing against my temple.
I don’t remember the girl I was before I moved back in with my brother. It’s like I’ve lived two completely different lives—one that no longer exists and another I barely recognize.
And in this one, I have no friends, a mafia husband, and a brother whose loyalty I’m no longer sure of.
The city lights blur past as the car weaves through the streets.
I think of Nicolas and the words he spoke last night.
This is your life now. You need to get used to it.
At the time, it felt like a threat. Now, it feels like an undeniable truth.
I close my eyes, the weight of everything pressing down on me—my father’s death, Marco’s expectations, Nicolas’s presence. My old life slipping further and further away.
Who am I without it?
The car slows as we approach the mansion. I open my eyes, watching the grand gates swing open, silent and imposing.
This is my life now.
And I have no idea how to survive it.