Chapter 10 #2
Dean comes into view, waddling out from the crowd, his suit straining at the buttons as if even the fabric is offended to be touching him.
The chandelier light above catches the sheen of sweat on his bald head.
I stare at him a moment, wondering—as I always do—if this pathetic, wheezing man really spawned Isabella.
There’s not a trace of her in him. No fire, no defiance. She must take after her mother.
“It’s Mr. Moretti to you,” I say, voice clipped.
He startles, then forces a chuckle that dies too quickly. “Ah, yes. My apologies, Mr. Moretti.”
I let my gaze drag over him until his shoulders twitch under the weight of it. He’s the kind of man who smiles to your face and stabs you in the back. I dislike him—no, I despise him. A man willing to trade his own daughter to climb a rung higher in this city doesn’t deserve the title of father.
“I was wondering if we could have dinner together. Now that we’re family—”
Family. The sound of that disgusts me.
“How did you get an invitation?” I ask instead. It’s an invite-only event and I know every name on the guest list. I already know the answer. Men like Dean always find ways to crawl into rooms they don’t belong in.
He dabs his forehead with a handkerchief. “Friends in the right places.”
I almost laugh. Friends. Parasites like him don’t have friends, only hosts.
“This isn’t a room for men who borrow power.”
Dean’s throat bobs like he’s choking on my words. His eyes dart toward the doorway through which Isabella vanished. He’s still trying to use her as his bargaining chip, even now that she’s mine.
My jaw clenches. “Forget her,” I whisper, so soft only he can hear. “She’s no longer yours to use.”
Dean forces another weak smile. I leave him standing there, exactly where he belongs, on the outside, begging for scraps.
I step onto the balcony, momentarily mesmerized by the sight of Isabella. She looks so at peace, staring up at the full moon, her ginger hair spilling in loose waves down one side of her shoulders.
Opposite her, a man moves closer. He laughs at something she says, and the sound scrapes across my nerves.
I stay in the shadows, just long enough to hear her.
“It’s rare to find someone who knows that author,” she says, excitement brightening her eyes. “Everyone dismisses her as unrealistic, but her words—”
The man nods, holding the book in his palm. It feels like they’re sharing a special moment.
“I love this line,” he whispers softly and hands her the book, but I see how he intentionally brushes his hand against hers as he opens the book.
Something ugly spreads in my chest, and before I know it, I step forward.
Isabella sees me first. She freezes like a deer caught in headlights.
“Mr. Moretti,” the man stammers, bowing his head slightly.
I don’t acknowledge him yet. My gaze is locked on my wife, who looks like she’s realized the dangerous situation she’s in.
“Come here,” I say to her.
She hesitates. Only a second, but it’s enough to stoke the fire clawing through me. I pull her toward me. The man opens his mouth to speak, but words can’t save him now.
My free hand grabs him by his collar, and I slam him against the wall. “You touched her.” My voice is coated with pure, undiluted rage. “You dared put your filthy hands on my wife.”
The thought of ending him right here fills me with a dark, vicious satisfaction. My hands tighten over his throat as his gasp breaks into a strangled wheeze. I want to make sure he never gets the chance to look at her again.
“Dominic!” Isabella screams, scratching my arms with her nails. “Stop! Please… you’ll kill him.”
The man’s face is already darkening. He kicks uselessly, scrabbling at my wrist. With a snarl, I release him. He collapses into a heap on the floor, one hand gripping his throat as he coughs for air. His bloodshot eyes dart up before falling away.
“Next time you won’t be so lucky. Now get out of here!” I hiss.
He quickly scampers out, and my attention is solely focused on my wife. “Oh, you’ve broken so many rules, little wife,” I ground out, stepping closer. “And I’m going to enjoy your fucking screams.”
She looks at me like she finally understands what I am. “Stay the fuck away from me.”
Ignoring what she said, I bend and haul her over my shoulder. She lets out a gasp as my arm locks around the back of her thighs. Her fists pound against my back, but I don’t flinch. Instead, I deliver a sharp spank to her ass, and she stiffens.
I carry Isabella through the rear corridors, away from curious glances. By the time we reach the car, her breath is uneven.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I shove her inside and climb in after.
“Leave us,” I bark. The driver obeys quickly, shutting the door softly. The leather creaks as I grip her chin, forcing her eyes to mine. “What the fuck were you doing?” I growl.
Her lashes flutter, but her spine straightens, tits perched toward me. What a reckless, beautiful fool. My breathing evens slightly when she fists my wrist on her chin angrily.
“I was just talking,” she says through gritted teeth. “The real question is what the fuck were you doing?”
“He fucking touched you. You broke all my fucking rules.” My voice is laced with venom.
She scoffs, sharp and tense, “You could have killed Jeoffrey!”
Anger reignites in my veins, my fingers curling into a fist. The bastard even has a name.
“Don’t you dare mention his name,” I growl, barely restraining myself.
She finally forces her chin out of my grasp, her furrowed brows straightening in realization.
“Why?” She folds her arms below her tits, lips curling in scorn. “Scared that someone decent has a better chance than you?”
Something sparks in my chest, like a fuse going haywire. Fuck.
“One more word about that bastard,” my voice shakes with fury, “and I swear to God, Bella, I’ll put a fucking bullet through his skull.”
Her eyes widen, and understanding crosses her face when she sees the resolve in mine. There’s silence for a moment before she speaks again.
“I know what you’re trying to do.” She jabs a finger at me. “And I’ll never be yours.”
The way she says it with such intensity is almost laughable.
“Oh, you will be, Bella,” I tell her in a low, razor whisper. “Because I’ll claim you in life, and in hell; and if you haven’t already noticed, I’ll burn the fucking world down until eternity bends to my will.”
She pauses, a slight gasp pulling from her lips. My nostrils flare at the sight, and a primal urge overtakes me.
I rip the gown in one brutal tug, baring her thighs to my hands. She gasps, trying to push me back, but it only makes the blood run hotter in my veins.
“You’ve been very defiant,” I hiss, pushing her onto her stomach across the seat. “And defiant girls”—my palm cracks against her ass, and her cry muffles in the leather—“get punished.” I tear a strip of her ruined gown and bind her wrists.
Her breath is ragged, her body trembling, but her hips still arch into my palm, betraying her. “You feel that?” Leaning in, I murmur against her ear, spanking her again. “That’s me teaching you who you belong to.”
Her muffled whimper is half pain, half hunger. The sound shreds what little restraint I have left.
I drag her upright by her bound wrists, forcing her to straddle me fully. Her breasts spill from the torn bodice, and my hands close around them greedily. “You’re mine!” I growl, sucking a nipple hard enough to draw out another whimper. “Say it,” I demand. “Say who owns you.”
She shakes her head. I shove her back against the leather, parting her legs roughly until my fingers brush her folds. She tries to close her legs, but the sound that rips from her throat when I press harder tells me everything I need to know.
“You’re soaked,” I rasp against her ear, dragging my fingers through her wetness before spanking her pussy. “Tell me”—I force her chin up, making her meet my eyes—“is this for me or the bloody bastards who couldn’t keep their eyes off you?”
Her lips tremble, but no words come out.
In my book, no answer is a wrong answer. So I push two fingers inside her, pumping until her bound wrists strain against the restraints. Her hips jerk, helpless against the seat.
“When I ask you a question, you fucking answer me.” My free hand grips her throat, pinning her head back. “Who makes you this wet?”
Her body bows, a strangled moan escaping as my fingers hit the right spot. “Y-you—”
“Louder.”
“You! Dominic! You!”
Her orgasm coats my fingers as I drag them out slowly, bringing them to my lips and tasting her sweetness. My cock strains against my pants, but I force myself to shift away, creating barely enough distance between us. “Remember that the next time you let another man touch you.”
My suit jacket comes off my body with a single tug as I toss it at her. “Cover yourself.”
I signal for the driver to enter, and we drive back home in silence. Isabella stares out the window, a flustered, breathless mess just as she should be.
We get to the mansion, and I wait for her to get out of the vehicle before trailing behind her as we head inside.
When we reach the corner that divides the wings, she stops short, turning to me with anger. “You’re really a piece of work.”
The bite in her tone only makes me want her more. My lips twitch. “Come here.”
She squares her shoulders, not moving. Her fists clench by her sides, and she looks like she has more to say when I dash forward and crush her into me with a firm hand on her waist. Without warning, I fist her hair and crash my lips against hers, swallowing the moan that escapes.
I lift her easily, not breaking the kiss as I carry her to my room and throw her on the bed. “Take off your clothes.”
She’s breathless, but her eyes shine with defiance. “And if I don’t?”
My action answers for me instead as I rip the little remains of her dress off her. She lies fully exposed before me, her nipples hardening instantly in the cool air. I force myself not to touch them. Anticipation is its own form of torture.
Curiosity flashes in her eyes as I take out a black leather case from my nightstand. Her breath hitches audibly when I open the latch, revealing what’s inside. She swallows hard, lips parting. “Dominic…”
I take out the leather cuffs first. “Seems like you haven’t learned your lesson yet, Princess.”
She attempts to roll off the bed, but my body traps her.
“Get off me,” she screams, shoving my chest with her fists.
My cock throbs painfully, and I press it against her stomach, making sure she feels every inch of my arousal.
“Do you feel that?” I growl against her ear.
“That’s what your resistance does to me. ”
She stops struggling, smart enough to realize she can’t win against me. I close the cuffs tightly around her wrists and fasten them to the headboard. My fingers hook into her panties, and I drag them down her legs slowly. She moans, back arching as she uncontrollably spreads her legs.
I step back to watch her on my bed... bound, helpless, and so fucking beautiful.
Grabbing the riding crop from the case, I trail it over her bare skin. “This,” I murmur, “is for your disobedience.” The first strike lands across her thigh. She gasps, jerking against the cuffs. I hit her again, close to her pussy, watching as she cries out in pleasure.
“Be quiet,” I order, flicking the crop against her nipple. She throws her head back, moaning loudly as she pulls on the cuffs again.
“Please…”
“Please, what?”
She says nothing but her thighs grind together, a shameless attempt to get herself off.
“You think you get to cum without my permission?” I murmur, pressing the flat leather tip of the riding crop between her legs.
“Dominic…” she whimpers.
“That’s not an answer.” Slowly, I drag it along her soaked pussy, just enough to tease. “Beg me like the good girl you are.”
“Please, Dominic. Let me cum.”
“Good girl.”
I free myself, wrapping a hand around the base. She licks her lips hungrily. “God…”
“You don’t get God tonight.” I climb onto the bed, settling myself between her thighs. “Don’t move unless I say so.” My vein pulses, barely restrained as I push forward slowly, stretching her inch by inch. “You’re so fucking tight.”
She moans, hips flexing for more contact.
That earns her another strike from the crop, and I withdraw, leaving her empty and aching.
Her eyes follow me as I return to the open case.
When she sees what I pick next, a pair of nipple clamps connected by a fine silver chain, her eyes widen with a glimmer of fear.
“I-I’ve never done that before,” she whimpers.
“Relax, Princess. All you need to say is stop and I will,” I rasp, walking toward her. “But it won’t come to that because I know how to punish and pleasure you at the same time.”
Sinking to my knees beside her, I latch the clamps over her hardened nipples. She lets out a strangled moan that’s far too close to pleasure. I pull the chain, watching her writhe.
“Look at you, enjoying everything I do to you?” I growl, brushing the crop along her thigh again.
She pushes her hips forward, releasing a needy whimper that makes my pulse surge.
A guttural grunt escapes my lips as I release the cuffs around her wrists and position myself between her thighs once more. “You know the drill, Princess.”
I drive into her with one hard thrust, my hand gripping her jaw so she can’t look away. “This soaked pussy, this sweat-slicked skin, this fucking pleasure, you don’t get any of it without me.”