12. Diego
CHAPTER 12
DIEGO
The perfect, lovely Maeve Sinclair is my wife, my possession…
And my personal toy to humiliate.
I can’t believe the stupid bitch went for this plan. I can’t believe she didn’t insist on asking more questions. With all the money her family has, what good reason could someone have for wanting to marry her? The only benefit in marrying a Sinclair is the money—and sometimes you don’t even get that. Just ask my dead mother.
I thought it would take many more months, if not a few years, to leverage myself into a position to take down the Sinclairs and destroy their empire, but here came Cornelius’s own daughter on a path set to ruin him. It might be delicious if I weren’t so fucking furious. No —it is delicious. I have room for both my anger and my enjoyment.
My plan to destroy their family and everything they stand for just got expedited.
My issues with Cornelius and my plans to avenge my mother are my only concerns. I’m a busy man, and running this city’s criminal enterprises takes time and a hell of a lot of muscle. There are a few sources of competition from those who think they might do the job better or think there’s power to be seized.
When my men told me there was a hot new car thief in business, I assumed it would be a typical criminal, a typical problem that a bullet or two would solve. I never would have believed the luck needed to find her behind the wheel.
The bullet I intended for Maeve went in her boss. From that day forward, she had someone else pulling the strings.
I only spent a few weeks playing with her. Sending her to cars and then leading her back to my garage, I learned what I could about her. Increasing the heat and watching her run were delicious, and I planned to enjoy chasing her out of town and celebrating her father’s ensuing panic.
So imagine my surprise when rather than a manhunt and missing flyers or interviews on Good Morning America , I wound up with Maeve Sinclair standing on my doorstep and looking for my mother.
My hand slides over the well-slapped cheeks of her ass. She’s surprisingly thick, considering the girl in my memories was such a skinny thing. This heart-shaped ass looks so damn good I can’t help that my cock responds to it like it belongs to someone else. I hate this little bitch with everything that I am, and I finally have her exactly where I want her. I need to remember that.
No matter how sweet her ass or tight her cunt, how much better will it feel when I fully get my revenge on her father? My cum drips down her legs, a preamble to that final meal, and I’m stupefied with lust as it paints her creamy thighs. No distractions. This isn’t a real marriage.
“Put yourself together. It’s time to go.” She’s not my family. She and her father made sure of that, but she sure as hell will pay.
She finally releases the shelf, hanging on long after my thrusts stopped like she wasn’t ready for it to end, hoping I’d take mercy on her and finish her off. She takes her panties out of her mouth and throws them across the room. Her cheeks glow a rosy hue, and there are tears in her eyes, but the humiliation and pain I aimed for are absent. She’s angry and horny because I didn’t make her come too.
She’s too much of a slut. She liked it.
“Fuck you, Diego,” she grits, echoing the sentiment written across her features. Her lips are hot and pouty like she was chewing on them while I fucked her.
“Fuck you, Husband ,” I correct her, arching an eyebrow and staring into her bright green eyes.
“Why did you do that?” she asks, pulling her pants up.
Arms crossed, I wait as she gets them over her hips and buttons them. Neither of us gives the ripped-up panties a second glance. Denying her orgasm gives me a sick sense of power I didn’t expect to enjoy from this setup. Smacking her clit last night did similar, but I didn’t realize she’d get off on it. I’ll be more careful from now on, and if I have my way, Maeve will never orgasm again.
The jeans have to be rough and uncomfortable against her soft cunt. The way she wants to attack me because I won’t fuck her more is one of the better parts of the day. She didn’t even try to wipe my cum off herself before sliding her pants back on. A lazy smile stretches my lips. Making his daughter my whore is a better plan than I ever could have come up with on my own.
Is she even uncomfortable? If I didn’t know better, I’d say the slut enjoys being painted in me, her new husband .
She slaps her hands against her hips like I give a fuck about her frustration, like she hasn’t figured out how badly she’s fucked up. I run a finger down her cheek, enjoying how clueless she is. She smacks it away.
“Don’t fucking touch me, Diego.”
I grab her hand and force her to meet my glare. “I will do whatever the hell I want to you, and you’re enough of a slut to enjoy it.”
A delicious squeal of outrage rips out of her as she stomps ahead of me to open the door. It’s hard to sweep dramatically out of a closet, but she manages it. One of the perks of being shaped like God made you for fucking. My cock twitches at the memory of how tight and hot her cunt was around me and how badly I want to be back inside her.
I need to remember not to spend too much time behind her. I can’t see reason. Walking faster to catch up with her and even the playing field, I grab her arm and slow her in her tracks.
If she thinks she’s angry now, just wait.
She yanks hard, trying to pull her hand out of mine so she can stomp off again, but she’s shit out of luck. Maeve is my prize to show off, and when you’re the kind of criminal I am, and she’s the kind of heiress she is, people in city hall know you. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone was already on the phone with her father, reporting the union while I was still railing his princess in the filthy supply closet.
When she doesn’t quit fighting me in a reasonable amount of time, I squeeze her injured palm until she squeals and submits. I intend to keep hurting her. I’m enjoying it—more than I should be, frankly. When I slide my gaze over, I realize I might not be the only one. Her bottom lip is between her teeth like she’s enjoying my roughness.
“What kind of slut wants to fuck her stepbrother this badly, Maeve?”
Her mouth drops open in offense, and I think she’s going to growl at me or something, but instead, she smiles. “You’re not my stepbrother anymore, Diego. You’re my husband.”
She’s too strong, too assured. What I did to her last night opened her up to me, and I thought I had her. I did enough to get her to marry me but not enough for her to crumple at the first sign of force. It will get a lot worse for her, and she’ll wish she did. I pull her down a different hallway than the one we came down before.
Her brow furrows like she realizes the change but isn’t sure enough about herself to comment. City hall is a big place with multiple courtrooms, and the little corner where they quickly perform marriages isn’t quite the scene I want for our first public appearance as husband and wife. A very public trial is happening today for one of my top men. I need to show my face anyway. Time to really drive the knife in.
“Come on. It’s time for everyone to see my new wife. We’ve both got a bit of a reputation, so it’s no use trying to keep our love a secret.”
Voices rumble, echoing in the vaulting marble courthouse.
“Diego,” she whispers my name, suddenly understanding the seriousness of the situation, just how publicly she’s going to be mine. I expect humiliation, but the stark fear surprises me.
“You don’t think they’re going to recognize me.” How on earth is a car thief and general bitch so innocent?
“I certainly do.”
Her voice breaks. “Please, no.”
She almost fools me, but I know better than to believe a Sinclair. “Stop making a fucking scene, or they’ll really get some interesting pictures of the Sinclair heiress.”
“Screw being the Sinclaire heiress. What if he sees me?”
“Who’s he?” Jealousy courses through me that there’s some other man she fears, and I’m genuinely clueless for a moment before I remember I know far more about the people she’s running from than she does.
“The person I’m running from.” Intense pleasure courses through me. She knows well enough to be afraid.
“I’m not worried about him,” I answer easily as I push her forward and perp-walk her across that courthouse like the little whore she is.
Just as I hoped, people stare at her hand in mine, and whispers of her last name surround us. The quiet little room where they perform weddings wasn’t the right area for a presentation, but the larger courtrooms where they perform real trials?
A line of cameras wait along the entrance, and as we pass, they call her name. Flashes partially obscure my vision as they photograph my pet heiress. Curious whispers and sideway looks follow us out the door, and I finally see the first hints of the humiliation I want so badly.
She’s staring at the floor, humble and jeans damp with cum by the time I get her to the end of the line.
Right as we’re on the top of the step, and they’ve all but forgotten about us, I press play on my phone.
“Please, I want my stepbrother to eat my cunt.”
Twenty or more pairs of eyes snap toward us.
The recording plays again and again. Her cheeks turn the brightest red, tears fall, and a flash bulb catches the moment perfectly.
This is the moment I was waiting for, everything I wanted from our wedding day, and she couldn’t have been a better sport for me last night. I barely had to press her to speak these filthy words, and now everyone gets to enjoy them.
“Please, I want my stepbrother to eat my cunt,” she says one more time.
Another version of her voice says, “I fucking hate you, Diego. I fucking hate you.”