Chapter 17 – Iris
It was official. I was his wife now.
Iris Hart was gone the moment he slid that diamond ring onto my finger. And just like that, my life as I knew it was no more.
I stood by the window, still dressed in my ivory gown, my eyes fixed on the rain trickling down the misted glass. My heart was heavy with emotions: sadness, anger, uncertainty, and pain.
Tears stung my eyes, but I’d already told myself that I was done crying. It wasn’t going to change anything. Crying wouldn’t erase the past few weeks or prevent Ilya from showing up at my doorstep at night.
As badly as I wanted this to be some nightmare that I was going to wake up from, it wasn’t. Unfortunately, this was my new reality. I was now the wife of a brutal Mafia boss, trapped in an unfamiliar world.
The change in the way I was treated around here was instant. The guards and the domestic staff hardly looked me directly in the eyes since we arrived this evening.
It was almost like they now feared and revered me as they did Ilya. I wasn’t comfortable with that because it meant they could no longer speak freely around me like equals.
I guess one of the disadvantages of bearing a powerful last name.
The door creaked open behind me, and I saw his reflection in the misted glass as he stepped inside. Ilya closed the door slowly before crossing the room with silent footsteps.
He’d shed his black jacket, leaving only his crisp white undershirt, with the sleeves neatly folded. The top three buttons were undone, and his bow tie hung loosely around his neck.
He cleared his throat behind me, as if trying to get my attention.
I didn’t turn, but I didn’t take my eyes off his reflection either. As much as it pained me to admit it, he looked really good in that suit today.
Tonight, without the jacket and the current position of his tie, he looked rather ravishing. Sexy. I wanted to hate myself for still finding him attractive despite all that was happening. But clearly, I wasn’t in control of that particular part of me.
“You know, as my wife,” he began, his voice low and even. “It’s customary that you and I share a room.” A pause. “It’s not proper for the woman of the house to be sleeping in the guest room.”
I hesitated. “What if she likes the guest room and doesn’t wanna leave?” I turned to face him. “Will you force her to your bidding?”
Silence.
“You think lowly of me, Iris.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m just trying to understand the man I signed away my freedom to.”
“You make it sound like you’re a prisoner here.”
“Am I not?”
“No, you’re not,” he replied, holding my gaze as he closed the gap between us. “You’re my wife. And if you understand even a fraction of what that means, you’ll never think of yourself as anything less.”
I swallowed, jaw clenched. “Tell me. What does it mean to be your wife?” A brief pause. “What’s so special about that?”
“Maybe nothing, especially to a strong, independent woman like you.” He stopped in front of me, his imposing frame towering over me.
Why did his words sound so soothing?
“But once you understand the power at your disposal, the things you control—the things you own—it changes everything.”
I searched his eyes for signs of insincerity but found none. “I don’t…I don’t feel like I own anything, Ilya. Not even my own life.”
His hand reached out, fingers brushing the strands that framed my face. “That’s because you haven’t let go of your old reality and accepted your new one.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s—”
“Trapped in a marriage with a woman who thinks he’s a monster?” he cut me off.
Silence.
I realized that my voice had dropped significantly since the remark about my independence and strength. The air had quietly shifted as well, and the longer I stared into those steel-grey eyes, the stronger the desire swelling within me grew.
What the hell was happening right now? Why were all my defenses down all of a sudden? How did we get here? I thought we were only having a rational conversation? What’s with all the sexual tension flying in the air?
When the back of his fingers caressed my cheek, the touch sent jolts of electricity through my body. My heart was pounding against my ribs, anticipating what I was almost certain was about to happen.
He leaned in.
I told myself to step back, to shove him away and remind him that I still had a choice. That giving in would only make the cage tighter. But I couldn’t bring myself to. It was as though my feet were planted.
His mouth hovered inches from mine, his warm breath brushing my lips. I could smell the faint spice of his cologne mingling with the clean scent of his skin. Every logical part of me screamed that I would regret this later, as I did the last time.
My heart raced in my slowly heaving chest as his mouth drew nearer. In an instant, I damned the consequences and closed the distance myself.
The kiss was immediate and hungry. I grabbed him by the collar, tipping my head and matching the tilt of his.
His tongue slid against mine, slow at first, then deeper, claiming the inside of my mouth like he already owned it.
A soft sound escaped me. He answered with a low rumble in his chest and pulled me flush against him. He devoured my lips with intense fervor, his arm banding around my waist so there was no space left between us.
I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. Not after I felt the print of his erection on my belly.
My fingers found the buttons of his shirt, struggling to undo them. I worked at them as his hands moved to the back zipper of my gown.
The soft rasp of it unzipping filled the quiet room. He didn’t wait for the fabric to fall. His palms slid up over the bodice, cupping my breasts through the ivory silk and lace, squeezing with just enough pressure to make my breath catch.
I felt every cell in my body come alive.
When the buttons refused to cooperate, something inside me snapped. I gripped the fabric and yanked it hard, forcing the threads to pop. Buttons scattered across the floor with small, sharp sounds.
We both froze for a second, breathing hard, staring at the small white discs on the carpet.
His eyes were shining with sheer desire, like he couldn’t wait to bury himself deep inside me.
Then his mouth was back on mine, hotter than before.
He tugged the upper part of the gown down my arms. The material pooled at my waist, leaving me in the thin lace bra.
His hands returned to my breasts, kneading them over the lace. My nipples hardened under his palms. A soft, involuntary sound left my throat. My eyes fluttered half-shut, heat pooling low in my stomach, sharp and insistent.
I reached for his belt, and the leather slipped free easily. My fingers popped the button on his trousers and slid my hand inside, past the waistband of his underwear.
My fist closed around him. Thick. Hard. Already fully aroused. I stroked him slowly from base to tip, feeling the heat of him against my palm, and a low curse left his mouth against my lips.
“Fuck.”
He unhooked my bra with one practiced motion, and the lace fell away. Cool air touched my skin for only a second before his hands replaced it, bare now, squeezing and rolling my nipples between his fingers.
Pleasure shot straight down my spine, my head tipping back in ecstasy. I bit my lip to keep from moaning too loudly.
He leaned down and took one breast in his mouth, sucking and twirling his tongue around my peak. While at that, he was simultaneously caressing the other boob.
I shoved at his chest, something primal rising within me. It was as though my body was taken over by a version of me I didn’t know existed. Bold. Viscous.
He let himself fall backward onto the bed. I climbed over him, straddling his hips, and kissed him again—deeper, messier.
My hair fell around us like a curtain. I reached between us, freed his cock completely, and stroked him while I held his gaze. The look on his face—jaw tight, eyes dark, the muscle in his cheek jumping—made something reckless unfurl inside me.
He stared at me like he couldn’t recognize the woman on top of him. And it wasn’t just him. I couldn’t recognize her either.
I shifted my soaked panties to the side, guiding him to my wet entrance. Slowly, I sank down, my eyes still locked on his face.
The stretch was familiar now, but still intense. I took him inch by inch until he was fully seated inside me.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered almost to himself without tearing his gaze off me.
The words sent shivers down my spine as I began caressing my own body. A shaky breath left my lungs, and soon, my hands were braced on his chest.
I started to move.
Slow at first. Rolling my hips, lifting almost all the way off him before sinking back down. The friction drew a soft moan from my throat.
Fuck!
I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed this feeling until now.
I threw my head back and brought my hands to my own breasts, molding them and pinching my nipples the way his fingers had.
He reached out, his hands settling on my hips. He gripped hard enough to leave marks on my skin, guiding the rhythm of my slow whines without forcing it.
“Oh, my God,” I breathed, biting my bottom lip.
My hips rolled against his hard cock as I rubbed my neck, basking in the sensation coursing through my body.
It felt so good.
I quickened the pace, thighs burning as I rode him harder, faster, chasing the heat coiling tighter and tighter in my core.
“Oh, yes,” he groaned, his husky voice fanning the fires of my desire.
My hands tangled in my own hair, pulling it back from my face.
The bed creaked beneath us as he sat up beneath me, still buried deep. The change in angle made me cry out.
He threw his hand around my waist to keep me from slipping while his mouth found my left breast. He sucked hard, teeth grazing the sensitive peak as his hands squeezed the soft flesh.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him again, open-mouthed and desperate.
He flipped us without warning.