8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Luciana
After a few hours, Matteo finally returns to the bedroom. My arms are aching and my wrists are sore from where I tried tugging at the silk ties.
Without a word, he unties me and I don’t hesitate to jump to my feet.
“How could you do this to me?” I ask. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”
The look he gives me is cold. No emotion. “Did I hurt you? I’m trying to teach you a lesson, Luciana. I don’t want to be married to a wife who sees me as a monster but if that’s the only way it’s going to take to break you, then so be it.”
“Break me how?”
He towers over me. “Break you into showing me your real self. I’ve seen glimpses of it. You’re the perfect little wife and yet, you’re so tense. I fucking hate it.”
His curse word makes me startle. There’s something so passionate about it. I see a tiny flicker of emotion in his eyes. Anger or passion. I’m not sure which.
“I married you for peace,” he continues. “I’m not going to kill you. So stop seeing me as a monster.”
“You just tied me to the bed for hours. I’ll only ever see you as a monster.”
“Answer me this, Luciana. Did you like our kiss?”
“What?”
His smirk makes me both angry and excited at the same time. “You kissed me back earlier. So tell me, did you like it? And be honest for once.”
“I shouldn’t have liked it,” I whisper.
“Why shouldn’t you have? We’re married. Isn’t a good wife supposed to kiss her husband?”
“Yes,” I admit. “But a good wife is also not supposed to like the kiss of her husband who has done terrible things. I should be better. In every way.”
“Wouldn’t life be more fun if you just gave in?”
“Gave in to your darkness?” I shake my head and step away from him but he only follows me. Once my back hits the wall, I know I’m stuck. “I can’t do that. I have my image to protect.”
“Fuck your image. I think you already ruined that when you smacked Alexandra Ricci in the face. Word gets around fast.”
I gasp. “I didn’t mean to do that. She is just so…”
He quirks an eyebrow. “So?”
“So exasperating.”
“You need a release. You need to let go of this tension inside of you and I know how to help.”
“How?”
He stands so close to me, his entire front body is almost pressed against mine. Almost. There’s a tiny sliver of space between us but I know that’s going to disappear any moment.
“Just enjoy this,” he murmurs before bringing his lips to my cheek. It’s not what I’m expecting and I hold still to see what he does. When his lips brush down my neck, I can’t help but arch my neck back. It feels good, I can admit.
My body is tingling with so much emotion I can’t even make sense of it. His lips continue to linger on my neck. Gentle and soft. A whimper escapes my lips. I don’t even know why.
His hands find my hips and give them a squeeze. Matteo is a strong, masculine man. A very handsome one. I’ve known this since the first moment I met him. So why am I resisting someone who so many women would love to be with?
I’m attracted to him, I can admit deep within myself. That makes me feel ashamed. How can I be attracted to a man who has kidnapped a woman? Who tried to kill some of my father’s men?
And yet, I have to do my duty. I should give in to Matteo’s touch. I want it and don’t want it at the same time. It’s all so conflicting.
He grabs the end of my dress and pushes it around my hips. I gasp when his hands grip my thighs. It doesn’t hurt like I thought it would. Instead, it feels like my entire body is a live wire being touched. I’m exposed.
“This will feel good,” he says darkly into my ear before his fingers find my panties and pull them down. They slide down my legs and pool at my feet. Never have I been on display like this before.
Matteo looks me right in the eye as he brings his fingers straight to my most intimate area.
I gasp when his fingers brush against a sensitive spot.
A good spot. My clit. I was given sex education, even if it made my father uncomfortable.
Right in this moment, I’m glad I was taught things. It will help me.
But I’m not sure anything can save me from my husband.
“Open your legs wider,” he says, tapping my inner thigh.
“I can’t move.”
“Are you scared?”
“Yes.”
“Only scared? Or do you feel anything else?” He grabs my thighs and opens them wider before bringing his finger back to my nub.
When he runs his finger over it, my hips buck forward of their own accord.
The pleasurable sensation is unlike anything I’ve experienced.
I was taught to never touch myself. That good girls don’t do things like that.
But do good girls let their evil husbands touch them like this? I have no idea.
I wasn’t prepared for anything, even though I was taught what my future would be like since I was a little girl.
“Tell me,” he demands, running his finger over my clit. Pleasure spikes through my body, going straight to my toes.
“I feel…”
“Yes?” He keeps his eyes locked with mine as he touches me. It’s all so intimate. So taboo.
I find myself lifting my left leg to seek more of the pleasure he’s giving me. “It feels good,” I whisper.
His smirk tells me everything. “Good. I can show you so much pleasure, Luciana. I can help you get rid of this tension inside of you. Just give in to me.”
His finger is like magic on my nub. Flicking and rolling it around. He knows exactly what to do.
“Oh,” I sigh as my hips arch into his hand. With his eyes on mine, it’s like he has me under a spell and there’s no getting out of it. No saving me from my husband.
“Isn’t this better than being tied up?”
“Yes.” My hands grip his biceps without thinking about it. I just need something to steady me. Something to make me feel real because in this moment, it all feels like a fantasy.
“This is what can happen if you give in to me. You don’t have to fear me, Luciana. We can have fun together. You can do your duty while still enjoying yourself. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.”
“But you only married me for peace. Not for love. Not for me.” My admission is vulnerable. The most vulnerable I’ve ever been with him.
“I did. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you. I want you more than you realize.” He captures my lips in a heated kiss. I lean into it, whether I mean to or not. It just happens.
Matteo grips my thigh and brings it higher around his waist before touching my clit again. He rolls it around over and over and over again. I think I might die from this pleasure. It’s all so new and so perfect and so terrifying. I can’t make sense of it.
A spike of pressure builds in my body.
“What’s happening?” I whisper against his lips.
“You really are innocent, aren’t you? A true good girl. What does it feel like?” He runs his fingers over my nub harder. Firmer. The pressure builds and builds inside of me.
“It feels like… like…”
“Let go, Luciana.”
His permission is what I need.
A burst of pleasure explodes through me as my body tingles and shakes. I can’t keep my leg up but Matteo grabs it, holding on tightly.
The pleasure lingers in my body for a long moment after as I catch my breath.
“That was an orgasm,” he explains, gently kissing my lips. “You have heard of that before?”
“No.” I realize in this moment that my sex education might not have been as thorough as it should have been.
“It’s a feeling of immense pleasure. That’s what I can give you, Luciana. You don’t have to be so afraid.”
In this moment, I believe his words. I can do my duty to my husband and not feel ashamed of it. I can still be the perfect wife everyone expects of me.
But that thought makes my spine tense.
Matteo notices and pulls his hand away. The moment he does, I only feel cold.
“It’s going to take a while for you to learn, I can see.
” He puts my underwear back into place and lowers my dress around my waist. “If you want to do it this way, then we can. But you’re making it harder on yourself then you need to be. ”
A flash of anger hits me. “This is all new for me. I need time.”
“Fine. Take your time.” His tone isn’t warm or comforting. It’s only cold. I can see Matteo slip his mask back into place. He’s one to talk: always pretending himself.
I’m the one to leave the bedroom before he can. Before he can see how much he affects me. Before he can see how much I liked what he did to me.
Before he can see how much he’s hurting me.
I stare at the knife in the butcher’s block on the kitchen counter. I let Matteo touch me so intimately. I let him show me pleasure and it was perfect.
But I’m always reminded that I let the man who has hurt people touch me and I enjoyed it. What does that say about me?
My life would be easier as a widow. Then I wouldn’t have to fight so hard to be the perfect wife. I could just be on my own. I wouldn’t have to be pushed like this. Questioned like this. Inspected like this.
But I can’t get my hand to grab the knife. I can’t kill Matteo. I’m stuck, once again.
He’s at work, doing who knows what. Mafia work. Bad work.
It’s better I don’t think too hard about it.
The last thing I can do is stay here in this house, feeling like I’m losing my mind.
“Enzo,” I say as I walk outside. “I need to get my hair done.”
He doesn’t question me this time. At least I’m allowed out of the house. It’s one nice thing Matteo has done for me.
My mind flashes back to his hand between my legs and I blush. I press my legs together on the drive. Enzo’s eyes are on the road and not me so at least I can sit here in my own shame.
I loved what Matteo did to me and I can’t stop thinking about it.
My hairdresser talks away as I listen. It’s easier than speaking and admitting something out loud I don’t want to admit. Normally, my time at the hair salon is a relaxing one.
But today, my mind is in overdrive.
I have to be perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect. It repeats over and over in my head until I feel like I’m losing my mind. Give in to my husband. Fight my husband. Give in. Fight. Give in. Fight.
I don’t know what the right thing to do is but what I do know is that I can’t go back home right now. I need space. I need freedom to think.