Page 18 of Beneath the Shadows

I smack her ass. “You’re still crying,” I sneer. Reaching down, I run my finger through her soaked pussy. “You’re dripping for me,” I mumble, rubbing her clit. “Do you want to come?”

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice choked with tears.

“Stop crying and beg.” Her body quakes beneath my touch as she fights to hold back her sobs. I press harder against her clit, forcing a stifled whimper from her. “Beg,” I growl, my voice harsh and unrelenting, leaving no room for defiance.

“Please. Please let me come,” she pleads, her words barely holding together.

Yanking the plug out, I toss it aside and drive into her without warning. “You always take my cock in your ass so well,” I groan, pulling out only to thrust back in harder, making her scream again. The last remnants of control fade, and the pace becomes ruthless, each thrust harder and more brutal than the one before.

Tension coils tight in my balls, fueled by the sight of her blood and the sound of her desperate sobs. My cock throbs with the need to finish. I shove two fingers into her pussy, feeling her walls clench around them, but this was never about her pleasure—only mine.

I grip her hips, digging my fingertips into her flesh. She’ll wear the marks from my fingers and my crop for days. It’s that thought that pushes me over the edge. My cock throbs inside her, filling her ass. My breathing is heavy as I pull out and drag my finger through the cum leaking from her hole, swirling it around in her blood and dragging it up her back.

Sitting back, I admire my work.

“You will not wash this off tonight,” I say, my tone sharp and demanding. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she whimpers, barely able to speak.

Rising to my feet, I make my way toward the bathroom.

“Val?” she calls. I stop but don’t turn around. “I didn’t—” she starts, but I cut her off.

“You can finish yourself off while I shower,” I snap, my tone cold, as I disappear into the bathroom without a second glance.

Alessia

Valentino put his guards outside the honeymoon suite, locking me in as if I were a prisoner instead of his bride. The door might as well be iron bars, trapping me inside this gilded cage. I pace the room, fingers clenching and unclenching as anger and humiliation churn inside me. Each step reminds me of how little control I have, how I’m nothing more than his possession.

Then I hear it—the unmistakable sound of a woman’s scream, muffled but clear enough to reach me from down the hall. I grip the edge of the dresser, struggling to keep steady as fury courses through me. He’s flaunting his infidelity, making sure I hear every moment of it.

I catch my reflection in the mirror and pause, questioning why I’m still in this dress, hours after the ceremony. My makeup is flawless, my hair perfectly styled, but I barely even recognize the person looking back at me. As the tears finally fall, I begin to pull the pins from my hair and remove the makeup, trying to strip away everything that ties me to this day.

Sinking onto the edge of the bed, I bury my face in my hands. Every fiber of my being screams to run, to escape, but I know there’s no way out. Valentino’s grip on my life is ironclad. I think back to all the times I dreamed of a different future, one filled with love and happiness. How naïve I was to believe that was possible.

A knock at the door startles me. I quickly wipe the tears from my face and take a deep breath, forcing myself to regain some composure. When I open the door, a young woman from the estate staff stands there with a tray, her expression polite and professional.

“Mrs. Comiso, I’ve brought you some tea and a plate of fruit and cheese,” she says, her voice calm but gentle.

“Thank you,” I reply quietly, stepping aside as she places the tray on the small table.

“If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ring,” she adds, offering me a sympathetic look, likely noticing the tear stains on my face, before quietly leaving the room.

The door clicks shut behind her, and the silence settles around me, leaving me feeling even more alone. I sit down and pour myself a cup of hot water, letting the chamomile tea bag steep. Picking at the fruit, I’m grateful for the small gesture of kindness on what feels like the cruelest night of my life.

With the warm cup in my hands, I step out onto the balcony. The soft night air brushes against my skin as I gaze over the estate grounds stretching out before me, bathed in moonlight. Everything appears peaceful and calm, a sharp contrast to the turmoil I feel inside.

Leaning against the railing, my thoughts wander to the life I’ll never have. What would it be like to marry for love, to live freely, without the chains of this world? What if I had been born far away from the mafia’s reach, where power and control didn’t shape every decision, every breath?

The thought lingers, bittersweet, but I know it’s only a fantasy. There’s no escaping this life.

Walking back inside, I slowly untie the ribbon at the back of my wedding dress, loosening the tight corset. The dress slips off my shoulders and falls to the floor in a pile of satin and lace. Stepping out of it feels like shedding the last pieces of the day, a small, fleeting relief. I pull on an ivory silk nightgown and climb into bed, the exhaustion of it all finally taking over.

Sleep pulls me under, and for a few brief hours, I escape the nightmare of my new life.

* * *

A rough shake jolts me awake. Blinking, I look up and find Valentino standing over me, fully dressed, with an arrogant smirk plastered on his face. “Rise and shine,princess. If we don’t leave soon, we’ll miss our flight.”

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