Page 7 of Wicked Union

"Why are you wearing clothing?" My fingers itch to undo the buttons on that cream-colored silk top. I've been craving the sight of her flesh laid out before me for days now, and that wedding gown she chose didn't do her any favors. This would have gone a lot easier for her had she not tempted me so much by covering herself so thoroughly.

"I don't take orders from you. You may be my husband but you're not my superior. The Peralta family?—"

"Enough!" I shout, cutting her off. I'm not angry, not even riled, but it startles her. Her hands curl into fists, tightly tucked beneath her arms. She looks down at her feet as I continue. "You take orders from me and you do what I tell you to do because I own you. Do you understand?"

Aria says nothing. She doesn't even move. I can see the rage simmering behind her eyes, ready to burst out in an explosive display, but she's good at containing it. That's a good thing.Any wife of mine will have to have excellent self-control of her emotions. This business isn't for the faint of heart or the weak of conscience.

"Now," I say, walking up to her. I cup her cheek, pushing some of her long, dark hair behind her ear. "I want you undressed now and spread on my bed, or I will own your entire family's organization—the businesses, the bank accounts, every asset in title and deed, and I will bury them."

She draws in a sharp breath and meets my gaze with fury burning in her eyes. "You can't do that. You have no right. We have an agreement."

Has no one told this woman anything? I roll my eyes at her and move to my dresser. The drawer is tossed when I open it. Some of my old photo albums and memories of my mother which I keep in this drawer are no longer organized. She has been through my papers, but this agreement was clearly not what she was looking for. She probably thinks she's read it all and only glossed over the fine print.

I pull the marriage contract out and flip to the fourth page, where her first lesson will be found. Tapping the center of the page, I thrust it out toward her. "Read it," I bark, and she scowls at me, but with wide eyes she looks down. After a few seconds, she takes the paper into her hands and sinks onto the foot of the bed.

Her eyes pore over the lines of contract, one specific clause indicating that as my wife, she will do as I say or she will forfeit the agreement, and defaulting on the agreement will mean her family relinquishes everything to me. It's standard for agreements like ours, where one party's loyalty to another may mean a great financial risk. I myself have a clause in theagreement that details how any physical harm done by me or on behalf of me against Aria will result in forfeiture of any assets I've invested in the Peralta organization.

Her eyes sweep over the document and her shoulders drop. Aria says nothing, but I can see she understands now. She is mine to do with as I please, and if she does not obey my every whim, I own her family. It's so much better to own her, which is what I'm looking forward to doing next.

"Now, are we clear?"

Again I'm met with silence, but she does jut her chin out in a very defiant expression, tears misting in her eyes. She stands and stares at the window across the room. The city's skyline in the distance twinkles. It's a breathtaking view, but she's not admiring its beauty. She's avoiding eye contact.

"Take your clothes off," I say again, and I see her lower lip quiver briefly before her hands rise to the buttons on her shirt. She slowly begins to undo them, one at a time, painstakingly caring for the delicate pearl buttons and soft silk beneath. "Not like that," I tell her, moving toward her in frustration. "Like this."

With both hands, I grip the shirt and tear it open down the middle. Buttons fly, landing God only knows where, and she gasps and frantically tries to cover herself. The white lace of her bra against the warm tone of her Italian skin is breathtaking, but she covers it.

"Bastard," she spits out, but I pinch her chin and look her in the eye.

"Strip for me now, and your father can keep his home." She doesn't realize I already have her figured out. She's Daddy's littlegirl. She'll do anything to make sure Father Dearest is cared for, and now that I know her weakness, I can wield it like a sword.

"What, no music?" she says sardonically, and I step back to watch the show.

She's no dancer, but the way she peels layer after layer of clothing off still turns me on. She hesitates when she gets to her bra and panties. They match perfectly, and the lace hugs her ass like a glove. She stands in front of me twisting her fingers together as if she's a fucking virgin, but I know better than that. No virgin kisses the way she kissed me at that church this afternoon.

"Naked, now," I order, and her shoulders drop farther, if that's possible. She's so meek now, putty in my hands.

"I hate you," she mutters, but she does as I say.

Her tits are perfect, symmetrical and evenly proportioned to her body. Her nipples are just the right size, not too large, not too small, and the scent of arousal wafts toward me when she shimmies her panties down. This is having the right effect on her.

"You will obey me now?" I ask her, knowing she will.

She drops the final vestiges of her clothing onto the floor in the pile and stands in front of me stark naked. I reach for my groin, rubbing the solid tool beneath my slacks with the heel of my hand. She's made me rock hard, and God, I want to fuck her, but she still has some things to learn.

"Now, turn around and bend over. Spread yourself so I can see your pussy drip."

Again there is hesitation in her expression, but something else is there too—desire. She's attracted to me, and she likes when I order her to do things. But it's a hidden desire she'll never tell me about. I'd almost guarantee it.

Aria waits long enough that I grow impatient. She's testing me, and she won't like the way it makes me react.

"I said, turn around and bend over, now." My voice is raised, my chest tight, and she purses her lips as she turns and bends over the foot of the bed, reaching back with one hand to spread herself and reveal those holes I want to do very bad things to.

Her pussy glistens with the sweet moisture of her arousal, and my job here is done. Now to enjoy the fruits of my labor.

7

ARIA

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