Page 25 of One Savage Union

Her fists ball up at her sides, but she nods. She's upset and embarrassed, but her pointy nipples reveal she's also horny. I relish the vision as I step closer and run my hand down the side of one breast and the other. She shudders, and I smirk.

"Besides piccola ragazza, you are beautiful, and your body is irresistible. These are weapons that, when used properly, are as lethal as an AR-15."

She huffs. "I won't lease my body out to win favors or fights. Did you marry me to be your whore? I won't allow you to reduce my life to a bargaining chip you pass out to win wars."

The crack in her voice reveals her true feelings. She really must learn to hide her emotions. She's scared and timid as a dove. My dove.

I wrap my hands around her neck and hiss. "You're not my whore; you're my wife, la mia piccola palla di fuoco. But that doesn't change that men are stupid beasts rendered senseless and numb when their dicks get hard. That, my love, is a biological fact. Be proud of what these sweet tits and that pussy of yours can do to a fool. Walk boldly in your power."

I reach down and yank her lace panties against her pussy until they tear. Her moans awaken the beast in me, and I place a kiss behind her ear.

"Until I tell you otherwise, you are to remain naked. Am I clear?"

She gulps and nods. I release her neck and lead her by the hand to the bathroom.

"Come," I growl.

My fingers tighten around hers. I can't trust Lucia to stay without the shackles of my grip. She'll run because she doesn't trust me not to kill her in cold blood, or worse, take something from her she doesn't freely give. She'll learn that I take care of my possessions.

I will never harm her. I won't enjoy this sweet body of hers until she gives it to me. I don't rape women, and I don't tolerate men that do. Their lives end by castration before I feed their balls to them. They choke to death on their filthy blood.

However, that doesn't mean I won't push her comfort limits. Or that I won't punish that beautiful ass of hers if needed. Her safety is paramount, and security requires her obedience. I may demand she stay naked and talk dirty until I make her blush. But that's only to prepare Lucia for her new reality as a mafia princess.

One day soon, she may have to stare down the end of a gun barrel or be kidnapped by our enemies. She can't allow her nakedness and some misplaced sense of modesty to break her before the fight begins. My mother died with dignity anddefiance. Lucia must own and love every inch of herself with reckless abandon. It's clear she doesn't know how, but I will teach her.

I also won't lie to her. Whether she allows me to fuck her tonight or next week without the proverbial bloody sheets, our union is vulnerable. She may or may not be a virgin. Either way, I can tell her experience is limited.

A woman who's accomplished as much as she has in the classical music world has little time for passionate affairs, and the barriers around her heart are as tall as the fucking Berlin wall was in the eighties. My fireball isn't a fan of vulnerability; that much is clear.

I step into the white-marbled Roman shower and turn on all four jets. The water comes like a waterfall, and steam rises immediately. My clothes are soaked, but I don't care, especially when I see my new wife eyeing my chest through the wet fabric.

I take care of myself and never miss a day of training at the gym. Between weightlifting and Krav Maga sessions, my body is well-defined, muscular, and lean.

"Do you like what you see, Lucia?"

Her eyes immediately switch from fire to ice. I smirk. "You should close that mouth of yours before I think it's an open invitation to place something in it."

I allow her to snatch her hand from my grasp so I can strip. Unbuttoning my shirt, I eye-fuck her the entire time. She's probably wet right now.

"You're such an asshole, Fieri. I was staring because I wondered how a monster like you could have such a pretty shell to hide beneath. What unsuspecting youth's blood do you drink to pull it off?" She tilts her head to the side. "I mean, how old are you anyway, fifty?"

I laugh, but continue to undress. My wife is feisty. Her tone is full of vinegar, but her eyes still beg me to make her come. If shethinks her defiance will stop me from pulling my dick out, she's wrong. We are getting in this shower together so I can tend to her properly. She's had a rough twenty-four hours, and I haven't shown her anything but dominance and death. It is time to adjust her opinion of me, and it starts by bathing my fascinating new wife. Lucia needs to relax.

Stepping under the spray, I hold my hand out for her to join me. She crosses her arms over her chest and scoffs, but I stand erect and wait. She will come, and I won't force her. After a moment, I speak.

"Lucia. Join me. I know you must want a shower by this point."

After I wipe away the water running down my face, I catch her scowl. "I do want to get clean, but not with you. I'd rather shower alone."

“That’s too bad, la piccola ragazza. You haven't eaten in over a day, and you're already a little wobbly on your feet. I'm not trusting you in this shower alone. It will be my pleasure to bathe you and take care of that beautiful body of yours."

"I'm not a child." She tuts. "I can wash myself."

I step from under the spray, praying God grants me the patience he knows I've never had. I've never worked so hard for a person's obedience. At first, it was cute; now, I find it exasperating.

"Yes, Lucia, I know how old you are, even if you aren't familiar with my age." I'm thirty-seven. Thank you very much. "You can wash yourself, but why do that when I am here to do it for you? You've had a horrible time with me, and it's time for some pampering. Come, you've already married me, so you may as well enjoy the perks."

After a beat, she releases a heavy sigh and walks into the shower directly under the spray. I smile to myself over the minor victory.

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