Page 46 of The Mafia's Bride
Some might see it as mean. Torturous, even. To keep a woman away from her family, her support system, and lock her away.
It’s a necessity. Sloane is a fire that wants to burn everyone until we’re all charred ashes and burnt flesh. She wants out of this marriage and will do anything to push her agenda to win.
If I give her an inch, she’ll be gone. I’m not losing her. I can’t, not when I need to know more about her, learn the Sloane under the mask she shows the world.
I’ve seen the sex vixen, I’ve seen the party-girl and the intelligent, logical woman. But I need to know all her parts and keep them. Forever.
Since I’ve reddened those beautiful ass cheeks, she’s beensequestered in my home, given her own bedroom. A guest room that’s doubled as a makeshift prison, she’s rarely left. She’s not confined, but there is a lock should I need to use it.
With Sloane, anything is possible.
I walk into her room, seeing it untouched. She has a few items in boxes by the door as if they’ve just been brought in. I know differently. Those items were delivered the day after our wedding, and she hasn’t bothered to unpack.
She doesn’t intend to stay.
That pounding energy from earlier thrashes inside my chest like a raging storm, the kind my wife spits whenever she’s mad. I want to break something, shackle her to the bed and make her understand she’s not going anywhere.
I’ve never been the possessive kind but God, Sloane has changed my world entirely. I’ll be damned if I let another person walk out on me again. Especially my wife. Especially the one person I want to keep close.
“What do you want?” She sneers, walking in from the attached bathroom.
I’ve seen Sloane dressed up for a night out, and radiant for our wedding. But this Sloane, with her messy red hair pulled into a bun, her thick curves hidden behind a pair of sweats and a white tee, is better than all the rest.
Seeing her normal, comfortable, shifts something in my heart. A feeling, a realization, a hard truth. She looks good like this, like she belongs in this space, in my home and therefore my heart.
It means I’m falling for my wife.
I’m knocked with the thought, a warmth igniting through my veins and suddenly, I’m lightheaded. I’ve never fallen for a woman before, never allowed one to get this close, to bury so far into my heart. Not until Sloane O’Brien.
“What, no kiss for your husband after a long day at work?” My throat is dry, but I focus on the woman in front of me.
She scoffs. “Get bent, Alessio.”
“You’ve got a smart mouth, little menace. Did anyone ever tell you that?” I tuck my hand into my pockets, grasping the ball there.
Her eyes narrow, cheeks flushing slightly at the bite in my tone. My little menace isn’t the sweet and innocent kind. She doesn’t want to be the good girl. She wants someone to treat her like a dirty slut and use her as they please while making her see stars.
Has anyone ever worshipped her the way she demands? Probably not.
Not with those hungry eyes. Even as she glares, crossing her arms over those full breasts, she acts as if she hates me. Maybe she does, a little bit, inside. Maybe she hates this situation, truly, being forced into an arrangement made on her behalf. But she can’t deny the attraction, the chemistry.
I can’t deny that I’m falling in love with her.
“I’ve been told my mouth is my best asset,” she quips, earning a chuckle.
I grip the ball, pulling it from my pants.
“They probably didn’t see your pretty pink pussy. But your mouth is in the top five of your best assets.”
I beckon her closer, curling my gloved fingers her way.
She stays rooted, too far away for me to grab her, eyes wary.
“Now, Sloane. Come here.”
She glares harder. “Pass. Last time you were near me, my ass was sore the next day.”
I take three large steps, crossing the room, crowding her flush to the bedroom wall. Her pulse jumps and I smile at her unease. “And you can’t tell me your cunt wasn’t fucking drenched. Did you play with yourself after I left you?” Her cheeks blaze but she doesn’t cower, like I knew she wouldn’t. “You did. You slipped your fingers inside, fantasizing it was me. Did the dreams do it justice?” My nose brushes hers and her breath hitches. “Probably not. You’re wet right now. You haven’t found release in days, poor girl.”
