Page 49 of His Nephew's Ex
My body gives itself over to him, clenching around him, muscles quivering like a convulsion as I scream his name into the polished wood of his massive desk. A moment later, he grips me even tighter, grunting his satisfaction as he shudders inside me, pulsing as he comes in slick heat.
We remain still for a few moments, just breathing, his weight heavy and welcome against my back. Then he steps away, and I feel suddenly cold, suddenly lost. I can hear the jingle of his belt as he pulls his pants back into place.
He hasn’t spoken a word, and a tiny fragment of that anger I felt earlier tries to rouse itself. Anger that he could be so casual about fucking me, anger that I wanted it so badly. Anger that a kiss, a look, a whisper from him can reduce me to this.
Then I feel his hands on me, first hitching my jeans and underwear up over my hips, then smoothing across the fabric covering my waist, thumbs rubbing the place that cradles our child.
“The wedding will be in two weeks,” he says quietly, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority.
“Two weeks?” I try to sit up, but his palm flat on my back keeps me trapped against his desk. “That’s not enough time—”
“It’s more than enough time.” His tone brooks no argument. “Father Respicio will perform the ceremony, and I’ve already started making arrangements.”
“You’ve already—” I struggle against his hold, but he’s immovable. “You can’t just plan my wedding without me!”
“I can, and I have.” His voice hardens, all business now despite our intimacy. “This isn’t negotiable,stellina. Our child needs legitimacy, and you need my name before you start showing.”
“Before I start showing?” The clinical way he discusses my pregnancy makes something cold settle in my stomach. “Like I’m some kind of scandal to be managed?”
“You’re a woman who’s carrying my heir.” He slides his hand up the plane of my spine to tangle in my hair. He tugs my head back, and the arch of my neck in this position feels dangerously vulnerable, like an animal exposing their softest parts for slaughter. “You’ll wear my ring and my name, andyou’ll serve our child better by staying protected and healthy here than working at Crimson until your ankles swell and your back aches.”
“Simeone—”
“Two weeks, Loriana.” His voice is final, absolute. “That’s how long you have to get used to the idea of being my wife.”
“And what if I do not want to?” My defiance is belied by the way I shiver under his touch.
His fingers tighten in my hair, and the subtle pain sends warmth pooling back between my legs despite the ruthless way he took me just moments ago. “I know you don’t want to threaten the life growing inside you. You’re too honorable for that.”
He leans closer, fingers still anchored in my hair as he presses a surprisingly tender kiss against my temple. “Don’t make me force your hand,stellina.”
I’m his now. Completely, irrevocably his.
The game is already over—I’m just deciding whether to tip my king with dignity or make him chase me around the board until checkmate.
16
Simeone
The crash reverberates through the house—crystal meeting reinforced glass in a symphony of destruction. Loriana’s voice follows, weaving profanity through languages like a spell. Through the grainy monitor, she’s all movement and rage, dark hair catching the light as she prowls the confines of our bedroom.
Beautiful. Magnificent. Completely mine.
And absolutely livid about the new reality I’ve constructed around her.
“Sir?” Tiziano’s voice crackles through the intercom, carefully neutral. “The new security protocols are fully operational.”
“Good.” I lean back in my leather chair, fascinated by the raw passion radiating from the woman on my screens. “How’s she adapting to the additional measures?”
“She’s... creative in her attempts to circumvent them.” There’s a dry note in his voice that suggests my girl has been keeping everyone on their toes. “This morning she tried to bribe the kitchen staff to smuggle her out in a laundry cart.”
Despite everything, I smile. Even trapped, she refuses to surrender. It’s one of the qualities that drew me to her—that unbreakable core of defiance that makes conquering her so intoxicating.
The vase explodes against the wall in a shower of crystal fragments, and I feel my cock harden watching her lose control. There’s something primitively satisfying about her violence, about knowing that underneath all that magnificent fury, she’s exactly where she belongs.
Under my complete control.
My phone buzzes with updates from the security team I’ve tripled since yesterday. Motion sensors in every room, cameras in every corner, guards at every possible exit. The estate has become a fortress designed around one simple principle: nothing gets in or out without my explicit permission.
