by Lee Savino
“Bedroom,” he ordered.
Her lips tightened but she marched to the bedroom. Good girl. If she’d protested, he’d have turned her over his knee right in the foyer, then made her crawl.
As soon as she stepped into the bedroom, his hands were on her. He stripped her quickly, his cock pressing against his pants as her slender form was revealed. He stepped away to gain some control.
Control. Right. That’s what this was about.
He crooked his finger and pointed to the floor. She stepped out of the dress, naked but for her heels and diamonds, but didn’t obey any further.
“Knees. Now.” It wasn’t a request.
Cora tested him for another long moment. But then finally, lips pursed, she sank to her knees in front of him.
The furious rushing noise in his ears quieted, replaced by a different sort of adrenaline. Yes. Hell yes. He’d needed this very badly and he hadn’t even realized it.
He regularly claimed his wife’s body in the middle of the night. At first he’d tried to stay away and deny his need for her. He couldn’t afford any weaknesses and she made him weak. She made him soft when he had to be more ruthless than ever now.
The Titans had pulled back from an all-out street war but now Demi was trying to undercut him with all of his suppliers, willing to take massive losses if it meant driving him out of business. Some were loyal but others, especially foreign players, were loyal only to the dollar.
And the customer didn’t care. Why buy product in New Olympus if they could make the hour and a half drive to Metropolis and get it for half the price?
Some even brought it back and tried to resell it in his streets. Ruthless enforcement only went so far when suddenly everyone thought they could make a buck and undercut Marcus’s outfit completely. And just like happened every time, when rogue elements tried to step up and seize power, violence ensued.
The Titans didn’t have to step one foot in the city and they’d already created chaos.
Controlling supply was the only answer, plus showing people the consequences of fucking with Marcus Ubeli. He’d bring peace and stability back to his city and stomp the Titans out for good this time. But at the moment, he was barely holding his city together.
Which meant he couldn’t afford any distractions.
And Cora? He’d never known a greater distraction in his life.
If he could just get control of her, though, and himself too, then maybe everything else would fall into place. Maybe he’d had it all backwards. Maybe true control started at home and worked its way outward, like the concentric circles from a stone tossed in a pond.
Yes, if he could only master control here…
He put his hand on Cora’s head, her hair silk soft underneath his fingers.
“You know what to do,” he told her. He could and would order her, but this first act would prove her compliance.
Biting her lip, she opened his pants and took him out. Her breath quickened imperceptibly, but he noticed, as he noticed everything about her. He noticed her nipples hardening in her dress. The dreamy cast to her gaze. How she raised her chin, bringing her face alongside his cock, and how she took a deep breath. She swayed a little on her knees as if the scent of him intoxicated her.
His cock throbbed just watching her and she hadn’t even touched him yet.
“Kiss it, angel. Show me how much you love this.”
A tremor went through her at the word “love” and he hid a smile even knowing it made him a bastard.
She loved him, he knew it. He also knew she wished she didn’t. Her love satisfied him in a deep place, even though he didn’t love her back. He couldn’t. Not if he was going to be the King of the Underworld, the Scourge of the City. They had many names for him. But if there was the one thing the Lord of Night could not afford, it was love.
It was unfair to his sweet Cora. It always had been. If he loved her, he would let her go and tell her to run as far away from him as she could get. Alas, it was just another proof of his black heart.
He would never let her go.
She was his. Something he would prove again to both of them tonight.
He needed to break apart his lover and remake her into a new creation, a creature born of savage lovemaking, a creature belonging only to him.
Her lips brushed the dark head of his cock, her eyes closed like she was in prayer.
Fitting, because here he was her god.
His hand left her head and cupped her soft cheek. “That’s it. That’s right. Good girl.”
Cora shivered again and put her mouth on him, running her tongue over his turgid length. Slowly savoring.
Her hand came up to stroke his balls. His groin tightened at the sight of her delicate, perfectly manicured fingernails lightly scratching his scrotum.
Her lips worked over him just as he liked it, popping his head into her mouth and tonguing and sucking the most sensitive spots.
He let her worship, stroking her head and whispering “good girl” over and over. This was a perfect moment, meant to wash the fear and anger of the night away. And it worked. He could rule the world as long as he owned this beautiful woman.
As long as he could have her like this, on her knees.
Looking down at her innocent face taking his cock almost brought him to his. He gathered the hair at the base of her neck and used it like a leash to turn her head this way and that.
He tugged her off his cock and then dragged her up one side of his length and down the other. She nibbled on the head when she came back to it and he pushed her lower so she’d suck on his balls. And suck she did, rolling them one by one in her mouth.
A curse escaped him and Cora’s eyes, blue as a summer sky, opened lazily. She gave him a small smile that made his heart soar.
“Suck me,” he told her gruffly to hide his reaction. He tugged her hair and she obeyed, letting him slide deep in her mouth, stretching her lips and hitting the back of her throat. Was there any better feeling?
Only one, he decided. The feeling of her cumming around his cock. He might allow that tonight, after he dominated her. After he reminded her of her place.
His hips surged and she gasped around him. He drew out, letting her cough and sputter. Her eyes watered.
“Too much?”
With a little shake of her head, she pushed back onto his cock, determined and straining to take him deeper. Fuck, that’s it. Her mascara streamed in rivulets with her tears and it was fucking beautiful. Innocence sullied, but only for him.
She kept swallowing him down until her nose nearly pressed to the base of his cock. Her tongue fluttered underneath and he lost control.
“Cora,” he moaned. Folding, he grabbed her head and kept her there as he sent his cum shooting down her throat and into her belly. He released her as quickly as he could, but she remained on her knees, chest heaving as she sucked in air.
She’d submitted to him fully and pleased him beyond measure. Then why did it feel like she was the one in control?
In a rare moment of weakness, he murmured, “Sei bellissima. Sono pazzo di te.” You’re so beautiful. I’m crazy for you. Her brow wrinkled but he didn’t translate. It was bad enough that he’d whispered it aloud in the first place.
Mustering himself, he straightened. With his handkerchief, he gently wiped the mascara stains from her face. “You did well tonight. I never should’ve left you alone.”
She blinked as if shocked by the admission that was close to an apology. “It’s fine. I survived.”
“You’ll never be alone like that again.” He’d have Sharo stick to her side if he couldn’t escort her personally.
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I do. You’re my responsibility. My most treasured possession.”
She closed her eyes at that, an expression crossing her face. Not hurt or anger, but longing. Cora might fight, might protest, but deep down she understood his possessiveness. She craved it, even. She was his perfect mate. And s
he’d been in danger tonight. True danger.
He brushed his fingers over her face. “Were you afraid?”
“A little.”
“My business won’t touch you.” Sudden memories of Chiara gripped him. Finding her body bloodied and broken. No. He would never let that happen to Cora. He gripped her chin. “It will never touch you.”
“Marcus.” She looked up at him, lips shiny, gaze soft and submissive. “You touch me.”
He bent, lifted her to the bed, and lay her down. She spread out before him, a sacrifice on an altar.
The diamonds glittered at her ears and wrists and the hollow of her throat. He touched the right earring, enjoying her needy shudder as he fingered her earlobe. The bright jewels winked at him as she moved. She couldn’t wear his chains out in public, but she could wear these. She was his and everyone would know it.
“Yes, I touch you. I’m the only one who can. The only one who ever will.” He bent over her, rough hands grasping and claiming. He wished he could touch every inch of her at once, hold her in the palm of his hand.
As his fingers penetrated her, he sucked on the tender juncture between her neck and shoulder. Her hands slid up his shoulders and into his hair until he caught her wrists and pinned her.
She quivered under him, eyes wide and pupils blown. He transferred her wrists to one hand and held them above her head. His right hand splayed between her breasts.
“All of this. All of you belongs to me.” He needed to know she understood, and that she understood it deep in her bones.
She gave a slight nod. He rewarded her with two fingers in her pussy, working deep, brushing against the sensitive spot inside her until her hips rose off the bed. Her chest flushed as he watched her orgasm bloom in her. Her eyes went wide, almost shocked, as it peaked, going on and on as he crooked his fingers inside her and tugged. Her feet dug into the bed and her whole body went taut as aftershocks rolled through her.
When it was done, she sagged to the bed. He removed his fingers and thrust them into her mouth. Her mouth softened, accepting him even though he wasn’t gentle. Her tongue curled around his wet fingers, licking and lapping, tasting herself.
His cock curled up to the sky, his own orgasm threatening to boil out of him. He’d already cum once and hard, but his cock had forgotten. It throbbed as if her very presence could set him off.
He pulled his fingers out of her mouth.
She was submissive to him. Only to him. And he would keep her safe.
He crawled onto the bed and rose up over her, cock in hand. “Touch your breasts,” he ordered. “Cup them. Show them to me.”
Cora’s slender fingers did as he commanded and he stroked himself faster.
“Your nipples. Pinch them. Harder,” he demanded.
She was already rolling her nipples, ripe berries between her fingertips, obeying him like she read his mind. Like they were one—
His climax blasted through him, sending semen spurting over her naked flesh. Growling in pleasure, he marked her with his seed. Without being ordered, Cora stroked her stomach, rubbing the silky essence into her flawless skin. Accepting him.
Her hair spread around her head like a halo. Her body shimmered, pale and beautiful in the low light.
“Angel,” he breathed.
It seemed only natural to kneel down at the end of the bed, slide his hands under her shapely thighs to draw her close, and dip his head to her sex to drink of her essence.
After she came once or twice or fifteen times, he rose again and finally fucked her. He fucked her like he owned her because tonight he’d proven again that he did, both to her and to himself.
And he knew that her writhing cries would nourish him through the night and into tomorrow, when he would don his suit like armor and go forth to do battle in the boardroom, in the clubs and street corners he owned—shoring up defenses and strengthening borders until the constant attack from the Titans broke against the unseen walls like a tide.
Tonight though, there was only Cora, the daughter of his enemies, now his in every way.
“Tu mi appartieni. Per sempre.” You belong to me. Forever.
She sighed as he spoke into her skin. She didn’t understand the words of the incantation but the spell still wound around her body nonetheless, binding her to him.
He couldn’t tie her to the bed forever, but he could tie her to him with pleasure. With dresses and diamonds, and nights drenched with passion. He couldn’t tell her he loved her, but he could keep her safe, locked in a high tower, and give her his body without reserve.
It would be enough. It had to be.
Five
Two days after the concert, Cora sat sipping designer bottled water in a robe and watched people backstage at the fashion show. Marcus’s friend Armand had just come out with a new line of resort wear, and Cora had been roped into modeling it.
Hair and makeup done, she sat backstage bored out of her mind and half listened to the models’ gossip.
“I met the Orphan last night,” one of the women was smiling smugly into the mirror. Stunningly beautiful with sky high cheekbones and pouty lips, she was playing with her blonde hair. Her friend, an equally lovely brunette with wide eyes, leaned closer.
“What? Where?”
“At an after party, duh. He was luscious.”
“So did you talk to him? What did he say?”
Cora leaned forward too, curious.
“Well, he didn’t say much. You know he’s refusing to play the rest of his nights? He said he thought it was too dangerous.” The model shook her head at the mirror. “I told him he was being silly, and that his art needed to be shared. I think I inspired him.”
Cora swigged her water bottle and wondered if she should comment.
“We had a more private conversation after that.” Model number one smirked.
“Oh, my, gods,” the brunette squealed. Cora rolled her eyes.
“I definitely gave him a few more reasons to stay and fulfill his contract.”
Cora decided she’d had enough. “What about his fiancée?” she broke in. Chris would have proposed by now and she knew Iris would say yes. The way those two had looked at each other…
The two models stared at Cora like she was speaking Greek. “You know, the one he writes all the songs to,” Cora persisted. “Did he mention her at all?”
“Sweetie, most men don’t mention their significant others around me. I guess, around me, they’re less significant.” The beauty flipped her hair over her shoulder and her eyes went back to the mirror, preening.
Cora wanted to bitch slap the model until the woman made proper eye contact during a conversation. Instead, she jumped up. “I need more water. Do you want anything?” Without waiting for a response, she strode off toward craft services.
She heard the women gossiping about her as she left. They didn’t bother to lower their voices.
“I don’t know how she got this job at all. I mean, she’s fat.”
“Her husband landed it for her. He’s a crime boss and probably killed someone to get her in.”
“Probably.”
Cora walked with head held high, her posture perfect, focused straight ahead. She had to stop to let three young fashionistas rush by with a rack of clothes. Another young hair stylist, his hair in a mohawk, caught her eye from his place behind a model’s chair. He smiled sympathetically and she grinned back. She recognized him from Armand’s spa, Metamorphoses, where she was a regular.
The spread of food at craft services mocked her queasy stomach. She grabbed a bottle of coconut water instead and found a place to sit near the sound system on the outskirts of the activity.
Try as she might, Cora couldn’t keep the model’s words from bothering her. She didn’t care what people called her; it was Marcus she was worried about.
He hadn’t come home last night. Since the Orphan debacle at the club several days ago, Cora hadn’t seen her husband. She was used to his long business hours. Marcus often went for a
late-night swim in the penthouse pool, but at least he’d come home and lie down for a few hours before donning his suit again at dawn.
This morning she woke up beside his untouched pillow. And the papers reported the rumor that The Orphan’s concerts would be canceled. Thane officially denied the report but she knew it wasn’t making Marcus’s job easier.
The night after the concert had been… Cora lifted a hand to her neck just at the memory of it. They hadn’t done anything like that for a long time and then two sessions in one night… She felt her face flush.
Out of the corner of her eye, Cora noticed she wasn’t sitting alone on the outskirts anymore. A woman all in black had strutted over and slouched against the wall nearby. Her black hair fell around her face in a short, blunt cut. With her faded jeans and her scuffed boots, she looked like a photographer, except she didn’t have a camera. Cora wondered for a second whether she was a model; she was pretty enough, though she didn’t look happy about it.
Arms crossed and wearing a frown, she surveyed the scene with Cora and moved close enough to comment, “I’m so over these bitches. Cat walk, more like catty-walk.”
“Are you a model?” Cora asked politely.
“Please,” the woman huffed. “I’m not one of those brainless bimbos. Like I’d be seen trotting my bare ass down a runway. Do I look like an idiot?”
Cora’s lips quirked into a smile and then flattened out as she waited for the woman to notice who she was talking to.
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry.” The woman realized Cora’s catwalk-ready hair and makeup. “Blast, I’m always putting my foot in my mouth.” She turned and stuck out her hand. “I’m Olivia.”
“Cora.” Cora shook Olivia’s hand. “Pleased to meet you. So, if you’re not modeling, what are you doing here?”
“Favor to Armand. The pretty, bronzed dick head. I did his whole web platform and he wanted me here to make sure I got the vibe right.” Olivia went off cursing, calling Armand several more colorful terms while Cora sat silent in shock.
