Innocence (a Dark Mafia Romance)

by Stasia Black

  “We can do this the easy or the hard way. It’s up to you.” He kept stroking her leg. “Imagine what it would be like. To not fight. To not have to be strong. To let me keep you.” His voice deepened, relaxing, hypnotic. “I can keep you safe. No one will touch you.”

  She stirred a little at that. “No one but you.”

  “But you like it when I touch you. We’ve established that. What makes you think you wouldn’t like the rest of my rule over you?”

  A little sigh. Her body stretched before him, flushed and perfect, made by the gods to be claimed and plundered by him. She was open and compliant as he touched her, clay in his hands. Even though he’d hardened himself, he felt the strangest stirring.

  What if—? What if it could be like this? Days with her on his arm, by his side, and nights with her yielding to him?

  He wouldn’t just be the most powerful man in the world. He’d feel like it, too. Everything he’d built, everything he’d done, all the shit and grit and sin he’d waded through for years… what if it could all be for her? Innocence put on a pedestal and guarded like the precious thing she was. His wife, his trophy and reward.

  He just had to mold her…

  Slowly, he shifted and seated himself on the bed where she could still reach him, even with the chain. “Come lie over my lap.”

  She blinked at him, brow furrowed. Uncertainty warred with curiosity.

  “Now, angel,” he said, still gentle. “Or it’ll be worse for you.”

  She moved, crawling over the bed to him, and he hid a smile. He’d read the signs right. She wanted to fight, but her instincts told her to submit.

  He’d show her she wasn’t fighting him as much as herself.

  His cock hardened as she draped her lithe body over his legs. Later. He’d relieve himself later. Right now, he needed to focus on her.

  “What...what are you doing?” Her voice was small and uncertain.

  “I’m going to teach you a lesson,” he said in a soothing voice, rubbing her pert bottom. She shifted and he squeezed harder a silent order to be still. She obeyed right away, letting her light weight collapse on his hard thighs. His cock rose in his pants, brushing her belly. Every breath she took, he felt.

  Gods, this might kill him.

  He focused on massaging her ass and the backs of her thighs, working out knots. Preparing her for punishment.

  “That feels good,” she mumbled.

  “That’s right. Be a good girl and I’ll make you feel good. There’s no need to fight. You won’t win.”

  She gave a little huff, but kept still. He rubbed the place between her legs and she jerked, her shoulders tense.

  “Easy,” he soothed like she was a wild horse. “Let me make you feel good.”

  He felt the moment she decided to surrender as she finally relaxed into his touch. She’d pushed the boundaries as far as she could and now, tired of fighting, she could submit. He withdrew his fingers and she gave a gusty sigh.

  “I’m gonna spank you now,” he told her firmly, “and you’re going to take it. You know why you’re being punished?” he paused, but she remained silent. “You ran from me. You can’t do that, Cora. You’ll only end up hurt. I can’t protect you if you don’t obey.”

  “I’m never going to obey you.” A defiant whisper. The last of her resistance.

  “You will. I’ll teach you.” He squeezed her right cheek hard enough to press a white patch on her bottom, outlined in red. He smacked her left cheek lightly, enjoying the ripple through her firm flesh.

  His palm clapped down harder, one cheek and then the other. She wriggled and he gritted his teeth against the torment of stimulation to his leaking cock. He was in charge. He would not lose control and rut her like he wanted to, so badly. Not until she earned it.

  He weighted her legs down with one of his, holding her with a large hand in the small of her back. After a token struggle, she gave up, her body growing loose and languid, accepting of each swat on her bare ass.

  As far as spankings went, this was a light one, enough to sting but not enough to bruise. Marcus didn’t miss the hitch of her breath or the slight shift of her hips as he spanked close to her pussy. He used his leg to split her thighs apart, and saw with satisfaction that her folds were glistening.

  “You’re doing so well,” he purred. “Submitting. Taking your punishment. Such a good girl.”

  She didn’t answer, but he didn’t need her to. The slick serum leaking between her legs, dampening his slacks told him how she really felt. But hadn’t he known all along? There was an undercurrent to the undeniable attraction they had for each other. He dominated and she obeyed. They’d cleaved together in the easy dance, her yielding power, him taking it, since the first moment they’d met.

  If she wasn’t the enemy, Marcus would say she was his missing half. Only she could make him whole.

  But she was the enemy, and he knew better than to succumb to her charms. He’d mold her and master her until she knew her place—at his feet—and his inexorable rule over her. The small voice that told him it would be better if she freely came to him to submit… He shook his head against the thought. That was weakness and had no place in his reasoning.

  Cora whimpered and he palmed her right ass cheek. Her pale skin was flushed, warm to the touch. He’d spanked her with increasing intensity and she’d accepted it.

  Part one of the punishment was over. Time for part two.

  His hand slipped between her legs, finding the slick furrows on either side of her clit and stroking. She writhed and he weighted her down, his fingers never pausing in their rhythm.

  “Stop fighting,” he said. “Just enjoy it.”

  “I shouldn’t…” Her words were slurred like she was drunk. Drunk on endorphins. Drunk on him.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  An endless pause before she answered in a clearer voice, “No.”

  Marcus allowed himself a satisfied smirk.

  He eased his grip on her, giving her freedom to wriggle away if she wanted. She stayed still and he rewarded her, strumming her like an instrument, her gasps and moans a music of his making. He played her to perfection until she stiffened and gasped and came, soaking his hand and his crisp white shirt cuffs.

  “Good,” he praised her. “So very good.”

  But he wasn’t done. Once wasn’t nearly enough to get his point across. And he couldn’t keep his hands off her flesh even if it was.

  He rubbed her pink bottom and shifted his leg off hers. She didn’t move though, and didn’t protest when he spanked her again, round after round interspersed with rubbing her needy flesh until she came and came and came.

  The third time she forgot herself and moaned loudly and wildly as her orgasm hit, which only drove Marcus to demand more of her. By the fifth, she was exhausted and mewling her release but it was all the sweeter, watching her sweat-dampened face, all confusion and fight faded to sweet, sweet surrender.

  Her legs splayed open freely and she pressed her bottom against his hand even when he wasn’t pleasuring her. In this moment she was his and his completely. And he’d never felt more like a king.

  It wasn’t until after, when he stood over her limp and sated body, that he realized his mistake. That every gasp and inadvertent squeeze of her cunt on his fingers was a link in a chain, locking him to her as securely as he’d tied her to his bed.

  He waited a long time, watching her sleep, too hard to think straight, too tangled up in her to leave.

  Thirteen

  Cora jerked out of her dream. A nightmare. She’d stood at her wedding, said her vows, and then Marcus turned into a monster and carried her off. She’d screamed and reached out to the wedding guests for help but Armand and all the rest only sipped their drinks and laughed.

  She squeezed her eyes shut again and rolled to her side. Something tugged her ankle with a clink. The chain.

  It wasn’t a dream.

  The wedding. The wedding night when he’d filmed the whole thi
ng and been so cruel… But then he’d changed again. He was so tender after she’d broken the statue. Then the… punishment.

  It had been humiliating to be taken over his knee like that, but she told herself she was allowing it because she needed to get underneath his defenses. Trying to make a run for it again had been just as stupid and useless as the first time.

  She just needed to outsmart him. To play by his rules for a little while. Give him what he wanted and gain his trust. Already he’d made her leash longer. He couldn’t keep her here locked up forever.

  He wanted her as a trophy and what fun was a trophy if you couldn’t show it off in public? If she played his games, maybe he’d give her more and more leeway, and then she could make her escape once she had a real shot at it.

  The problem was, once his ‘punishment’ had started…

  Her eyes all but rolled back in her head as she remembered. At first it was just a confusing mix of pain and pleasure while he spanked her.

  But then…it went somewhere else entirely. She didn’t even know how to explain it. It was like she’d floated off the ground while still being in her own body. Like a timeout from real life where she didn’t have to worry about anything except sensation. And pleasure, oh gods, the pleasure. She hadn’t even known it was possible to come that many times.

  She gave over her body to him, leaping off a cliff and knowing, just absolutely knowing that he would catch her.

  What the hell was that about?

  Her cheeks heated and her stomach went liquid at the memories. Every time he touched her, she melted.

  She scrubbed her hands down her face and looked out the window. She didn’t know how long she’d napped. It looked like it might be nearing sunset.

  She slipped off the bed, testing her new, longer leash. The chain let her go to the bathroom, if she sat with her foot outstretched. How generous.

  The shackle around her ankle didn’t have a lock to pick, as far as she could tell. Same with the collar.

  You won’t act like a wife, fine. You’re still my property.

  She clenched her teeth, shaking off memories of the confusing pleasure. Fuck that. Just because he could play her body like a violin didn’t change anything.

  “Yeah, I said ‘fuck,’” she said, looking around the room. “Get used to it.” Her mother taught her good girls didn’t swear, but where had being good gotten her?

  Tied to her bed on her wedding night.

  She spent long minutes testing the strength of the chain and the bedpost securing it before giving up.

  She glared up again at the camera in the corner, red light still blinking at her. “I’m hungry,” she announced. She was only a little bit hungry after the filling breakfast earlier, but she had the feeling it was a request Marcus wouldn’t ignore. He seemed to have a thing about taking care of her physical needs. She’d bet that in a minute, Marcus would enter and tell her whatever humiliating task she had to perform for food. And she’d do it.

  Submit. Survive. Escape.

  “Any day now,” she muttered, flopping back on the bed. She was still naked. Her new husband seemed to like her like this. Helpless. Naked. Chained. The sick fuck.

  She ran her hands over her arms and then her chest. She’d gotten through her first day of marriage. What would tonight bring?

  More of the same, no doubt. He would come for her and she would bend, bow and scrape. She couldn’t help it. Something in her responded to him. He held all the cards, but she’d do anything to stay in the game. So yes, she’d bend. But she wouldn’t break. She’d remain her own no matter what he did.

  No matter how many times he called her, “Mine.”

  Long minutes passed and he didn’t come. Was it because he knew she was trying to exert some small control over the situation? She crossed her arms over her chest but she couldn’t help her thoughts from straying where they always did. His body strong and beautiful as a god’s, powerful, all consuming. Thinking about it, her breath came faster and her nipples pebbled.

  How could she resist his power over her?

  Stroking her right arm absently, her wrist brushed her nipple. Heat shot from the tight bud to her awakened core. Whenever Marcus walked into a room, her body came alive.

  Maybe she could... No, she shouldn’t…

  But what if she did?

  She bit her lip. And then, easing back, she opened her legs. The first graze of her fingers was like the coming of spring, warmth breathing over the land. The heat unfurled and bloomed with a thousand petals bursting open. She’d never dared touch herself before. Her body was a secret garden and only one man held the key.

  Fuck that. Her finger dipped into her wet channel, spreading silky slick over her inner folds.

  Why had she waited so long to do this? This wasn’t shameful or indecent. It felt—

  “Oh gods,” she groaned, her legs tightening, her eyelids fluttering closed. The pad of her finger found a spot that sent electric sparks through her.

  Forget Marcus, she could please herself.

  On second thought, Marcus… His hard face filled her vision, silver eyes flashing, the points of his cheeks tinged red with anger and arousal. Mmmm, yes, right there.

  Her back arched as her finger circled her clit. So good.

  She blinked languorously—

  “Marcus!” she yelped and scooted back, giving herself room to sit up.

  Her husband loomed over her.

  “Enjoying yourself, wife?” There was a world of tension in the word ‘wife.’

  “Actually, I am.” Her voice came out an airy squeak, with nothing of the defiance she intended.

  He followed her, a storm cloud dark with barely controlled violence. He gripped her wrist, brought it to his lips. He held her gaze as he sucked her fingers into his mouth.

  She whimpered, pressing her thighs together. Who was she kidding? The pleasure brewing between her legs was a volcano now compared to the flickering flame of her earlier arousal. Marcus cleaned her essence off her fingers, tongue curling around each delicate digit until she closed her eyes, dizzy with pleasure.

  His left hand cupped the place between her legs. “This belongs to me. You feel pain and pleasure only at my command.” For a beautiful moment, the heel of his hand grazed her clitoris. A shockwave rolled through her.

  He released her and it was gone. Cora bit back a moan. Her body throbbed, mourning the loss.

  “Well, excuse me, lord and master.” There was her defiance. Apparently losing out on an orgasm made her cranky and unhinged her brain from all survival instinct, because she kept snarking. “I didn’t realize you were going to take over all my body functions.”

  “Everything, Cora. All of you belongs to me.”

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Well in that case, your stomach is hungry. Feed me.”

  He moved to the bedpost and crouched next to the chain. His body blocked her view, so she didn’t see how the mechanism worked.

  Next time. He had to slip up at some point.

  He returned with the chain in hand and gave it a thoughtful tug. “I’ll feed you. But you’ll still be punished for touching what belongs to me.”

  “How are you going to punish me this time? Tie me up? Humiliate me? Spank me? Oh wait, you’ve already done all that.”

  “You think this is the worst that could happen?” he wound the chain around his wrist, tugging her upwards.

  She came to her feet, quivering at his closeness. She wanted to rage at him, to beat his chest and scream and rip out his heart like he’d ripped out hers. The rest of her wanted him to touch her, strong and sure and gentle, satisfying the hunger that beat inside her.

  He drew her up on tiptoes. She gave him her best glare, but she was caught and at his mercy, a fish on a line.

  He opened his mouth to say something and her stomach growled loud enough to echo through the room.

  Marcus closed his mouth, amusement glimmering in his silver eyes. “Hungry?”

  �
��Already told you I was.” She could fight him better with a full belly.

  Dinner was much the same as breakfast. Her on the cushion at his feet. Him feeding her filet mignon bite by delicious bite. Sometimes he didn’t use the fork. He made her suck the juices off his fingers.

  And she did it, becoming wetter and wetter each time, especially when his thumb lingered in her mouth, caressing her bottom lip and dragging down her throat to her chest where he plucked at her nipples.

  She moaned helplessly, so riled up she was sure that he could make her come with only a few swipes of his fingers. Or better yet, his tongue.

  When dinner was finished, he didn’t lift her up on the table like before. And when he took her back to the room, he merely reattached her chain to the bed.

  And then.

  He.

  Left.

  “Wait,” Cora said, “where you going?

  He turned at the threshold and looked back at her. “Miss me already? Do you want me to stay?” There was a hungry wolf in his eyes as he asked it.

  “No,” Cora said automatically. “I hate you.”

  “Well, your wish is my command,” he said, completely solicitous. The next second, though, the wolf was back, all predator. “But if I so much as see your hand brush that pussy that belongs to me without my say-so, believe me, you will not like the consequences. You’ll wish for the days when you were merely tied to the bed.” The ice in his voice sent a shiver down Cora’s spine.

  She lifted her chin and glared at him. “Get out if you’re going to go. I can’t stand to look at you another second.”

  His mouth lifted in a half smile. “Beware what you wish for, little girl.”

  And then he was gone.

  Fourteen

  Cora rested on the heavy cushion, leaning against her husband’s leg. Above her head, on the desk, the keyboard crackled as Marcus typed.

  This wasn’t what she thought her honeymoon would be.

  Walking around naked, posing for her husband, letting him lead her with a collar and chain like a pet? Curling up on a cushion at his feet and dozing the day away. At night she slept with a chain leashing her to the bed. She didn’t dare complain in case he decided to tie her up completely again.