by Sam Mariano
What an awful fucking night.
I know I made it awful, but still.
It gets a little worse, just a little worse, because Mia, my pure as the driven snow Mia, unburdened by vengeance, asks Adrian loudly enough for me to hear, “How is Vince doing?”
My spine stiffens. My own hands clench with rage. I look back at her over my shoulder, but she’s looking at Adrian, not me.
Rage moves through me and I slam the bathroom door shut. I shouldn’t do that. That’s why she did it. She can’t revenge fuck someone else, but she can ask Adrian about Vince so I have to hear it.
Little fucking bastard.
I don’t know what I’m going to do with him. Once this weekend passes and I declaw my kitten again, I don’t know where we go from there. She won’t go down to dinner because she doesn’t want to see him. I’ve been dealing with it, but once she’s officially mine, I want her beside me at dinner every night. She won’t be comfortable if he’s there. I would let him move out, but I also need to be able to keep an eye on him to make sure no plans for vengeance spring up. I could move him into one of my properties and just install cameras to keep an eye on him, but once I have Mia waiting for me in bed at the end of every day, I’m not going to be willing to waste time watching him.
I feel better after the shower. My head is clearer, less fucked up. Emotions always fuck people up. I’m lucky in that I don’t have a surplus of the damned things, but Mia tapped right into them tonight. I got caught up in her feelings. Logically, I know that despite catching everything on fire tonight, I can smother the flames and rebuild a couple days from now. Everything will be fine.
I return to the bedroom and Adrian leaves without a word. Mia hasn’t moved. I crawl into bed behind her and wrap my arms around her waist.
“Don’t touch me.” Her tone is wooden, completely devoid of any feeling, but that’s more alarming than anger.
I consider ignoring her request, tugging her body against mine and forcing her to cuddle with me anyway. As hard as I’ve been on her tonight, maybe she needs a break, though. I also want to see if she ends up in my arms, despite legitimately hating me right now.
So, loathe as I am to go to sleep without touching her, I let go of her and roll back into my spot, keeping my hands to myself.
One more day.
---
“Well, you can trust me… I’m not powerful or connected and I couldn’t protect you from a bullet or a throwing star, but if you ever feel lonely, you can count on me…”
I can’t sleep.
The rain pounds against my bedroom window, thunder rolling in the distance. I wonder if Mia likes thunderstorms. She’s lying right here beside me, but I can’t ask her. Thankfully she’s asleep. She kept her back to me most of the night so I couldn’t tell if she was awake or not.
Then, as she has done each night that she wasn’t already there voluntarily, she rolled over and snuggled up against me. Maybe she hates me tonight, but whatever draws her to me hasn’t completely disintegrated.
At least in her sleep, she’s at peace. I robbed her of that earlier tonight, but at least I haven’t bled into her dreams.
I trail a finger lightly along Mia’s arm, her words washing over me. It wasn’t long ago she spoke those words. I understand they don’t hold now that I’ve done this, but I knew she meant them when she said them. It was a naïve promise, offered on a whim—I know that, so I don’t know why the words got stuck in my head. Mia convinced herself I was in some kind of tragic, lonely pain and she wanted to ease it.
Adrian’s probably right. This may be one of the more fucked up things I’ve done in my time, and that’s saying something. I took an innocent, loving person who offered acceptance to a man whose gun once rested against her forehead because she thought she sensed his pain, and I did this to her. She offered kindness and I countered with destruction.
I am an asshole.
But that’s how it goes. Someone would’ve taught her someday. Probably a series of someones, slowly chipping away at that loving shell of hers, gradually eroding her sweetness. At least I did it in grand fashion. At least I took her down in one fell swoop.
Killing a part of someone with one bold strike is kinder than dragging their heart across sand paper over time until there’s nothing left. Though, if I’m being honest with myself, I’ll probably do that to her, too.
As if she can hear my thoughts, Mia shifts in her sleep, making a cute little disgruntled noise as she settles her arm around my waist and nuzzles her face into my chest. My cock stirs, but I ignore it. I’m definitely not going to wake her up now. She does this every night, but when she wakes up, the snuggling will obviously stop. I don’t know why her sleeping self hasn’t received the memo tonight, but I’m glad. She only has to go to bed angry at me one more night, then it will be Monday.
[Sunday]
Mia is not happy when she wakes up in my arms.
She looks up at me resentfully, like I dragged her over there myself, but she doesn’t say anything as she rolls over and turns her back to me.
“Now, now,” I murmur, snaking an arm around her waist and moving up behind her. “I know you didn’t forget out morning routine.”
“I hope your dick falls off,” she mutters, not moving. “I hope your stupid little whorebag was infested with diseases and you fucked her without a condom.”
I bite back a smile at her wrath toward my fictional mistress. “That’s not a very wise wish. I fucked you right after.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. I don’t even care. It’s worth it. If your dick shrivels up and falls off, I’ll accept whatever disease you passed to me with a smile.”
“Wow. This really is the way to tap into your anger, huh?”
“You figured that out before you did it. You don’t get to pretend to be surprised now.”
I’m sorely tempted to mend the relationship between Mia and my dick right now, but I can’t do that. Tomorrow I will, as soon as she gets home from school. Today I need to spend as little time with her as possible so I’m not tempted to start undoing all this work all over again.
I almost leave her alone this morning. I don’t want to hurt her again, but fucking Mia is as much a part of my morning routine as going to the gym now.
I’ll buy her something pretty later; right now I’m going to fuck her.
Instead of giving her a chance to object—or physically wound me again—I straddle her ass and place a hand on her back, pressing her down into the bed. She reaches back to claw at me again.
“Get off me. What part of ‘I hope your dick falls off’ made you think I—”
I catch her by the throat, my fingers tightening and cutting off her objection. Leaning down in her ear, I murmur, “I think you might be forgetting who the fuck I am, Mia. I don’t require your permission.”
I feel her swallow convulsively.
“This can go one of two ways,” I tell her, pausing to nip at her earlobe. “You can keep your pretty ass quiet and let me fuck this beautiful body, or you can fight and claw at me. I’m still going to fuck you, and then when I’m done, you can use that sweet tongue of yours, the one that so lovingly caresses my dick when you take me deep in your throat, and you can lick every fucking wound, real or imagined. And I’ll warn you right now, my cock is feeling pretty wounded.”
She swallows again, but despite her arms being free, she doesn’t try to fight me.
“Don’t forget, sweetheart, your life is in my hands. You only get to live if you keep me entertained. And right now? Right now, I’m not feeling very fucking jovial.”
I release her throat and let her drop her head to the pillow. Her tone is low and resentful as she tells me, “You don’t play fair.”
“That’s right,” I tell her. “I don’t play fair; I play to win.”
Mia hugs her pillow, refusing to take part, but she doesn’t fight me. She lets me spread her legs, pull her ass up off the bed, and plow into her. She’s silent, though. I may as well be fuck
ing a corpse for how responsive she is. Mia’s right about that part. I didn’t realize it until I got a few sneak peeks at what it must be like to fuck her when she wants you to (and she can admit she wants you to), but boy, am I looking forward to that. It was like a drug injected straight into my veins, the noises she made, the need she oozed. It’s intoxicating to be wanted that much, to have someone need your touch so desperately. It’s intoxicating with her because it’s real. It’s authentic. Many women can feign that kind of enthusiasm, but Mia actually opens herself up, exposes all her vulnerabilities to you and invites you to bathe in her light.
To someone who’s lived his whole life in the dark, that’s pretty fucking tempting.
I get no peek of light right now. Mia lets me use her body because I told her she had to, but not in the sexy way. She doesn’t want to give me pleasure and I’m taking it anyway. I want to experience the full version of the snippets I’ve seen. I’ve seen her on her knees, looking up at me like she wants to please me. I’ve felt her arching closer to my touch, eyes closed in ecstasy over my hand touching her breast. I know that if her heart is on board, she’ll let me do whatever I want to her body.
Her heart has to be on board, though.
She has to want it in order for me to get any of that.
I can’t take it. I can fuck her, but I can’t get that unless she gives it.
You know what I can do, though? I can take something else.
My hips stop and I pull her ass up. I fist a hand in her hair, but instead of pulling her back, I push her head down into the pillow. She gasps with surprise, as I slide my cock inside her at a new angle, then gives a more scandalized gasp when I bring my free hand around the front of her body and push it inside her pussy.
“Oh,” she says, on yet another gasp, as I begin playing with her clit. “Please stop touching me. If you want to… then do it, but please stop touching me. I don’t want you to.”
“Remember when I told you that you would no longer have a say?” I ask her, rubbing my finger just inside her cunt as I push my cock inside her again. “That your pleasure was my domain and you were going to come when I said so?”
Her breath hitches a little. I sense a little fear and her voice wavers slightly as she says, “That was before. We aren’t playing that game anymore.”
“I say when the game ends, Mia. Not you.”
“Please. Please don’t… not after last night. Please.”
“Keep begging,” I tell her, releasing her hair so I can reach around and play with one of her nipples.
“Please,” she whispers.
“You don’t mean that, do you, sweetheart? You want me to touch you. You want my filthy hands all over your body. That cock you claim to hate so much?” I pull back and thrust forward with enough force to move her. “You want it bad.” She groans, clutching the pillow. I smile and do it again. Again and again, harder each time. Each time she groans, craving my brutality.
Another tormented “please” escapes her, but this time I can’t tell if she’s begging for me, or begging me to stop and preserve her emotional stability. It doesn’t matter which it is. She’s going to come for me, whether she wants to or not. I know what she likes. I know how to give her what she needs, even if she begs me not to.
I squeeze her nipple between my fingers as I toy with her clit and she arches helplessly, pushing back into my thrust. Her hands dig into the bedding and her ass bounces as I fuck her harder and harder and harder. I fuck her like I’m trying to bury her ass, and she holds onto the bedclothes like they’ll keep her grounded.
“Please, please, please,” she murmurs, that beautiful ass bouncing as she grinds back against my cock. She’s breathing heavy now, desperate gulps. I’m edging her closer and closer to a climax with my fingers, and assaulting the fuck out of her G-spot with my cock. When I feel like driving her crazy, I abuse her nipples until she’s whining, whimpering, and begging. She’s too close to turn back now, but she doesn’t want it. She begs me more, but even she doesn’t know what she’s begging for.
I do.
I pull back and thrust full-fucking-force into her pussy. Jagged, helpless cries escape her. I focus on her clit as her cries grow more frantic and then she screams. I keep fingering her, keep fucking her. I finally release her clit and grab her hips for leverage and drive into her relentlessly. Her first orgasm hasn’t ended, but I don’t let it end. I thrust deep and she comes again, harder, her whole pussy spasming around my cock.
“Oh, my God,” she cries. I keep thrusting inside of her. She keeps crying out.
Fuck, yes.
“Mateo,” she cries, reaching back and grabbing my hip. “Oh, my God. Don’t stop, please.”
A bullet to the head couldn’t stop me right now. I draw out her pleasure as long as I can, then when she finally collapses against the bed, I pull out of her.
She’s boneless on the bed. Doesn’t even attempt to move.
I’m not done with her just yet.
She’s too weak to move, so she doesn’t complain when I roll her on her side and nudge her knees forward. Her legs are together and I move up behind her like I’m just going to snuggle her, but then I guide my cock between her legs and spread her lips to fit myself inside her. My thrusts aren’t as hard right now. I don’t need to come just yet. I want her to come again, first. I caress her breasts, toying with her nipples until they’re hard. Mia can’t even think straight yet, so she lets me do whatever I want to her. I really want to eat her out, but maybe her pussy can be my dessert after dinner.
“Oh, no,” she murmurs faintly, presumably as pleasure starts to build again. “Oh, no, I can’t. That was… holy fuck.”
But she can. I show her I can. I fuck her gently until she can handle clit stimulation again, then I shove my little fuckdoll face-down into the pillow again and show her just how hard she can come.
When her pussy squeezes my cock again, I let loose. I bury myself deep into the pulsating warmth and release my cum inside her. Fuck, she feels good. She always feels so good, I’m just glad this time, I got to make her feel good, too.
At least, I’m glad until I realize the hitching isn’t her trying to catch her breath—she’s crying.
My head still vaguely hurts from coming so goddamn hard, but I roll her over and frown down at her. She’s curled up in a ball, eyes squeezed closed. What the hell?
Her voice is alarmingly high as she quietly demands, “Oh, my God, what’s wrong with me?”
“What? Nothing’s wrong with you.”
She scrubs at her eyes with the palms of her hands and turns her back to me again, curling up away from me. “I didn’t want that. I didn’t want any of that. I didn’t want you and I’ve never… I’ve never felt anything like that, and after last night? What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“Mia, nothing is wrong with you.” I go to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugs it off.
“Leave me alone. Please. You like me begging? Well, I’m begging. Please, leave me alone.”
Well, fuck. This isn’t how I saw this going. I mean, I had to be an asshole today, but I didn’t mean to…
I sigh, rolling off the bed and gathering my things. No matter. I only have to get through this one last day of hell, then I never have to leave her broken on my bed again. I can fix this.
I tell myself that more times than a person should have to utter the truth as I get ready and head downstairs to start my day. I cringe when I pass Maria in the hall, knowing the sight she’s about to walk in on.
What a mess.
I head to my study and focus on better times. I shove away the present image of Mia that I just left upstairs and concentrate on tomorrow. Conroy and Hernandez are going to approach her on her way to school, so it will all be over by afternoon. As long as she doesn’t talk, we’ll be okay.
I hope I didn’t make her desperate enough to talk. I need her to keep her mouth shut, but my experience up to this point makes me wary. I don’t want to think about that. I can
’t think about it.
Instead, I call up my personal shopper and tell her I want dresses for Mia sent over today. Something white and form-fitting, something black and sexy. She can wear the white to dinner tonight, and then tomorrow after she gets off school, she can change into the black dress and I’ll take her out to a nice dinner. There’s a quiet, classy French restaurant that will be perfect. They have seats by the window with a gorgeous view of the city. I’ll buy us a bottle of nice, French wine and play every card I need to until she likes me again.
“Yes, make sure it’s a private table by the window,” I verify, glancing up as my brother walks into the room.
Dante wasn’t supposed to come over today. I frown slightly as he leans across my desk and hands me a canister.
The man on the phone asks, “And how many for your party?”
I pop the lid on the canister and look inside. I raise an eyebrow at the sight of a bloody finger. Wasn’t expecting any fingers today. “Two people, s'il vous plait,” I repeat into the phone. I cast a questioning look at Dante, but he crosses his arms behind his back and waits for me to finish my phone call.
“All right, monsieur, I have your reservation all set. Is there anything else we can do for you tonight?”
“Nope, that’s all. Merci. Au revoir.”
I end the call and sit forward, lifting an eyebrow at Dante. “What the hell is this?”
“I dealt with Enzo,” he offers.
My expression deadens. This motherfucker. He pushes me to hurt Mia citing family responsibility as the reason, then he has the gall to bring me a fucking finger and say someone has been dealt with.
“Where’s the rest of his hand?” I ask.
“Attached to his body,” Dante replies.
“Is he breathing?”
“Yes,” he says, vaguely annoyed.
“Then he hasn’t been dealt with. I’m not sure what would possess you to think I might be even remotely in a lenient mood today, Dante, but I’m not.”
“He wasn’t aware of the skimming. I killed the guy who stole from us. Enzo… he’s been going through a rough time. I know it’s not an excuse, but his head was fucked up. He’s done good work for us consistently. I think he’ll continue to do good work for us.”
