by Nia Farrell
She changed Dante’s diaper between sides. When he finished, he was ready for another nap.
Thankfully, they’d had no interruptions. His cousin Valentina was running the 5K, and Leonardo and Riccardo were probably still in their bunks, which was just as well. Not that they were any competition where Beth was concerned, but Ricky looked like Italian actor Guilio Burruti and larger-than-life Leo was an Italian version of Brock O’Hurn.
“Next week, I want you to check with the doctor and see about starting him on baby food.” He’d already left for a weekend seminar when she called yesterday. “We have four months until the wedding. That night, I want you in my bed until morning, with no interruptions. We need to be able to leave him overnight.”
Beth stiffened. For a second, he thought that she was going to argue with him, but she pressed her lips together, sealing in whatever she might have said. Swallowing her words, she took a breath and exhaled it slowly.
When she spoke, she kept her tone patently neutral “I need to wash my hands. Can you watch him, please?”
“Sure,” he said. “There’s a sink in the kitchen. The bathroom’s toward the back if you need to pee. Anything more, we gotta use the public restrooms or the johnnies. Rules of the bus.”
Beth was smart enough to figure it out. “Oh! Okay. I’ll just…go wash my hands…in the back.”
“Left side,” he told her. “Past the bunks.” The space opposite the bathroom was a mini-lounge with padded bench seating and a foldaway table. The boys said it was good for a midnight songwriting session or a quick fuck if they needed privacy. Two of their cousins were okay with watching, but they wanted to keep Valentina happy. The band had been struggling before Carmine’s little sister came on board as their drummer. Now they were represented by one of the best agents in the business and were working on their second album for their label. Life was good for Ribelle.
Good for him, too, he supposed. He had a son, a fiancée, and a successful restaurant. The only thing he was lacking was closure with Reaper, but that required finding the son of a bitch.
By comparison, weaning a baby should be a piece of cake.
20
It turned out, weaning the kid wasn’t nearly as simple as it sounded.
At first, the pediatrician wanted breast milk only for six months. Six. Fucking. Months. Rossi was a mob doctor. Matteo made sure that he knew what—and whom—he was dealing with. So, four months or double his birth weight, whichever came first.
Beth had called it earlier. When four months came, she introduced things one at a time, then it was wait-and-see. To give Dante the best start, she fucking made his baby food. She pureed vegetables, fruits, meat. The kid was a sucker for squashes. Didn’t matter what kind. Apples and peaches, too. Juicy roast chicken and lean roast beef. They made his shit stink, but he was sleeping longer at a time, thank fuck.
And then the teething started.
Talk about cock blocking. Jesus.
It’s a good thing Dante was so damn cute when he wasn’t crying. By October, he was doing that baby babble stuff, getting ready to talk for real. He sat on his tush all by himself and inched around on his tummy, rolling over like a cop on the Visconti payroll when he wanted to nab a favorite toy.
Meanwhile, Delia was handling all the wedding and reception details. Matteo stayed the hell out of it where he could. The only thing he insisted on was that Beth wear her hair long and loose with no fucking hairspray. He’d been to more than one wedding where intricate do’s made the women look like brides of Frankenstein on a catwalk. He planned to be the only thing stiff in their bed.
He met Beth’s mother at Italian Fest. Sue Shelton had had a hard life. She numbed her pain with alcohol. Beth had cringed to see her drinking. Sue’s friend with benefits managed to talk her into leaving early, ahead of the concert where more drama was about to unfold.
Fucking rock star brothers and their fucking cocks.
One of the women involved was the maid of honor in the wedding party. At least Juliette was paired with the oldest of his brothers and not the youngest. The press pass that she’d worn to the meet-and-greet was still shoved up Tony’s ass.
The wedding was fit for Mafia royalty. Beth looked every inch the princess bride with five attendants all dressed to the nines. Val was his best man. His groomsmen were his cousins, Frankie the chef and larger-than-life Leo, and his rocker brothers Marco and Tony. Leo’s photographer sisters Aurelia and Aurora made everyone get to the church an hour ahead of the ceremony for the first of the still shots and videos.
Giovanni’s catered the early afternoon reception, held at the Visconti vineyard that was Val’s domain when he wasn’t out on other family business. Too bad Matteo couldn’t send him for Reaper, but Val had his hands full. The last of the harvest was done. New wine was fermenting, and oak casks from past harvests were waiting to be emptied and bottled. They’d canceled the daily tours, and security guards at the entrance gate were checking names for admission. Soldatos had been patrolling the grounds since yesterday, keeping the perimeters secured and the venue safe for their family and friends.
Matteo smiled through it all. Well, as close as he came to smiling. The wedding and the pictures. The sit-down meal and cutting the cake. He got hard when Beth sucked his finger into her mouth and teased off the icing with her tongue. Thank fuck, his tux hid most of what he was packing.
She was gonna pay for that later. He had time to think about how. The dance lasted until nine. An early night, as events went, but they needed to get Dante squared away and hit the road for their first night alone since he kidnapped Beth last year.
She didn’t know it, but they were returning to the scene of the crime.
Mad Dog McLanahan hadn’t blinked when Matteo asked about loaning them the safe house for their wedding night. He still felt bad that Matteo had been shot when they rescued Mad Dog’s mother.
Matteo had stocked it earlier. This time, they’d have guards posted outside. Inside, he planned a session of kinky sex that would last them all night long. With no baby and no other fucking ears around, he’d finally get to see how rough he could get before she tried to tap out.
Tried being the key word here.
Beth belonged to him. She was his to do with as he pleased, when he pleased, in whatever fucking way he wanted. If not for him, she’d be dead. She owed him. Every day, every hour, every breath was a gift of his grace. He would see that she remembered that.
She nursed the baby one last time before they left. When she couldn’t find Juliette to help her, he went with her to undo her dress.
“I haven’t seen her in a while.” Beth shook her head and sighed softly. “She was dancing with the bridesmaids, last I saw.”
He rubbed his jaw, considering just how much he should tell her. Fuck it. Sooner or later, she’d know. “Last I saw, she was sneaking off with Tony. Maybe third time’s the charm, huh?”
Beth shot him a look of disbelief. “Or he kidnapped her.” Those sapphire blue eyes narrowed. “Did your brother come packing?”
“He’s a Visconti. We’re always packing,” he drawled, cupping his scrotum. “If he’s lucky, she’ll be able to handle him. If not, you got four other bridesmaids, right?”
Beth rolled her eyes. “Not everyone’s looking to get laid.”
“No,” he agreed. “But women love musicians, especially lead vocalists, and weddings make people do things that are out of character. Take chances and see what comes. Juliette could do a lot worse. She was dancing with Vincenzo earlier. Carmine’s little brother.” As much as he loved his family, he knew better than to trust the Botturo branch of it. His Aunt Isadora was as blind to her kids’ faults as she was to her husband’s. Valentina was the best of the bunch, but even she’d had some serious issues.
Beth shuddered. “I would have warned her if I’d known.”
“You were busy with the baby. Diaper duty. I was keeping an eye out, just in case.”
“Thank you.”
She finished up and got Dante to sleep. Matteo fastened her dress in the back and went to get Bernardo and Constanza. The waterproof mascara that she’d worn for the wedding was put to the test when she kissed Dante goodbye.
“Hey,” Matteo crooned. “He’ll be okay. They got this. And where we’re going is only forty-five minutes from home. Worst case scenario, we can fly low and be there in ten less.”
She pressed her fingertips to her cheeks and tried to save the rest of her makeup.
“Come on, bella. You’ve looked beautiful all day. You don’t want to look like a train wreck in the last pictures that Aurelia takes.”
Like she could. Even red-eyed and snot-nosed, she was gorgeous. Yeah, he did good, picking her. Things hadn’t turned out the way that he expected, but that was okay. They’d had four months to get to know each other better. Nobody was perfect, but Beth had fewer faults than most. She was definitely lower maintenance than Chiara. If he was gonna knock someone up, it could have been a lot worse than what he had going with Beth.
So far, she’d handled whatever he’d given her, but tonight would test her limits. Oh, he’d make sure that she got off, too. It was their wedding night, after all.
He chose to not blindfold her for the drive. It was dark, and in this remote part of the country, she’d need a photographic memory and a clear view of road signs to find where they were headed. Just in case, he had her lean back the seat, where she couldn’t see outside.
The trip wasn’t that long, but she fucking fell asleep on him. Today had worn her out.
“Hey.” He pocketed the keys and rubbed her forearm. Nothing.
“Beth.” He nudged her shoulder. “Come on, Beth. Wake up. We’re here.”
She pried open her eyes and slapped a hand over her mouth to hide her yawn. “Sorry,” she apologized, returning her seat to the upright position. “It’s been a long day. Where are we—”
She stopped short when she looked out the window. “Oh!”
It came out as a single, heartfelt sigh. Beth thought it was romantic. Matteo chose it because it was remote. No neighbors. No interference. Whatever he wanted to do, he could. His only limit was time. It was ten pm. They had all night. He planned to make the most of it.
Their bags were already inside when he carried her over the threshold. Getting the place prepped had let him deal with his memories. Seeing it again hit Beth hard. She looked at the floor where he’d lain bleeding to death and started crying again.
He let her slide to her feet but kept hold of her, making sure that she was safe to stand.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffed, clinging to his arm. “I was so scared. I almost lost you.”
“But you didn’t,” he said. “I’m here. And tonight, we’re gonna do what I wanted to then but couldn’t.”
He caught her hand and pulled her after him, not stopping until they came to the same bedroom that they had used before. The sitting area had been transformed into a kinkster’s play space, with a spanking bench, a St. Andrew’s cross, and a table covered with equipment and toys.
Beth looked at him, her sapphire eyes full of unspoken questions and more than a little fear.
Matteo took off his jacket and reached for his tie. “Strip,” he ordered.
She stood, frozen in place, eyes nervously darting like a cornered animal.
He tossed his tie, took out his cufflinks, and began rolling up his sleeves. “Dress off. Now, bella. You won’t like what happens if you make me repeat myself.”
“I need help,” she croaked. “The zipper…”
In back. Yeah, he’d had to help her with it at the reception, too. “Turn around,” he growled.
He found the tab and slid it down, revealing a wedge of soft, pale skin and the tantalizing length of her spine, from the nape of her neck to the perfect curve of her low back. He was tempted to bend her over the bed and fuck the shit out of her, just to take the edge off before he got serious. Instead, he stroked himself and watched her undress.
She folded her petticoats in half, laid them in a corner, and added her wedding gown to the top of the stack. She’d forgone a nursing bra for a matched set of lingerie in virginal white, with a garter belt, thigh-high hose, and strappy heels that had threatened to topple her more than once.
She turned to find him behind her, blocking the way. She looked up, her questioning gaze taking in the flare of his nostrils and the lust in his eyes.
He backed her into the wall. Raising his arms, he planted a hand on either side of her, bracketing her body. She inhaled sharply and pressed her palms against the designer-colored surface, looking like she wished that she could disappear into it.
Fat chance. She was his. Tonight, she’d learn what that meant.
He bent his elbow and leaned closer. Pressing his forehead against hers, he inhaled the soft scent of her skin and smiled to feel her tremble. Fear would heighten the experience.
For him, at least.
Matteo slid one hand behind her neck and peeled her off the wall. He speared his fingers into her hair and fisted it. Pulling back, he forced her face up and made her look at him.
Such a fucking innocent. Even after all this time, she seemed untainted by the dirty business that his family dealt with on a daily basis. Drugs. Prostitution. Gambling. Loans. Hostile takeovers of the legitimate businesses that they needed for laundering more money. His father might appear upper middle class, but the truth was, he was rich as Croesus.
And when you’re the man on top, you have enemies looking to take you down. Things had to be dealt with, on both sides. Fortunately, Beth was such a shirttail relation to the Sheltons, no one had batted an eye when she was taken. She didn’t rate a protest, let alone retaliation. They’d given her up without a word. Just that easy. Just that simple.
No one wanted a war.
Matteo tightened his hold. She gritted her teeth, panting now. He dropped his gaze to her heaving chest. She could deny it all she wanted, but her nipples were hard, and the air between them was rife with the scent of her arousal.
He shoved his free hand between her legs and felt the wetness through her panties. “Tonight, when you’re allowed to speak, you’ll call me Sir. Blink twice if you understand.”
Her eyelashes lowered, lifted, and fanned down again.
He slapped her pussy. “Eyes on me, bella. You’re not allowed to shut me out. Not anywhere. Not your eyes. Not your ears. Not your mouth or your pussy or your ass. Every inch of you is mine, capisci? Mine to test. Mine to take. Whenever. Wherever. However.”
He dropped his gaze to that tempting mouth.
“Lick your lips if you understand.”
The tip of her tongue laved her lips, leaving them glossy and wet.
Matteo nodded smugly. “Now that you’re ready for me, let’s begin.”
21
He started with a blowjob, fisting her hair and force-feeding Beth his erection until she’d taken him down to the root. He fucked her face, taking pleasure in her scrabbling hands and the muted whimpers that escaped anytime she didn’t have his length shoved down her throat.
She’d married a monster.
A sadist, anyway. There were limits to his perversions. At least, that’s what she told herself. She couldn’t envision him permanently marking or disfiguring her. When he’d bound her to the St. Andrew’s cross with her nipples clamped, an anal plug up her ass, and a pussy full of frozen grapes, he was careful to not leave marks where they would be seen by anyone but him.
He’d used a flogger, a paddle, a crop, a more aggressive paddle, a tawse, and a cane until her skin bloomed red, white, and blue with bruises and weals. When her flesh was marked just the way he wanted, he’d replaced the anal plug with his cock and had taken her where she stood.
Now she was lying on her back with her weight on her abused flesh, bound spread-eagle to the four corners of the bed.
At least the nipple clamps were off.
Matteo selected his next toy. Pricking her skin with a Wartenberg whe
el, he traversed her body like a surveyor making his marks. Occasionally, he stopped and pulled out another grape, succulent with her juices, and popped it in his mouth.
Eventually, he ate them all.
Matteo had made a soundtrack for tonight. The current album was by a Russian acoustical guitarist whose arrangements were as clever as some of Matteo’s kinks.
Beth was learning about her husband, but more than that, she was learning about herself. In the four months that they’d been together, he had conditioned her to yearn for his touch. She didn’t consider herself a painslut, but she enjoyed when he started getting rough. When it crossed the line and became something that she needed to bear, she had learned to be patient, knowing that her compliance would eventually be rewarded. When she’d told herself that she would do anything to keep alive and stay with her son, she never realized that she would come to crave Matteo like a drug.
He left her for a moment. She whimpered at the loss. The soundtrack changed again, this time to an Italian female vocalist, Alessandra Amoroso. Beth recognized the song. The sultry pop ballad with its driving rhythm was one of his favorite songs to fuck to.
Just that fast, her body reacted, nerve endings lighting up like a Vegas slot machine announcing that a payout was at hand. Mounting the bed, Matteo climbed between her legs, notched the head of his cock in her pussy, and claimed her in a single, searing thrust that reached her very soul.
She cried out from the force of it.
The weight of his body pinned her hips to the mattress. When he started driving into her, the soft bottom sheet abraded the tender flesh of her backside. Every move became exquisite torture. Pleasure entwined with pain.
The intensity on his face was mesmerizing. The gleam in his dark eyes was one of pure triumph. He had coveted her tears, and she had given them. But if he could make her cry and beg for more, didn’t that make her just as messed up as he was? The twisted truth was, he had dragged her down into his world and made her want to stay.
