I speed up my pace, my pelvis smacking against her ass. There’s no more holding back, no more calculated teasing. I give Elena everything I have, each of my breaths coming out on a moan as my own pleasure starts to reach its peak.
“Come for me, Elena,” I manage between burning, strained breaths. “Let me feel you come all over my cock.”
Elena lets out a relieved sigh and relaxes into my hold, her eyes sliding closed as I pound her relentlessly. Her core tightens around me, and I feel the fluttering of the start of her climax. I tighten the belt just a bit more, making her eyes fly open and a flicker of fear crosses her face. I hold her gaze, loosening the belt just as her orgasm slams into her.
Elena sucks in a breath and lets it out on a string of moans and shocked gasps, her entire body rocked by the climax. I hold her waist and race to my own finish. The convulsions of her cunt heightening the moment my cock jerks and starts to spill. I pull out of her just in time, gripping my shaft and pumping as white streaks of my semen coat her ass. She falls onto her belly, panting for breath as I jerk my cock and come for what feels like forever. It’s so intense I almost think I won’t survive it. Just when I feel like it’s too much, it ends, lowering me slowly back down to earth.
I fall beside Elena, spent and weightless, my head and my eyelids heavy. When I crack my eyes open to look over at Elena, I find her staring back at me. Strands of hair fall over her eyes, but she’s looking right at me through them, her face flushed and stained with dried tears. Her eyes are bright and glistening, her lips parted and begging to be kissed. I don’t think I’ve ever found her more beautiful.
When I’m certain my legs will support me, I pull my pants up and head to the bathroom. Elena doesn’t fight me when I return with two warm, damp washcloths—one to clean my mess off her ass, and the other to wipe away the last traces of her tears.
When I push sweat-dampened hair out of her face and give her a short, soft kiss on the lips, she crumbles. Falling against me, Elena sobs and buries her face in my chest. For a moment I’m startled into stillness and uncertainty, until I think of what I just put her through and the flood of emotions that come with a release like the one she just experienced. I bring my arms around her, going back against the headboard and letting her curl into a ball in my lap. I stroke her hair and kiss the top of her head, her tears wetting my bare skin.
“Shh,” I murmur, running a soothing hand up and down her back. “It’s all right, gatita. Everything will be all right. I have you.”
She clings to me and accepts my comfort, and I squeeze her tighter as her trembling turns into full-on shaking. I jerk the comforter over us, cocooning her in warmth as I rock her back and forth as if cradling a child.
“You were so perfect, Elena. So beautiful. I’m so proud you’re mine. Give in to me. You don’t have to fight it anymore.”
Somehow my words don’t make matters worse. She starts to calm, her sobs calming to sniffles and the splash of tears ceasing after a few minutes. I hold her in silence after that, placing kisses on her forehead and temple, inhaling the scent of us tangled together. My cock stirs again, but I ignore it. Elena can’t take more tonight, and I’m surprisingly content to sit here and hold her.
It isn’t lost on me that Elena is clutching me as if I’m her savior instead of her tormentor—her lover instead of the man she desires but hates equally. As she starts drifting off to sleep in my arms, I come to a frightening realization of my own.
Just as tightly as she is clinging to me, something inside of me clings back, holding on for all its worth. It scares the shit out of me—but even then, I can’t pull away.
21
Elena
Sometime during the night, Diego moves me off his lap and lays me on my stomach. I remember the sting of him touching the flesh he struck with his belt, but then the soothing coolness of some kind of balm followed. The touch of the blanket against my naked, throbbing skin stings, but the edge is taken off by whatever Diego slathered over it. I slept like the dead, my dreams filled with Diego. Arousal plagues me in my sleep, despite the pain in my ass and the soreness between my legs from Diego’s ruthless claiming. Or maybe, because of them.
I hardly know pleasure from pain after what he did to me, taking me to some transcendent place I never would have thought to exist. I once had a friend who was a real life submissive, and her entire lifestyle was shaped around a relationship with a man she called her ‘master.’ At the time, I couldn’t understand how she could let herself be controlled, how she could take pleasure from pain. Now I understand, even if I haven’t decided how I feel about it. The combination of Diego’s dominance and sadistic streak with the pleasure he gives so well are like a drug. Even as I open my eyes the next morning feeling hung over and disoriented, I’m wet and pulsing, my body begging for more.
It doesn’t help that I find Diego sitting in a chair beside the bed, looking completely relaxed, as if last night didn’t happen the way I remember. He’s dressed more casually than usual, in sweatpants and a T-shirt that clings to his chest and biceps. The necklace I noticed the first night we met gleams gold against the black fabric, and I realize it’s a crucifix.
He’s such a contradiction, a mystery my mind can’t help but want to solve—even when the rest of me is determined to get away from him. His tattoos are a tribute to what I assume are deeply held beliefs, but the rest of him is hard and sharp like a blade. How the hell did he come to be this way? Is he this possessive with every woman he takes a liking to, or am I a special case—and if so, why me?
Trying to figure it out makes my head ache, and I squeeze my eyes shut against the bright morning sun. Diego’s big hand falls gently on my forehead, pushing my hair back and then stroking down my cheek.
“Wake up, Elena. We need to talk.”
Knowing he won’t be convinced to wait until later, I slowly rise up on my elbows. The abrasion of the sheets against my ass hurts, but not as badly as I expected. Last night, my butt felt like it was swollen to twice its normal size, and like he had lit it on fire. Reaching back with a tentative hand, I’m surprised to find that there isn’t a single mark left behind. Apparently, Diego knows what he’s doing with a belt. It makes me wonder what else he’s good at.
Annoyed with myself, I ease onto my side, not bothering to stop the blankets from slipping down to my waist. Diego has seen every bit of me, and after last night there’s nothing left for me to hide.
He reaches for a neat stack of folded clothes sitting on the nightstand. “Get dressed. I brought coffee. Would you like some?”
I don’t want to accept anything from Diego, or give him any reason to expect gratitude. I want to be angry over last night and lash out. But I don’t have the strength for either. Diego broke me last night, and I’m not fully myself just yet. I’m confused and exhausted, both mentally and physically, and coffee sounds heavenly.
“Yes, please,” I reply, leaving the bed and accepting the clothes.
My entire body aches, but I push through it to pull on my favorite loungewear set—a soft and worn-in tank top and matching, loose pants. Diego goes to the other side of the bed to where a tray sits on his nightstand, holding a silver pot and a set of cups, and containers of sugar and creamer. Diego pours the coffee, and I’m stunned he remembers how I prefer it. He also seems to have noticed that I like to wear this loungewear set when I’m not feeling my best. Knowing he’s been paying attention to such details only adds to the confusion tearing me up inside.
Diego lets me have the chair, handing me my coffee before settling on the edge of the bed with his own. He watches me with pensive eyes while I take my first few sips, sighing with appreciation of the taste. Mariana makes the best coffee I’ve ever tasted, and Diego added the perfect amount of sugar and cream.
“Thank you,” I murmur, staring down into my cup. Looking at him for too long is harder than ever, because when I do, I can see the truth of what happened between us last night. It’s in his eyes, his demeanor. Everything ha
s changed, even if I can’t pinpoint exactly how. “You wanted to talk?”
He blinks as if coming out of a trance, then tastes his own coffee. “Yes. I didn’t want to disturb your rest, but this is important.”
I swallow past a knot of anxiety in my throat and force myself to speak. “About last night …”
Diego shakes his head, making my words die away. “All is forgotten, gatita. I won’t mention it again if you don’t. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually. I want us to move forward from here. Wipe the slate clean.”
I wrinkle my eyebrows. “You honestly think we can do that—that I can do that after everything that’s happened?”
Diego shrugs. “I figure it’ll be better if we at least try. We had an agreement, Elena, and that agreement hasn’t ended because of our engagement. But once we’re married I want us to come to a new arrangement … one I think you could be happy with. Are you willing to at least try?”
Do I have a choice? I think the question to myself and take a moment to consider the answer. As of now, my best option of survival is to give Diego what he wants. I refuse to believe that some chance to escape won’t come up down the road—a chance I will take without hesitation. For the time being, I have no choice but to give in to him, however temporary it might be. At least I’ve been with him long enough to know that my complacence will be rewarded. If I hadn’t ruined everything with my desperate actions last night, I wouldn’t be in this position. Now, we’re starting over at square one.
“I think so,” I hedge, not willing to agree to anything just yet. “What did you have in mind?”
Diego seems more relaxed now, taking slow sips of his coffee and easing his posture. “First of all, I want you to know I have no intention of keeping you from your business. Since you’ve been here, I’ve come to see how important it is to you.”
“It’s my entire life,” I admit, hope making my stomach lurch at the possibility of getting back to work.
“I know, and I want you to be successful. So, you will be allowed to return to Belleza and resume your normal schedule—but,” he adds, holding up a hand when my lips split into a wide smile, “not without a driver and two guards. This isn’t just so you don’t try to run, but also for your protection. I won’t pretend that being my wife will be easy, but one thing you can always depend on is your security. You will not go anywhere alone, ever. If you aren’t with me or Jovan, another one of my soldiers will be with you.”
“Are you serious?” I argue, throwing my hands up. “What the hell am I supposed to tell people when they ask why I have a squad of thugs with me wherever I go?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. Tell them your husband is rich and overprotective. Tell them something your idiot of a father did has led to you needing to hire security. I leave that decision up to you, but my requirements will not change. You will not go anywhere alone. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” I say quickly, not wanting him to take it back. I don’t know if Diego is giving me this because he feels guilty, or because he knows it’ll make me cooperate, but I don’t care. I want my business back.
“Good,” he says. “I own a building near the Design District, so if commuting back and forth is too much for you, we can stay there during the week and come home on the weekends.”
I frown, sitting up straighter. “We?”
He chuckles. “Yes, gatita. Did you think I would let you be away from me for so long without wanting to be near you?”
The question leaves me feeling warm inside, and I hate it. I can’t develop any soft spots for this man, no matter how charming he can be when he isn’t being an ungodly terror.
“Besides,” he adds, “being in the city for a while will be good for my own business. Which leads me to the next thing we need to discuss. What I do … what I am … it doesn’t have to be a part of our lives as husband and wife. Honestly, aside from having you attend occasional events and parties, I want your life to be as normal as possible.”
I raise one eyebrow. “Yeah, because everything about this is normal. My fairytale ending come true.”
Diego gives me a chastising look and shakes his head. “I’m serious. I’ll do my best to keep you away from any aspect of cartel business, and you will trust me to protect you from it. I’ve done it for Marcella for most of her life, so I like to think I’m pretty good at it.”
“Fine,” I reply. “I have no interest in your shady bullshit anyway.”
This gets another laugh out of him, and I notice he seems to be doing that more easily lately. He still rarely smiles but when he laughs, I get a glimpse of what that smile might look like. It’s charming and gorgeous … because of course nothing about him can be anything short of physical perfection. It’s the rest of him that’s fucked up, and somehow that just makes him more intriguing.
Holy shit. I’m losing my mind and he’s the one to blame.
“I want contact with my family and friends,” I blurt out before I can lose my courage. “I want a phone, and a laptop. I want to be able to call my sister and check my email, shop online. You know … normal people shit.”
All the humor leaves his face, and it’s like a stone wall has come up between us. “I’ll allow it in time. You have to understand that I can’t trust you with a phone or a laptop after last night. But I do want to trust you. I don’t want to keep you from your family or your friends. Give me time, Elena.”
I nod, admitting to myself that’s fair enough. I’m the one responsible for this—hopefully temporary—regression. Over time, he’ll give me more leeway and I won’t take advantage of it until the moment is right.
“There’s one last thing,” he says. “I still want you as much as I always have. Last night hasn’t changed that. But I won’t try to force you to give me your body. That choice will always be yours.”
Another shock, this one making me incapable of speech for a moment. I never expected to be given so much control, but Diego did say that this new agreement would be different. Where I once saw marrying him as a deeper form of imprisonment, I’m starting to think it might be a step in the other direction. As Diego’s ‘property,’ I was completely at his mercy in every way. It was something I was prepared to accept and endure. Now, he’s telling me I won’t have to accept or endure anything anymore.
“Okay,” I say with a slow nod. “Thank you.”
“And, adding to that … I need you to start some form of birth control as soon as possible. I’ll send for my personal doctor and he’ll prescribe it.”
I had been on the pill before being kidnapped, and have now been off it nearly three months. This development makes me feel better about the whole thing, but I can’t resist probing deeper. Something about the steel in his words tells me this is important to him.
“Why?” I ask. “I mean … if we’ll be married, why would you care?”
Diego leans closer, setting his cup aside and resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze is intent as it locks with mine. “I promised myself years ago that I would never bring children into this world. I have been a child raised by a mafia boss and his ruthless bitch of a wife. I won’t do to any kid what my parents did to me. I won’t shape or mold anyone in my own image. When I die, my mantle will fall to Jovan.”
I stare at him, open-mouthed and grappling with what I’ve just heard. His aversion to having children is a sharp contradiction to what I’ve come to understand about this world of criminals and conmen. Family structure is a part of their hierarchy, and his men take being husbands and fathers as seriously as they do being soldiers. I can’t help but wonder why Diego feels this way, and why he would refer to his own mother as a ruthless bitch. She must have really done a number on him.
It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to have children with him anyway; they would be just another thing binding us together and making it harder for me to escape. I should be thankful, not curious.
“Okay. I can agree with that.”
Diego looks relieved. Offering m
e a hand, he pulls me to my feet and steps close. He smells fresh from the shower and his face is scraped clean of stubble. I feel filthy in comparison and know my hair is a mess, but he’s looking at me like I’m perfection itself.
Cupping my cheek, Diego kisses me. It’s long and slow and almost sweet. I can feel the restraint he’s exercising, his body practically vibrating with the beast he let out of the cage last night. Part of me is reassured, and part of me wonders when I might confront that beast again. I shiver, swaying into him as he breaks the kiss.
“I don’t want us to be constantly at war, gatita. I want to try to make you happy. Will you let me?”
I force a smile, even though I feel sick to my stomach. There’s something inside of me that warms at his promise, that yearns for more of this tenderness and sweetness from him. The last bit of resistance I have left pushes back against that feeling, reminding me of the horrible things this man has done, both to me and to others.
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. What else can I say? I have agreed to yet another form of attachment to Diego and have no choice but to go along with whatever he asks of me. I can only hope that in the end he won’t consume all of me. There might be nothing left for me to escape with.
“Good,” he says, giving me another quick kiss before stepping away. “Now, relax for the day. The salve I used on you last night is in the bathroom. Keep applying it a few times a day until you feel better. Your dress fitting will finish tomorrow, and I’m booking a spa day for you the day before the wedding.”
Without waiting for me to agree—because, really, why would he?—Diego leaves the room without a look back. The door doesn’t lock behind him, but it might as well have. The second I step foot outside this room, all eyes will be on me I’m sure Diego has his men on high alert after last night. My chances of escape keep getting narrower, leaving me with fewer and fewer options.
Marrying the Mobster: American Gangsters 1 (Leave Me Breathless) Page 17
