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She wears a loose-fitting, pale blue top that brings out the color of her eyes. Jeans that hug her curves. Her pale skin is covered, not a speck of cleavage or thigh showing, and yet she’s so utterly feminine, so perfectly wholesome, I want to protect her and keep her safe.
She’s married.
Yeah, she’s fucking married to a man who beat her.
I’ll find out who he is, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t make that mistake again. Mario’s already working on it. I won’t tell herthat.
I’ve known men who’ve hit women before. Weak-assed pussies who couldn’t hold their own in a fight.I’m not a womanizer, and I’m not a woman worshipper, but hell if I’m not somewhere in between.
I’d never lose who I am to a woman I loved, because love is a fleeting feeling and who I am matters in this family. I respect my brother Ricco, but the man had to step down as leader of our family because of his sick wife.
Loving a woman means giving something up. It isn’t possible to love a wife and my family in equal measure.
Jesus. Why do I fucking care about love?
I’m engaged to be married.
Yes, sir.
She knows I like it when she calls mesir.
She has no fucking idea.
I lift my phone and send Timeo a text.
Get me a fucking submissive tonight.
I need to get this aggression and testosterone out before it chokes me, and I do something I regret.
Sure thing. Preferences?
No brats. No hard limits.
Consider it done.
I take a piece of cotton and wet it with saline. Try to think of a way of cleaning her up without having to touch her again. Then shake my head at myself because do I have no fucking self-control?
“Give me your hand.”
I nestle her hand in my palm. “This might sting,” I say, hesitating to hurt her.
“I know. Do it.”
I grit my teeth and swipe the blood off her palm. She doesn’t even flinch.
Brave, then, too.
Of course.
“Does it hurt?”
“Doesn’t feel good, but I’ve felt a lot worse than that.”
I bet she has.
“Looks like there isn’t much of a cut after all.”
“Good, because I have a meal to cook tonight.”
