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“Get the fuck out.”
He cocked a brow, and I wanted to slap that sexy smirk off his face. “You don’t want me to get out, Emila.”
“I hate you,” I whispered, the words sounding far more broken and strangled than I wanted.
“Because I punished you? Or because you’re mine?”
“I’m not fucking yours!”
“You wanted to be mine last night.” That smirk grew into a smile, and he lay back on the bed, folding his arms behind his head. His gaze flicked to my chest, to where he had come on me. “And you sure as hell look like mine right now.”
I wanted to hurt him, to make him feel as powerless as I had been because I was so tired of men controlling me. He was right, though; I had begged him to make me come, wanted him, and that made it all so much worse. He’d manipulated me, twisted me up, and played me like the pawn I always fucking was.
Red mist descended, rage consuming me until I wanted to hurt him, but I couldn’t because he was untouchable. Before I knew it, I was launching the lamp at a wall, porcelain scattering across the floor. Then I was tearing one of the TVs from the wall. “Controlling, psychopathic, asshole.” It crashed to the floor, and the destruction was so satisfying, feeding the angry creature that now writhed beneath my skin. Then I turned the nightstand over, annoyed that he didn’t have more decorative shit in here to trash. I was so intent on my rampage that I didn’t even notice him move until he was standing right in front of me, looking better than he had any right to in just a pair of boxers. That pissed me off even more. The only small solace I found was in the dressing taped to his side, but even knowing I had cut him wasn’t enough to temper me.
“Emilia…”
My hands slammed against his chest, and he just let me. Something in me was wide open, a gaping void of ugly pain and crippling weakness that was suddenly spilling out. I couldn’t control it because I couldn’t control anything. Tears broke free as my fists pounded against him, and his complete lack of reaction only enraged me further.
“You’re all the same! At least my uncle or my father never tied me to a bed, though, so congratulations, Gio. You’re officially the worst person I’ve ever met.”
“You earned that punishment, piccola, and you know it.”
“Because I want a life away from your bullshit mafia?”
“You’ll never escape the mafia—mine or your uncle’s. Blood in, blood out, and you were born with that blood in your veins.”
A humorless laugh slipped from my throat. “So, what? This is my lot, and I should just lay down and play your sex slave?”
“Seemed pretty keen for my dick last night. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
My palm met his cheek with a resounding clap. His face twisted to the side before he smiled. Fucking smiled while the pink outline of my fingers blossomed on his skin. He was probably dreaming of all the ways he could punish me again, but I was past fear.
“You’re just mad I didn’t let you come.”
“Fuck you, Gio.” I went to hit him again because I wanted a damn reaction. I got one.
With a growl, he caught my wrist, then the other, binding them behind my back with one hand. I thrashed in his hold as he wrenched me against his near-naked body.
His grip on my wrists tightened as his other hand trailed down my chest, over the remnants of his dried come on my body. “Or maybe you’re just pissed that I marked you. You look so beautiful like this, piccola.”
My skin heated, his touch a curse I couldn’t fight.
“So tainted. So angry.”
“Don’t touch me,” I breathed, closing my eyes.
He made me crave things I didn’t want to. It was like I didn’t even recognize myself.
“Please.”
He didn’t release me.
“We both know you want me to touch you, to make you come. On my fingers. My tongue. My cock.”
My entire body trembled with need as his lips whispered over my cheek, but it wasn’t real, just a manipulation.
“But you aren’t handling your submission very well right now.”
“That was not submission—”
“And as much as I like seeing you covered in me…” He released me and stepped back. “Get in the shower, princess.”
I frowned at him, confused and reeling.
“Don’t worry. Soon enough, I’ll mark you much more permanently.” One finger brushed my throat. “My grip imprinted on your throat, my come in that tight pussy, my name...”
I stumbled away from him, part sick at the thought and part curious. That damn curiosity was going to cost me.
“Shower. Now.”
I suddenly felt numb, drained, and my feet seemed to move on their own. When I went into the bathroom, he followed, his bare feet padding over the tile.
