Page 19 of Mafia Sinner

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I need to get out of here before it’s too late. I cross to the nearest window.


Is this another test? My ass smarts as if he’s already spanking me.

Fuck it, I tell myself. I’ve got to try.

Without looking back, I slide the window open enough to climb through, setting off running across the grass for the distant wall that separates the madness of this place from the sanity of the outside world. I will never look back. I will never give him a child. I hate him with all my heart.

I make it halfway up the wall before I’m caught. I get one glimpse of freedom before it’s taken from me. I’m yanked back down by the ever-present security team, and my chance of freedom slips away from me yet again.



She is mine. Legally, I own her. She is my wife. My possession. And rapidly becoming my obsession. Even as she ran, I wanted to tell my men not to lay their hands on her.

Jealousy roars through me at the thought of them touching her. She belongs to me. No one should ever touch her again but me. I’ll kill anyone who looks at her the wrong way.

Of course she ran. She is frightened of how I make her feel, of the truth of her desire for me. She runs because it is what she thinks will protect her but it will not. It will only put off the real pain of removing the last of that shield from around her, of embracing who she really is.

I have her brought to me in her bedroom. I sit in an armchair as she’s dumped on her feet. I send my men away, managing not to break their arms for touching her.

The door slams shut and we’re alone. She glares at me, saying nothing. “You have grass stains on your shoes,” I say. “They were expensive.”

“Do you think I give a shit about that?”

“I can see you need a stronger lesson than before.”

“You don’t frighten me.”

“Yes, I do. I can see it in your eyes. I frighten you because you desire me and you do fear that feeling.”

She shakes her head but it’s not me she’s trying to convince. “I don’t desire you.”

“Yes, you do. Take that dress off.”


I don’t raise my voice. I lower it. She winces, expecting shouting, a frown furrowing her brow when I speak in a gentle voice. “You’ll take it off or I’ll rip it from you and leave you naked for the next week with an ass so red it could stop traffic.”

She looks at me and I see it even though she does her best to hide it. That flicker of excitement, buried deep but it’s there.

It’s going the way I hoped it would. Soon, I’ll have her begging, then I’ll get her pregnant. Once she has my child, my revenge will be complete. Hell, I could toss her out on the street and keep the kid. I’ll have an heir, I’ll have no more need for her.

The thought stabs at me like a needle to my heart. Why should that idea hurt? That’s what this whole thing is about. Revenge.

“I’ll give you five seconds,” I say but I know it won’t take more than three.

“All right,” she says as I count in my head. She slips the dress from her shoulders, looking at me with disgust in her eyes. “I hate you.”

“You keep telling yourself that if you like but we both know the truth.”

“You act like you know me but you don’t.” The dress pools on the floor at her feet. She steps out of it and I take a good look at her body. The tiny white panties, the thin lacy matching bra, the heels that accentuate her calves.

My cock hardens in an instant.

“Over my lap,” I tell her, pointing at where I want her. She walks over without pausing longer than a few seconds. Already she’s getting used to the dynamic between us. Soon, her responses will be automatic. The idea almost disappoints me. I like the fight in her. Makes this whole thing more fun.

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