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“I’m sorry,” I cry out as another smack jolts me. “I didn’t think.”
Alessandro tuts disapprovingly. “You can’t afford to have lapses in thought, Emilia. There are people out there who would think nothing of hurting you to hurt my family.”
He strikes the fullest part of my ass, and a sob escapes me. Pain prickles over my skin, an unpleasant sensation. Despite that, desire swells inside me. I need something, but I’m not sure what.
“Alessandro.” Whining in desperation, I move my hand off the back of the sofa and instinctively reach between my legs.
“Get back in position!” Alessandro says harshly. “Nobody touches your pussy but me.”
A wave of humiliation sweeps over me. I can’t believe I tried to touch myself in front of him. Bowing my head, I get back into position. Alessandro’s hand lands heavily on my throbbing ass repeatedly until I can’t help but wiggle my hips to try to alleviate the pain. Tears trickle from the corners of my eyes. They’re born mainly from the internal turmoil I’m experiencing. I should hate being punished by Alessandro, but I don’t. Not entirely.
It’s overwhelming to have pleasure rippling through me, even as my husband punishes me. As I think of Alessandro in those terms, it becomes too much to bear. This is our wedding day. I can’t believe this is happening.
“Please stop, Alessandro.” No longer able to hold myself up, I slump forward. “I can’t…”
I don’t finish the thought. Alessandro pulls me to my feet and turns me so he can see my face. I’m surprised when he gently brushes the tears from my cheeks with the back of his fingers.
“It’s over now,dolcezza,” he tells me. “But the next time you decide to act recklessly, I will take my belt to your ass. Do you understand?”
I nod miserably. I’m glad he doesn’t demand a verbal response because I don’t think I could summon words right now.
“Good girl.” He smiles at me, his expression the softest I’ve seen from him so far. “Now, let’s go upstairs and get you out of this dress. It’s time to make you mine.”
CHAPTER 8
Emilia
Standing in front of the mirror in the luxurious bathroom that adjoins Alessandro’s bedroom, I sigh. Regrettably, there’s nothing I can do to reduce the red puffiness around my eyes. I tried splashing some cold water on my face but it’s had little effect. Alessandro will just have to accept that his bride looks a complete mess. He’s the one who made me cry, after all.
He granted me a few minutes to compose myself but forbade me from removing my dress. It seems he wants to take it off me himself. I wonder what that represents in his mind. Perhaps he views it as a stripping away of innocence. Who knows what’s going on in his head? I don’t have the first clue what to expect from him. Will he be gentle as he takes my virginity, or are the remnants of his earlier anger going to make him want to hurt me?
Either way, I know I can’t delay any longer. Taking a deep breath to fortify myself, I step out into the bedroom. Decoratedin various shades of green, the room is darker than the ones I saw downstairs. It has a moodier vibe. The focal point is the enormous bed with its dramatic quilted headboard that reaches almost to the ceiling. With black sheets on the bed, it resembles an open mouth, waiting to swallow me whole. I don’t much like it.
Alessandro is at the window, arm raised above his head as he leans in close to the glass and stares out into the garden. Though he’s taken off his shirt and pants, he doesn’t appear at ease. I guess a man in his position rarely lets his guard down.
I swallow hard as I let my eyes drift over his body. The tattoo on his shoulder is stunning. It’s so incredibly detailed. I still don’t know what the dark, winged horse signifies, but it reveals one aspect of my husband’s personality. He can be patient when he wants to be, because it must have taken hours to get that done.
His legs are long and lean, his ass taut beneath blue and white striped boxer briefs. As he turns toward me, I gasp. It’s not his muscular chest that makes my heart stutter, but the massive bulge at the front of his underwear. I should look away, but I’m transfixed. A quip about him being pleased to see me pops into my head, but I don’t make it. The moment is too important for me to make light of it.
“Come here,dolcezza.”
Before, he wanted to chase me. Now he’s making me come to him. I guess either way, it’s a demonstration of his power. He’s the master here and I must obey. If I’m honest, I’m glad about that. I need him to take charge because I am way too nervous to act of my own accord.
Hoping he doesn’t see how nervous I am, I walk toward Alessandro, my skirts swishing about my ankles. The dark desire in his eyes should frighten someone as inexperienced as me, but instead, it boosts my confidence to know how much he wants me.
“Turn around,” he commands.
I do as he asked, spinning on the ball of my foot to offer him my back. He sweeps my hair out of the way and unzips my dress. I hold my breath as the rough pads of his fingertips graze my skin. How can such an innocuous touch make my pulse flicker?
“I’m glad I chose one with a zipper,” he murmurs as he pulls my dress down over my hips. “Because I cannot wait to see your beautiful body.”
“You’ve already seen it.”
Alessandro turns me around and helps me to step out of the pool of fabric on the floor.
“Yes, but you weren’t mine then.”
There’s a growly possessiveness in his voice that makes my pussy clench. I press my thighs together, a move that doesn’t go unnoticed, judging by Alessandro’s knowing chuckle.
