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Growling, I unzip and my cock comes out. A moment later, I’m dragging her over to the window and yanking down her shorts, pressing her face against the clear plastic as I fuck her and spank her ass.
“Still fucking mine,” I rasp, holding her neck as I near my climax. “Always fucking mine, collar or not.”
My orgasm explodes through me and I clutch her, groaning in her ear.
***
Ava
With about an hour to go before we land at the Bover City airport, Alessandro finally removes the plug. Other than the cum slowly leaking into my underwear, that’s the last physical reminder of his dominance over me. His ownership.
My head is still reeling from the last couple of days. I can barely process how exhilarating that entire experience was, how freeing itwas to completely let go like that. When Alessandro caught me the second time,thatwas true surrender.
And I loved it.
It’s hard to describe. But somehow, in being restrained by him, I felt safe. Cared for.Important. Maybe it’s the sheer amount of attention he showed, the effort he put into finding me, catching me,usingme once I was caught. But right now, I don’t feel like a pawn in the chess game of Mafia politics.
I feel like his wife.
I feel like someone Alessandro dotes on, and creates special experiences for her birthday. How much did renting that island cost, much less on short notice? The food stations? The private jet? Not just the expense, but the effort. He set all of this up, did all that thinking, all that planning, and for what?
To make me happy.
And it did.
So why do I feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop?
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ava
Three days later
Being back in Bover City is a harsh return to reality. On that island, everything melted away. But now that I’m back in the real world, I have no choice but to take an honest look at my circumstances.
I’m barreling headfirst into this thing, even though I know I shouldn’t.
I wasn’t supposed to have feelings for my husband.
He doesn’t have them for me. I might want to tell myself that, but I know it would be a lie. He likes fucking me. He likes mesubmitting to him. He likes that our marriage has allowed him to take over my father’s crime family.
But I’d be kidding myself if I thought it was more than that. Wouldn’t I? He’s said as much himself. And now I’ve got all the memories of this amazing birthday trip, and all the emotions within that, and they’re fucking with me. I have to keep reminding myself that it isn’t real.
I grew up with Mafia men. I know how they think and how they operate. And because of that, I know exactly what their wives are to them:
Babymakers. Vehicles to secure their legacy. A means to an end.
Not lovers. Not partners.
That amazing trip to Mexico my dad took us on when I was 12, the one I still think about? That was my mom’s consolation prize after she caught him renting a hotel room with a cocktail waitress from his nightclub. She let it slip a few years later, after her seventh glass of wine. It was one of the few unguarded moments where she allowed me to see her as something other than the devoted mob wife, and that peak behind the mask has stayed with me ever since.
Could my situation really be different?
I sit in my car in Alessandro's driveway, staring at my reflection in the rearview mirror. I've spent my whole life not wanting to become my mother. Not wanting a life like hers, not wanting amarriagelike hers. And yet with every choice I make, the worry grows that I'm on a path that leads to the exact same place.
It's driving me crazy.
Am I ignoring all the obvious signs? Am I a fool because I'm falling for him? Or am I just worrying myself out of happiness because my own personal baggage won't let me feel safe?
