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My steps are slow as I brush past the group at the back, who chose to stand, not sit. My eyes collide with Wicked and seconds pass.
Sliding into the back seat, I slam the door closed as Mik sits beside me, opening his phone. An emptiness throbs in my gut as I think over everything that has lead me to this point. Marrying someone I would rather push under a bus.
The car stops and he takes my hand, leading me out of the back seat. The more time goes on, the faster the wheels spin in my head. What war with the Irish? They’ve been quiet since. Why did Ineedto do this? The La Rosa family name is enough for people to fear. We didn’t need to join alliances with the damn Bratva. I understand why as far as money, power, greed, but as an army? What if the Bratva decide to fucking kill me instead, or better yet, abuse me the entire time of my marriage? I don’t have anything to hold my safety. Nothing but trust in Papa.
Which I have.
The conference room at our hotel is dressed up in floral arrangements that release redolence that makes my nose pinch. I hate it, but I also don’t care.
Papa’s hand rests on my lower back as he leans into my ear. “You happy, principessa?”
I smile against him, patting his withered hand. “Sure.” I feel his energy before I see him. Like a flame raging more ardently as seconds pass by.
He brushes past me as he heads out of the emergency exit. Maybe something is wrong. Betty and Wolf are at the clubhouse.Before I can stop myself, I excuse myself from the conversation and Papa glares at me as I make my way through the same door Wicked went. I hadn’t even set foot out the door when he pulls me out.
“What is it?” I ask, searching his eyes. “Is something wrong?” He slams the door closed behind me, the muscles in his arms rippling.
“Wicked!” I shift around and push the locked door. “You did that on purpose. Why? Why do you fucking do this and make it harder on both of us?”
Our bodies brush against each other when his hand falls from the door. “You’re making this worse than it needs to be.”
He brings his finger to the side of my head, running it down to my lips. My skin prickles. “Nah, but I’m about to.” He slides his thumb between my lips, and I don’t know if it’s from the stress happening around me or the utter feral hold that our bond has on both of us, but my hips grind forward. His thumb disappears, related by his lips as he pulls my dress up and grips me around my thighs, slamming me against the door. Gripping on to the lace garter around my thigh, he tears it off. My legs wrap around his waist as I feed him everything he’s ever wanted.
“You wanted this,” I whisper against his mouth, sinking my teeth into his pout every few seconds. “To fuck me in my wedding dress knowing I was marrying him.” He grips my throat and forces me back against the door. Pain erupts against the back of my head, but I suck the taste of him off my lips anyway. Wicked is toxic for my soul, but the thing about toxicity is it’s addictive. He will always take care of us. Yet even then, I want to scream at him. Ask him why he would kill my mother? Because I fucking know he did, and as the saying goes—my throat constricts around the realization of what I need to do.Just one last time. One last time before my knife finds his heart.
I fight with his zipper and belt, moaning when his heavy cock fills my hands. Smooth and hard, I pump it slowly, watching the torment in his eyes. A battle I probably don’t understand—one I won’t understand because he never wanted me as a soldier. Now we would pay. One of us isn’t walking away from here alive.
“You can marry whoever the fuck you want, Ruby.” His hips buck forward. “You’re always going to be mine.” His grip around my throat intensifies, his eyes wild on mine. “Say you’re mine.”
I don’t answer, my tongue sliding over my bottom lip.Even in death, lover.
“Say it, Ruby.” He forces my head back again and a moan slips from my mouth as my pussy tightens. I don’t answer, unable to feed him lies. “You may be his wife, but you’ll always be my little slut.” I breathe out loudly, my forehead falling forward as my clit tingles with need. I need to be fucked. By him. Only him. Only ever will be him.
He raises his blade up, running the edge over my skin. I relax against him, fighting tears from falling down my cheeks as I slowly grind. Needing friction. Needing to be owned, dominated, and damaged by him.
He spits in his hand and brings it to my bare pussy, and shivers rack my body. Yes. Just what I wanted. Needed. My hips buck forward like a greedy bitch, and he directs my hips over his thick cock. I yelp when he slams my weight down onto him, sinking my teeth into his smooth cheek.
“Wicked…” His tongue slides over the incision on the side of my neck, sucking up every drop as he rides into me so hard my body bounces back and forward. He continues to pound into me until I clench around him, unwilling to let go.Let him go.Slowly, my fingers find his and I wrap them around the base of the knife as tears prick the corners of my eyes. His fingers tighten around the base, but even if he did, he would think it would just be my turn.
He pulls away and I lose my fingers in his hair. Sweat falling down my skin, glistening against the full moon that beams behind him. My wedding dress puffs around us both, blood dripping down from my neck and onto my bodice.
Our eyes collide, and for a moment, I don’t want this to end.
“You don’t fucking matter.” The words leave his mouth like a melody written just for me. He continues with his dirty, degrading talk and every single word pushes me closer to the edge.
“This how he fucks you, huh?” He pulls back just enough to search my eyes. Shit. No. He hasn’t fucking touched me. “Show me how he fucks you so I can destroy it.”
My cum drips from between my thighs. “Please…”
“No,” he snaps, his finger digging into the incision on my neck. All train of thought is lost. All of my plans to kill the one person who I’ve trusted immensely. Loved unconditionally. I squeeze him around his neck as I think of driving a knife into his skin, watching blood spill out of the cut. I explode around his cock, my orgasm ripping through me like a tidal wave of deceit. He pulls out and lowers me to the floor, finishing on my wedding dress.
“Was that my wedding gift?” I ask him softly, adjusting my dress, even though it’s ruined. I don’t know how I’m going to explain any of it, the cum included.
Pop! Pop! Pop!Gunshots fire off inside and my blood turns cold. My eyes find his.
“No.” His mouth curves in an evil smirk. “That is.”
I shove him in the chest, turning to yank the door open, but it doesn’t work.
