The Marriage Debt (De Vos Mafia #2)(22)

“He never wanted any of this,” I retort. “And when he’s collected enough men and firepower, he’ll come save me and put a bullet in your head.”

He laughs out loud but stops halfway through, looking dead serious. “Your father disowned you.”

I push away that thought even though I know he’s right. Father must care about me, right? Even if only a little, I know he wouldn’t want this for his daughter. He only resorted to this last option because he had nothing else he could trade the De Vos family for the death of their son.

“You think you’re a mafia princess, but he happily gave you away to keep your sister safe,” he responds.

I point at my chest. “That was my choice.”

But as I attempt to push past him, he corners me between the window and the curtain, planting his hand against the glass. “Did I say you could leave?”

My hands twitch with rage. He can’t control me, not even if he tries.

His hand rises, and I expect a slap for my attempted murder and defiance, so I close my eyes.

But then the softest of caresses on my cheek makes me gasp for air. When I open my eyes again, he’s so close I can barely breathe. His hand snakes around my neck, my hair tumbling down my shoulders as he tilts my head back. He leans in, the scent of his intoxicating cologne penetrating my nostrils. As his nose and lips hover close to my skin, I whimper, and I hate what he does to me.

Why does my body respond this way to him?

I don’t understand. Why can’t I control myself?

“Oh, bunny …I think you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you.” The way he groans sets my body on fire.

His mouth puckers against my neck, and my breath hitches in my throat. The warmth of his lips against my cool skin is making me feel light-headed. In heat.

“And I can’t wait to fucking ravage you all over again,” he groans, smiling against my skin. “But first, you need to be—” Suddenly, he spins me on my heels so my back is turned to him, clutches my wrists, and pins them up against the windows along with my breasts. Everything is on full display.

“Punished.”

I shriek as he rips down the rest of the mermaid wedding dress that still clings to my body, tearing it to pieces. Pearls and sequins roll across the floor, but he pays no attention as he presses up against me. I’m half-naked in front of the window for all the world to see.

But everything stops mattering when his hard-on pokes me in the ass. The only fabric between us is my flimsy underwear and his pants.

“You’ve been bad, bunny, trying to throw a vase at my head? Not very classy,” he says.

“Says the guy who decided to marry out of spite,” I hiss.

SLAP!

The sudden slap to my ass makes an unwelcome moan leave my mouth.

“Did you forget you were the one who begged me to marry you instead?”

My nipples harden against the cold glass.

“I didn’t ask you to collar me like a dog,” I spit back.

Another smack has me fighting to stop the sounds from slipping out.

“And I didn’t ask to be threatened by my wife, but here we are,” he retorts, slapping me again. “Pets who misbehave deserve to be locked up.”

Another slap to my bum has my knees buckling underneath me. It’s impossible to stop the spankings from reverberating between my legs, one after the other until all I feel is the hot sting of his touch on my skin … until it’s impossible to separate pain from pleasure.

When he pauses, I breathe out a soft sigh.

“Now, are you ready to tell me the full truth of what you were doing in here?” he says.

I bite through the pain, ignoring him despite knowing the consequence is more…

SLAP! SLAP!

Sizzling, burning, exciting pain.

And I feel it everywhere … not just on my ass but in my pussy too, and I don’t know how to switch it off. It feels so wrong, so immoral that he’s doing this… but more because I’m fighting the arousal.

“Answer me, bunny,” he growls, raising his hand. “I can play this game all night long.”

“Yeah, I bet you enjoy hurting people,” I retort.

I know it’s a low blow, but what else do I have at this point? He’s already stolen my freedom, part of my innocence, and now my dignity too.

He grabs ahold of my ass, one hand still firmly on my wrists, pressing me down against the window. “Hurting people? Yes.” He slaps me again. “Hurting you?” A half-groan, half-laugh rolls from his tongue. “No. I’m just having fun.”

SLAP!

The last one is harder than the ones before, and a moan spills out of me.

He leans in to whisper, “And I think you are too.”

I’ll never admit how it makes me feel when he touches me. “Shut up,” I growl.

He snorts against my neck. “You have an awful lot of bite for a soft, innocent little girl.” His nose briefly pauses near my hair, and I hear him sniff. “But you smell like a fuckable little slut.”

I gulp and immediately worry he heard it. I hate what he does to me, how vulgar he is to me … like I’m nothing more than an average girl to him who he dragged home so he can lock up and throw away the key while using her for his every dirty fantasy.

Somehow, that thought makes my clit throb.