CHAPTER 46
ALEXIA GREEN.
“Vicious?”
My voice comes out like a pant, a plea for help but that seems to agitate him as his hold on my wrist tightens and as he pulls me up to his own version of hell.
I’ve never been to his room.
If I knew faking being hurt would have riled him up, I would have done it sooner.
Anything just to get another kiss because that’s how much power this man has.
And yesterday when the wet heat that had surrounded us eviscerated into thin air and he told me to go to sleep?
Dear Lord, I couldn’t just go to sleep.
Not without imagining that mouth again on a different part of my body, not without imagining him maddeningly kissing me and ramming into me the way that kiss felt.
And the kiss felt like being pounded by a freight train.
One of the many reasons my hips buckled against the bed yesterday as I imagined Christian Vitello taking me all the way to Sunday.
A few stairs in and Millie’s cries sound downstairs.
She’s fed and I even pumped her another bottle to keep her happy and drowning in the bliss that’s milk but that doesn’t mean I don’t stop when I hear her crying.
My feet remain rooted as I gaze at his hard profoundly broad back.
Lord, of all men I had to be stuck with this one.
The man who screams Italian heritage just by his tattoos, his dark hair and those swirling dark-brown eyes.
“I have to get her. Something might be wrong.”
“She’s fine.”
“She’s crying.”
“No, that’s her telling me she fucking hates Jude and she wants me to hold her and I will hold her. Straight after I teach her mother some few lessons about not fucking my brain up.”
I want to say I did what he instructed but the thunder in his eyes cautions me not to.
Instead, I blurb, “Will you hold me too after you’ve inflicted your punishment?”
I try smiling.
But he scowls more leveling me with a, “No.”
His eyes savagely threaten me to move.
Move away from him.
Move with him.
He’s angry, I know.
Rhett was a storm when he was angry. A bad storm to me.
But Rhett isn’t Christian. Putting them in the same sentence feels like a crime that risks jail time.
Rhett is a man trying to play cynicism while Christian?
Yeah, this man basks in cynicism like he was born to it, like he grabbed that part of evil by the horns and made it obey him. Made it be him.
With that in mind, I don’t know what takes charge, my heart, my mind or the information that does so little to make me abhor this man.
I start walking.
He doesn’t acknowledge the feat because as soon as we start walking, so do his legs take two stairs at a time and I struggle to keep up behind him while being choked by his scent, by the clothes on me that smell like him and by the anticipation and fear of his punishment.
Standing outside his bedroom door feels like I’ve conquered four stages of hell and the fifth stage is awaiting me.
He kicks it open, locking it behind us.
I take in the room, it’s as dark as him maybe even darker than he is.
Other than that, it has no life and oddly enough it screams of him.
It reeks of him in an all-tormenting manner.
He lets go of my wrist and I miss his warmth around it.
Seating on the edge of the bed, eyes locked in on me like I’m the main show, his eyes roam over my clothes and the words rumble out of his mouth without patience.
“I want my clothes back, Alexia.”
Alexia.
Not little nurse. Not sunshine, but Alexia.
“Juana took my clothes together with the laundry, I don’t have any clothes to wear.”
My complaints don’t even remit a bit of pity from him.
He sits there on a throne he’s built, executing me with a glare.
I guess this was the punishment.
He likes it when I strip, that’s his kink and maybe it’s starting to be more of my kink too.
I reach for the hem of his shirt, taking it off when I very well know that underneath I have no bra.
I took it off as soon as I breastfed Millie and took a bath.
The minute my shirt is off, the cold morning breeze of Chicago hits me with vengeance and I shiver throwing his shirt somewhere in the room.
If I thought his eyes were stormy before, right now they are a whole different shade of color.
I reach for his sweatpants. The ones I had to roll around my waist like three times to make sure they fit and underneath I have lacy panties.
The same extra pair of lacy panties that Bree told me to sneak in my purse for our night’s out.
The sweatpants pool around my ankles and I kick them out of the way shivering as I do so.
I wait for his words as I stand only in my underwear and a lot of insecurities backing me up.
He’s seen me naked before.
But last time he was under the guise I betrayed him for Demetri, technically I did but still.
I might have been naked that time but he didn’t pay attention to my body that much.
Right now, I start to ask myself whether my stretch marks from my pregnancy with Millie can be seen, whether my…
He finally speaks, “Come here.”
I take a deep breath and approach him on shaky legs.
What on earth does he have in mind? He pats his knee, and my eyes dart between his face and his muscular thighs, spread out as if he wants me to lie on top of them.
“You are…you are going to spank me?”
Surprise prickles my throat and I blink twice.
“Can’t think of a better punishment.”
I have never been spanked.
My legs teeter on the edge of walking to him or stopping.
“I’m not asking again, Sunshine.”
Trembling, eating away the distance between us, I stand in front of him and do as he says by positioning myself over his lap, my elbows resting on the bed and my ass in the air.
It doesn’t take seconds before Christian rubs his rough hand over the expanse of my ass, his cold like a brand of cold iron searing itself in my skin.
I hold back a moan.
“Such a beautiful ass”, he says, all content and happy to have it to himself, before his hand lands on my skin lightly and I let out a yelp from the pain.
“That’s barely the warmup, Sunshine”, he growls before he adds, “The real spanking starts when this ass is bare and the lace is off.”
Oh God.
Another light slap and my fists dig into the sheets of his bed.
His bed. His room. Him controlling everything and I copiously relinquish that control.
He spanks me harder this time and I cry out in agony. The feeling unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
When I writhe, I hear his dark chuckle slitting every nerve in me and mending it again.
“All warmed up then.”
He voices.
It takes point something seconds to hear the lace being torn off of me.
Another point something seconds to feel his hands gently skimming through my ass, going over the stretch marks on my hips and still tenderly rubbing against the feel of it.
Meanwhile every action he does has me suffocating for breath, I throb, I ache, I need him.
“You are going to have to count Little Nurse. Every slap, every sensation, I want you counting. You got that?”
No. Yes.
“Mmmhmm”, I whimper.
His hands are one step shy away from touching the bane of my desire. The one that started to throb as soon as the first slap came.
“This works with words, Sunshine. I’m pissed off but I’m not slapping this ass red if you don’t give me consent.”
No.
Don’t do that.
Don’t ask for consent.
Take it, just like…just take it like the ruthless man you are.
Otherwise, you asking for it, makes my heart somersault and it shouldn’t.
It shouldn’t somersault even when you think that holding my daughter is the most precious thing. It shouldn’t somersault even when you stop things from going further when you’ve got a boner like last night.
“Yes”, I whisper holding back tears for this man.
No restraint, no mercy, his hand lands on my ass hard.
So hard I tremble against him.
So hard, I feel it all the way up my spine.
“O-One”, I groan.
Then another.
Punishing, changing that pain into pleasure with every hit, every breath I waste by counting when I should be moaning and begging for him inside me.
Because I feel the punishment alright and its pain.
Pure delicious pain that has my ass on fire and my pussy leaking like a broken faucet.
The burning sensation not only churns my throbbing clit but it churns my brain leaving me a breathless hot mess with my thighs slickly coated with my wetness.
Unexpected tears prick my eyes and I try to get away as soon as we hit the ten-count mark.
He doesn’t let me get away though, damn him.
He turns me around, my ass sitting on his lap, me and him face to face.
“Don’t cry.”
“It hurts.”
“It’s punishment, it’s supposed to hurt.”
The way he says it, the way his hand sneaks between us as he gropes a handful of my ass running his fingers along it, soothing the burn with his cold touch.
“It was too much.”
“That the first time you got spanked?”
“Yes”, I admit.
“Good, if Rhett did this to you too, I was gonna do more than clip his nails off his toes.”
“I want to get off now.”
“No.”
“You already did your punishment and I got it, okay?”
“No, if you are still sassing back, you didn’t get it, tesoro. This hurts the same way it stings seeing you on that cold grass not knowing whether you passed out or not.
You got shot once in my presence; you are not getting hurt again unless it’s me doing the hurting.
Plus, feel that,” He skims through my wet folds and I hold onto his shoulders, “That’s you pussy telling me it likes spanking way more than it likes my mouth on it.”
“Christian-.”
“Relish the pain, milk it into pleasure.”
“Okay”, my head spins around his fingers like creeping veins meeting wall for the first time.
I grind myself against the feel of his fingers and by the time he pushes one of his fingers hitting that spot that only he knows the location to, I sink in his neck and I bite him.
I bite him for the pain.
I bite him for the heady pleasure.
In return, another one of his fingers fills me whole stretching me to the max, pushing in and out of me till they curl inside me, rubbing my hilt, robbing from me my breath and my climax that has my toes curling.
I struggle for breath; I lick his neck like a cat in heat that wants more. Because now, I want so much more.
“Clean yourself up, Alexia.”
I lick my desire of his fingers, grinding against his hard crotch, my eyes on him, the connection between us like a tight rubber band.
The worst thing is, I fear this mafia don has no clue how many fireworks he is igniting in my heart.
xxxx
Mafia Don: Sent dresses for you at home. Wear any of them. Date after I’m done working.
Me: Do you always text like a forty-year-old secretary of some billionaire tycoon? Can’t wear the dresses, I’m still at work.
Can’t go on a date right now either.
Mafia Don: Already a billionaire tycoon, Tesoro. What time do you get off work?
I grin.
He started calling me ‘tesoro’ since a few days ago. The day where he left me unsatisfied and so needy I ended up jerking off in his sheets as retaliation.
Me: I don’t know. Your men are pretty banged up so Xavier and I have a lot to do at the moment.
Brenda took Millie home. Wes is out of town because his mother is sick and Layla well Layla slacks off most of the time so it’s me and Xavier.
Mafia Don: I’m coming over.
Me: You are done working already?
Mafia Don: No.
His texts stop after that.
In the next half an hour, Xavier works on stitching, I work on removing the occasional bullets and shards of glass that Vicious’ men come with every day.
By the time we are done, I practically want to hug Xavier when he brings me a cup of Greek yogurt in my office.
“Listen about that night at the club, Layla got out of hand with the truth or dare game. I wanted to apologize seeing as to how I didn’t get the chance to do so that night. I understand why you left–.”
“God, no. No. I didn’t leave because of you. I mean because of the game. I-uh-wasn’t feeling so great that night and I didn’t want to interrupt your night.”
His face lights up and I kind of feel guilty for lying.
He rubs the back of his neck like an awkward teenager as we both take a sip of our Greek yogurt sitting on my desk.
“Good, great, would you maybe want to go out sometime? Some place else other than the clinic? For food of course, instead of yogurt.”
My voice never leaves my mouth.
Thunder in the form of a pissed-off Christian Volkov stands in the doorway of my office.
“I’m afraid she can’t, Peter Pan. She’s otherwise busy with her man.”
“Christian?”
I stand up and place my cup of yogurt on my desk before walking to him with a perplexed look.
“I didn’t think you would actually show up.”
“I said I was coming over, Tesoro. I meant it. Gimme a kiss.”
“What?”
His lips clash with mine, his hand gropes my ass and I fall victim to his kiss without remembering that Xavier is right behind us and he might be witnessing everything.
Wait a minute, is Christian…is this bastard marking his territory?