AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My cock twitches despite myself, and I take a bracing gulp of the cognac. I don’t know whether I want my arousal to be difficult, or not. The quicker I can find it within myself to desire her, the faster this can all be over—but even that twitch has caused a knot of guilt to settle in my stomach, threatening to grow with every moment that I try to distance my thoughts from the naked woman in the adjoining bathroom.
It feels both like an eternity, and all too soon when I hear the click of the door. Gia steps out, wrapped in one of the thick hotel robes, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. Her cheeks are slightly flushed from the heat of the bath, and she stops when she sees me sitting on the couch, her expression instantly turning wary.
“Someone brought your things up.” I nod to the quilted travel bag sitting next to the wardrobe. “Everything you might need should be in there.”
“Including the husband I was meant to marry?” Gia asks tartly, and I feel my jaw tighten.
“Do you want a drink?” I ask her, hoping to change the subject, and she presses her lips together.
“How was your business?” she asks instead, every word barbed. “Did your time away from me help? Did you have a chance to think about how you’re going to manage to please your pretty young bride? I have expectations, you know.”
Her voice is high, arched, full of petulance, but I can hear the nerves underneath it. She claimed to have been looking forward to her wedding night, but I’ve never heard of a virgin mafia bride who wasn’t terrified of the act. Her father allowed her some liberties with Pyotr—let them court and visit at home—but I can’t imagine she’s all that well-versed in what’s meant to happen tonight. No decent mafia daughter would be.
I take a slow breath, ignoring her question as I sip my drink. Gia stands there for a moment, clearly at a loss as to what to do, and then crosses the room towards her bag. She’s about to unzip it when I stop her, forcing myself to speak up.
“We can get this over with now, or later, Gia. Whichever you prefer.”
She straightens, her hand going to clutch the front of her robe. “You tell me,” she says flatly. “After all, you’re the one who forced me to marry you.”
“You understand what needs to happen tonight, don’t you?” I stand up, going to refill my glass. I’ll need at least one more drink, if I’m going to get through this. “I’m asking your preference, Gia. Pyotr wouldn’t have given you as much.”
It was the wrong thing to say, and I knew it before it came out of my mouth. I’ve never been one to lose control of my tongue, but the tension in the room has me on edge as much as Gia, making it hard to remain calm.
“You don’t know anything about Pyotr.” Gia’s shoulders tense, and she wraps her arms around herself. “We talked about tonight. We?—”
I don’t want to hear about what lewd things Pyotr might have whispered in her ear. “Do you want a drink, Gia?” I ask again, and she bites her lip, looking at me with a sudden uncertainty flickering in her face.
“Yes,” she says finally, and I can hear a little more of the nervousness slipping through.
“Wine, or liquor?” The bar is well-stocked with the latter, and I wait for her answer. She hesitates for a moment more.
“Wine,” she says finally, letting out a breath. “I don’t know what kind of liquor I would enjoy.”
“I’ll order up a bottle, then. A good one.”
Gia says nothing as I call for a bottle of wine, still hovering near the wardrobe. She seems unwilling to come and sit down, so I sit instead, watching her from across the room.
“We don’t need to be enemies, Gia,” I say slowly, trying to think of how to diffuse the tension. “We’ve been on good terms all your life. I care for you. I always have. I’ve only done this to?—”
“If you say ‘to protect you’ again, I’ll scream.” Gia’s lips press together, and she glares at me. “You’re doing this for your own ends. Your own desires. I don’t want to hear about how it’s for my own good.”
“What can I say to convince you that I’m telling the truth?” I take another sip of my drink, hoping she’ll answer me, and not just bite back with another attempted jab. Our marriage can’t be one of contention and strife for all of it. And I would rather it not begin that way at all.
“There’s nothing.” Gia turns her face away, her arms tightening around herself. A moment later, there’s a knock at the door, and she goes to open it, clearly eager for that drink she was promised.
I watch her as she opens the bottle before I can even offer to help, pouring herself a glass. She moves stiffly, every inch of her body strung taut, and I question whether this has to be done tonight. Surely, I could give it time—give her a chance to become accustomed to the idea of the marriage…and myself time to come around to the idea of desiring her.
No. It has to be done tonight. Tomorrow, I need to have proof of the consummation to send to Igor, evidence that there is no point in him trying to take back his son’s bride. Without that, Gia remains vulnerable, still a potential match for the Bratva heir, their marriage embattled but not entirely impossible.
Once she is mine—in every way—they won’t be able to touch her. Not like that. And whatever violence comes of it, that will be a different matter for me to settle.
I’ll make it quick, I tell myself as I polish off the remainder of my cognac and stand, setting the glass aside. Brief, for us both. It will be about duty, and not lust. I’ll imagine what I need to in order to be aroused, and I’ll find enough pleasure in it to finish. I’ll hope that tonight will give us an heir without any further need to fuck her again. It will be done, and from there, I’ll decide how our marriage will be managed. If I need to find pleasure outside of the marriage from time to time, it’s not unusual for a mafia husband to do so—though I don’t relish the thought of being unfaithful. But I’ve never been a man with such strong lust that I can’t make it a rare occasion?—
“What are you thinking about?” Gia’s voice cuts through my thoughts, sharp and curious. “Trying to get up the nerve to touch me? Or maybe just get it up?” She sets her glass aside, her chin tilted up defiantly, her lip curling as she glares at me. “Here. I’ll make it easy for you. Since you were so intent on stealing what wasn’t meant to belong to you.”
Before I can fully register what she’s saying, she undoes the belt of her robe, and lets it drop to the floor.
She’s naked underneath. Completely, entirely bare. Deep down, I know I should look away, that I shouldn’t take pleasure in devouring the sight in front of me. But she’s utter perfection. Glossy, thick dark hair tumbling around her shoulders, a full-lipped, rosy mouth, round, high breasts that would fit perfectly in my hands. Her waist nips in softly, her hips a perfect slender curve, her legs long and smooth. Her skin is pale, flushed ever so slightly, and I feel a ripple of lust go through me at the sight of the soft brown curls between her thighs, hiding what I know would taste as sweet as honey.
