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Salvatore’s eyes flick open. For a moment, he doesn’t react, the only response is his cock twitching against my palm, pushing forward eagerly at my touch. And then he seems to come fully awake, pulling away from me as the hand beneath my breast slides down and grips my waist to keep me from coming closer.
“Enough, Gia,” he growls, his voice still rusty with sleep, and sits up near the opposite side of the bed.
My frustration is immediate. “You’re really going to keep doing this? Even when I act like I want it?”
Salvatore narrows his eyes at me. “I’m figuring you out more quickly than I think you would like, Gia. For instance, I know exactly what you’re doing.”
“What’s that?” I cross my arms under my chest, and I see his eyes flick to my breasts for a split second before they return to my face. He shakes his head, getting up.
“I’m not arguing with you five minutes after I wake up. Not even that, for god’s sake.” Salvatore runs a hand through his hair. “I’m going to take a shower.”
I clench my teeth, watching him walk to the bathroom. His cock is pushing against the front of his button fly, and I catch a glimpse of the thick shaft through the gap in the fabric. He’s huge, and I feel a momentary flicker of fear, but not enough to stop.
If he’s going to insist on being my husband, then he’s going to act like my fucking husband. I seethe for just a moment, watching as Salvatore disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the hot spray of the shower, before I fling back the blankets and stalk after him.
I throw open the door, ready to continue our fight—and freeze in my tracks.
Salvatore’s black sleep pants are hitched down around his sharp hipbones, that deep cut of muscle mouthwateringly visible on either side of his thick, hard cock.
Which is currently in his hand, his fist sliding feverishly along it as he grips the counter with his other hand hard enough to turn his knuckles white.
It takes a moment for my anger to catch up. I’ve never seen this much of a man before. Salvatore didn’t take off more than his shirt on our wedding night. Didn’t take off so much as a stitch of clothing yesterday, while he made me watch him finger me. I stare at his cock for a moment, taking in the size of it, the vein throbbing along the top, the swollen head dripping pre-cum as he strokes. My mouth feels dry, that ache pulsing between my legs. I want him. I want him to fuck me, and he’s in here jerking off.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I snap, and Salvatore jerks backward like he’s been struck, letting go of his cock abruptly. It juts out between his thighs, and my curiosity is almost unbearable. I want to touch him. I want to taste him. I want to find out every forbidden thing that I’ve fantasized about for so long. “Why won’t you enjoy your wife? I was squirming up against you five minutes ago, but instead, you’re in here masturbating?” I can hear how angry I am in every word, and I can see in Salvatore’s face that he can, too.
His jaw is tight. He reaches down, yanking his pants up over his throbbing erection, and I can see the frustration in his eyes. His hand is damp with his arousal, and he glares at me. “Mafia marriages aren’t about desire,” he grinds out. “They’re about duty. I will get to my duty of fucking you and getting an heir when I’m good and damn well ready, Gia. And until then, I’ll handle my desire as I see fit. Leave.”
It’s an order. And I’ve never been very good at obeying those.
I cross my arms, glaring back at him. “Come back in the bedroom and fuck your wife, then.”
“No.” Salvatore’s teeth grind together. “Get out, Gia. You’ve been spoiled all your life by being given exactly what you wanted, and it would only have hurt you in the end. It’s long past time all that changes.”
“I’m not leaving.” I tip my chin up. “Fine. Go ahead and finish. I’ll watch.”
The muscle in Salvatore’s cheek ticks. “I want my privacy, wife.”
“Like you gave me mine yesterday?” I glare at him. “Should I make you come while you watch?” I take a step towards him, my gaze flicking back to his thick erection, and Salvatore closes the distance between us.
For a second, I think he’s going to give in. I have a vivid vision of him sitting me on the edge of the counter, bending me over it, pushing me up against the wall. None of those are particularly comfortable places to have sex for the first time, I imagine, but with adrenaline filling my veins, the strange eroticism of our fight thickening the air between us, I’m not sure I care.
But instead, he grabs me by the shoulders, and backs me out of the room. “You are my wife now,” he grinds out, his gaze dark with frustrated rage. “You will listen to me. You will obey me. And right now, I am telling you that you will leave me alone right now. You will get dressed, and go down to breakfast, and I will meet you downstairs. You will not argue with me. You will not continue to piss me off before I’ve even had my goddamn coffee, Gia!”
I feel myself starting to tremble, fear trickling through my veins, beginning to replace the desire. Cooling off the heat a little, though not all the way. I look up at him, refusing to show that fear.
“And what are you going to do?” I ask, sickly sweet, and Salvatore glares down at me.
“I’m going to shower. I’m going to jerk off while I do it. And you’re going to leave me be until I’m ready to deal with you again.”
“And if I follow you in there? What are you going to do about it?” I snip, and Salvatore shakes me hard, once.
“You don’t want to find out.”
His voice is cold and hard, and the fear is suddenly like ice, skittering down my spine. I suck in a breath, my eyes widening, and Salvatore seems to realize he’s gone too far.
He lets go of me, taking a step back. “Just leave me be for a little while, Gia,” he manages, his voice tight.
And then he turns sharply, disappearing back into the bathroom, the door locked behind him.
