Page 63 of Punishing His Runaway Bride
"You're my wife," he said.
"Yeah."
"So you're not—"
"What am I?" I sat up, faced him. "Ezio, what? Bought with a contract? The woman the elders forced you to marry? Or the one you let Bianca move in to 'teach'—"
He kissed me hard.
Not like before—forceful, loaded with pent-up shit. My back hit the bed, his weight crushed down. I pushed his shoulder—didn't budge. His hand clamped my chin, pinned me.
My nails dug into his sleeve.
He lifted his head, eyes close. "Don't push me."
I looked at him, heart splitting with pain.
"Push you how?" I said. "Push you to admit I'm a tool? That you only want her? Push you—"
He didn't let me finish.
He dove down.
Fabric ripped loud in the quiet room. His hands pressed on me, body slamming down, breath hot on my face.
His grip tightened on my wrists, yanking them above my head. I twisted, but he was stronger, fueled by that raw anger boiling over. "You think you can just lie there like a fucking corpse?" he growled, voice thick with booze and fury. He grabbed his tie from the floor, looped it around my wrists in a quick, rough knot, tying them to the headboard. The silk bit into my skin, not enough to cut, but tight enough to remind me who was in control.
I yanked against it, heart pounding. "Let me go, you bastard!"
He smirked, dark and dangerous, eyes gleaming in the dim light. "No. You've been pushing me for months. Ignoring me. Acting like I don't exist." His hand slid down, shoving my nightgown up, exposing me. Cool air hit my skin, but his touch burned. "Time you remember who's in charge."
I kicked out, but he pinned my legs with his knees, weight trapping me. His palm cracked down on my ass—sharp, stinging. I yelped, the pain flashing hot, mixing with something twisted inside. "Ezio, stop—"
Another smack, harder. My skin burned, cheeks flushing from theimpact. "That's for every time you looked away." Smack. "For every silent treatment." Smack. The rhythm built, each one sending jolts through me, my body betraying me even as I fought.
I'd gone six months without this—without him, without anyone. No touch, no release. My core clenched, traitorous heat building despite the anger. I hated it, hated how my thighs trembled, how wetness started pooling between my legs.
He noticed. Of course he did. His fingers dipped down, sliding through the slickness. "Look at that," he murmured, voice rough, pulling his hand back, glistening. "All this? It's you. Dripping for me, even when you fight."
"Fuck you," I spat, but my voice cracked, body arching against my will as he teased, circling my clit with expert pressure. His thumb pressed in, slow circles that made stars burst behind my eyes. I bit my lip, trying to hold back the moan, but it slipped out, low and desperate.
He chuckled darkly, bringing his fingers to my lips. "Taste yourself. See how much you want this."
I turned my head, but he gripped my jaw, forcing them in. Saltiness hit my tongue, humiliating, intimate. Tears pricked my eyes, spilling over as the reality crashed—me, tied up, him punishing me like this.
The tears came harder, sobs shaking me. His face changed—panic flickered in those green eyes. "Olivia..." He untied the knot fast, hands gentle now, pulling me up. "Shit, I didn't mean—"
I slapped him. Hard. Palm cracking across his cheek, the sound echoing. "You fucking asshole! You think you can just tie me up, hit me, treat me like your toy? After everything? After taking my kid, letting her in here?"
He touched his face, stunned, eyes wide with hurt. For a second, guilt flashed—yeah, he looked sorry, almost tender. But then anger flared back, hotter. "You hit me?" He grabbed my hips, flipping me onto my stomach, yanking me back against him. "Fine. You wanna fight? Let's fight."
His cock pressed against me, hard and insistent. No prep, just rawneed. He thrust in deep—one brutal push that filled me completely, stretching me to the limit. I gasped, cursing. "You son of a bitch—get off—"
But he didn't. He pulled back, slammed in again, deeper, hitting spots that made my vision blur. "Shut up and take it," he growled, hand fisting my hair, pulling my head back. Each thrust pounded harder, relentless, his hips slapping against my ass, the earlier smacks leaving me sensitive, every movement amplifying the mix of pain and pleasure.
I cursed him, words spilling out— "I hate you, you bastard, you ruined everything—" but my body betrayed me again, clenching around him, wetness coating us both. He drove deeper, angling to hit that sweet spot over and over, building that coil tight inside me.
"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, pace quickening, one hand reaching around to rub my clit in fast circles. "Come for me, Olivia. Admit you need this."
