Page 21 of Sacred Vow

Romeo chuckled. “Watch your language, or you’ll be over my lap getting your ass tanned.”

“You can’t tan my ass for saying hell,” I said and crossed my arms.

“I can do whatever I want, Vittoria. You’re mine. And I will punish you when you warrant it. You should have figured that out by now.”

Hmph! Note to self: say whatever the hell I wanted when he wasn’t around. I suppressed a smirk. Defiance was second nature to me. I hadn’t given him a good dose of Bratty Vittoria because I’d been earning my way out of the bedroom and into the rest of the house. Now that I’d toured the grounds, counted the cameras, noted the guard rotations, and memorized the household layout, I could start making a plan.

“Yes, Sir.” I saluted and accepted his triumphant smirk with a smile of my own. For now, it served me better to let him think I was his obedient girl all the time, not just when we fucked, but my end goal hadn’t changed. Although there were aspects of my captivity that I enjoyed, and people I knew I’d miss, my best life was still waiting for me outside these walls and windows and I meant to find it.

I wondered how far he’d go to get me back. Would he do anything? Go anywhere? The intensity of his possessiveness would have been thrilling if it was really me he wanted so deeply. But to a Don like Romeo, I was simply a byline of a business transaction. He’d go after me the same way he’d reclaim an occupied port or stolen shipment, simply because he didn’t like anyone else playing with his toys, touching his goods or defying him in any way. I could use that against him by taking a page out of Niccolò Machiavelli’s book on warfare, or just reading Cosmopolitan. The magazine was as good as any tactical guide when it came to getting one over on a man.

Chapter Seven

Romeo

Revealing the secret passage from the office to our wing on the second floor had been a risk, but one I wanted to take. More than anything, I wanted to test out my bratty bride and discover her true motivations. I didn’t believe for one moment that I’d cowed her into obedience, despite the spankings she earned each night.

Earned. Enjoyed. Despite her protests, desire slicked the insides of her thighs every time I put her over my knee. A single slap to her slick cunt sent tremors through her body. Oh yes, she could protest all she wanted, but her body said something else entirely. Every orgasm tightened my hold on her.

When she banged on my office door, desperate for me to open it, I hesitated. Her please plucked at more than my desire to sink into her warmth. She called to me as a man, her man, and that was a first for me. Not just with her, but in my entire life.

Men like me survived by avoiding entanglements. My previous relationships, if they could even be called that, amounted to nothing more than satisfying immediate needs. It had always been safer that way. Even my grandfather, a family man who loved his wife, had satiated himself many times prior to and during his marriage, fearing too much affection for my grandmother would make her a target. I remember as a child, his mistresses being at gatherings, the rest of the family expected to socialize. If sharing her husband wounded my grandmother, she never let anyone see it.

This wasn’t an unusual phenomenon in our world and happened more commonly than not. Yet my father did not carry on the tradition, and I did not subscribe to many of the old traditions of the mafia men who had gone before. Whatever existed between us, I had no intention of taking mistresses while wearing her ring. Opening the door, and trying to hold the devil at bay, at least until I knew she was okay, was also a first for me. Our life, this lifestyle came with a high cost, and being the Don meant I put the empire before individuals. So far, I’d been lucky, and while hard on my brothers—some, like Gio, more than others—I hadn’t been dragged down that hole of having to choose our existence over any one of their lives.

And that was the crux of my issue with Vittoria. If I held her at bay, or rather, kept my heart wrapped up tight, maybe I could keep her without letting her become a weakness. We were compatible in many ways. She understood the necessity of preserving the family honor. Despite her wild history, when the time came, she had walked up that aisle to stand beside me, furious but composed enough to play her role in public. I knew that if things got ugly, she wouldn’t faint away, but fight at my side to defend the family in any way she could.

And in addition to the benefits of marrying a mob princess, there was our sex life. I had cracked her open and shown her how much she could enjoy my particular brand of dominance. Her body’s response to whatever I did, couldn’t have been better, which made it very clear to me that the sex kept her in line more than anything, although losing privileges was a close second. My princess hated losing privileges.

“Romeo! Please answer me!” she’d cried, yet still I held onto a semblance of control, letting her know that to enter the lion’s den meant she had no say in what went down.

My wife held me with a challenging gaze—“Words are cheap, Daddy. Show this girl some action.”

Her sass snapped the last thread of my restraint. Grabbing her, I slammed the door and pushed her into it.

Desperate to consume her, I shredded her shirt, and as the two pieces of silk white material floated to the floor, I became the darkness consuming her, drowning out and satiating my deviant bride until she couldn’t stand.

Her sweet nectar was overpowering, beckoning me closer—take me, I’m yours. I bound her wrists with her lacy bra. I wanted to bite and mark her breasts, but my cock was so hard I had to release it from the confines of my pants.

Vittoria gasped as I hauled her over my shoulder, but there was excitement beneath the sound. She wanted this as badly as I did. Clearing my desk with a vicious swipe, I placed her down—Mine!

Her hands bound in front of her, fingers clinging to the edge of the desk. She was ready. I smacked her ass, loving the sound of my hand connecting with her denim-clad ass. Sweet nectar assaulted my nostrils. I ripped her jeans down in one swoop, her panties with them. She was soaked!

With one mighty thrust, I sunk my cock deep inside of her. Vittoria’s walls quivered with the invasion, her slick pussy doing its best to accommodate my size.

“You like being Daddy’s dirty girl, don’t you, wife?”

She loved it when I talked dirty to her, and she didn’t disappoint; her walls spasmed around my cock. She was so close to a climax, but she wasn’t allowed, not just yet. With reluctance, I pulled out and spanked her ass. She yelped, but instead of pulling away, her thigh parted wider for me. It would be so easy now to just tip her over the edge…

“I can’t hear you, brat. Answer me or you will not be allowed to cum.”

“Yes. I love being your dirty girl!” She gasped, arching her hips, and presenting her ass in my direction.

“And you love my cock, don’t you, my little slut?”

“Yes!” she cried out.

I slammed between her wet swollen lips and she screamed, milking my cock with her muscles as a powerful orgasm overtook her. This wasn’t about pleasure anymore. It was about ownership. No, this was about showing her what it meant to taunt the darker aspect of my personality.