DRAMA NOVEL ONLINE Unholy Vows: Chapter 11
Charlotte stood mute with shock. She got into the car like a good little girl. I’d expect nothing less since I had her sister sleeping peacefully on the backseat. Charlotte had already proven she’d do anything to keep that girl alive, and soon, anything would mean becoming my wife.
I was really warming to the idea now. Once it had taken root inside me, I couldn’t imagine a better solution to my heir problem.
“Where are you taking us?” Charlotte asked, huddled in the backseat as far away from me as she could get. She gripped her St. Anthony’s medallion like it was a sacred object capable of keeping me away; like I was a vampire from a teen movie.
“Home. Where else?”
She stared at me. “You don’t really want to do this. There has to be another option.”
“Even if there was, I chose this one. I’m the man who gets what he wants, or takes it – remember, bambina?”
She chewed her lip with sharp teeth, her mind furiously roving over possible objections and discarding them. She finally seized on one, a light of futile hope burning in her eyes. “But you’re mafia royalty. You should be marrying some woman who will bring you connections or more power – something like that, right?”
“I don’t need a wife to bring me connections or power. I make my own money and forge my own alliances,” I replied smoothly.
Charlotte’s hands were bunched into fists on her lap, her impulsive temper simmering under her calm façade. “I don’t understand…” she started, her tone a stitch away from a demand.
“You don’t have to understand. You don’t have to agree. It changes nothing,” I told her, waiting for that lid to blow.
“You want me to marry you?” she asked in a disbelieving tone.
“And carry my heirs. Yes.”
She snorted. “Like I’d ever have kids with you.”
“I’m afraid marriage and kids is a package deal. You can’t have one without the other.”
She glared at me. “Right, and I’m choosing between what? Living long enough to pop out your tiny dictators or dying right now?”
I inclined my head, letting her draw her own conclusions. Her frustration turned to fury, and and I knew she was about to attack me, just like she’d attacked Elio the night we met.
The moment her self-control snapped and she lunged for me, I was ready for her. The veil of compliance and politeness fell, and just as she opened her mouth to unleash her impotent rage, I reached out and tugged her into my lap.
She gave a grunt of surprise as she landed on my knee, her plump ass fitting perfectly against my thighs. One arm banded around her waist, keeping her put, and I pressed my other hand against her smart, obstinate mouth, sealing her accusations inside.
She attempted to struggle for a moment, but there was barely an inch of give in my hold. Her fingers scrabbled at my hand, attempting to dislodge it from her mouth, but her short, trimmed nails were useless against my gloves.
“Shh, anima mia, there’s no point in struggling,” I told her.
Her firm ass was pushing against my dick, and I’d been hard since the moment I’d decided this woman would be my wife. The very idea of it sent blood surging to my cock. And the thought of getting her pregnant? It was the biggest turn-on of my life. It was unusual to discover a new kink at my age, especially when I’d seen and done so much. And yet, the idea of this woman, and her alone, swollen with my heir – it was already my new favorite fantasy.
“It’s not going to do anything for you but get me off,” I added.
She stilled, her heaving chest pressing my arm, her short nails digging into my sleeve. Her breath blew in hot pants as I flexed my hips against her, rubbing my stiff cock on the curve of her ass. She stiffened with shock at the visceral proof of my need.
“That’s right, Miss Burke. I like it when you struggle. I like it when you argue with me and challenge me. I like you fighting me with all that glorious, fiery righteousness, and then sinking into my hands like butter when you surrender.” I pressed my middle finger, still encased in the glove, between her lips, until she had no choice but to open.
My leather-wrapped finger sank inside her mouth, and her teeth tested the thickness of the leather. I chuckled. “If you think biting me will prevent me putting anything else in your mouth, you’re wrong,” I muttered.
She froze for a moment and then wiggled again, trying to squirm away from me. I held her tightly, my finger resting on her tongue, until she calmed again.
“You should know, since I don’t plan on keeping secrets from my wife, that this is barely about Lucy anymore or what you saw.”
Gently, I slid my finger out of her mouth and then plunged it back in, slowly fucking her mouth with my digit.
“Now, it’s about us. Something about me you’ll come to learn: I always keep my word. Always. I don’t like to repeat myself, and once I decide on something I want, I don’t stop until I get it. What this means for you is that from this moment on, you’re mine… permanently. You’ll be my wife and the mother of my children. Nothing, and no one, can save you from that fate. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can get used to your new life. Be grateful that you get to live one.”
She was growing tired of fighting me, her weight sinking deeper onto my thighs, my cock aching to a painful degree. I wanted to thrust up against her innocent ass until I came like a teen dry humping his girlfriend over the back of a pew after Sunday school. But I wasn’t a kid anymore. I was a man. I had control over my urges. For now, at least.
Instead, I wrapped my arms tighter around my wife-to-be and rocked her. She was so tense, taut as an overstretched violin string. I was calm. Peaceful, almost, having charted a course for the future that solved my ongoing heir problem – and for once, I was on a course that actually excited me. I was also holding the object of my obsession in my arms. Was I already obsessed with this woman? Yes, undoubtedly so. I’d been obsessed since the moment I saw her.
“So, what will it be, bambina? Death, or me and my demon spawn?”
She was quiet for so long that I suspected she was actually considering both options equally. Then she turned her head toward me, and I released her mouth from my grip.
“I choose you,” she whispered. “I want us to live, so I choose you.”
“Good girl,” I muttered, and before she could ruin the sweet moment of her surrender, slipped my finger back between her lips and held her firmly.
It was barely noticeable at first, but the fight ebbed from Charlotte. She liked being constrained so tightly; I could tell by the way she grew increasingly boneless. She liked being rocked. She had to be exhausted. Burned out from fear and lack of sleep. If I counted up the hours I knew she’d worked in the past three days, she was already approaching superhuman status to be awake at all. Anyone else would be passed out by now, but Charlotte was willfully holding on to consciousness through sheer tenacity. My soon-to-be wife had grit. And it was hot as hell.
I rocked her a little more as she leaned into me. Her tongue brushed over my finger, and I slipped another between her parted lips. This time, she barely fought me. I was developing quite the fascination with putting things in this woman’s mouth. She was getting calmer, sleep crowding in on her now that she’d been caught and restrained. The inevitability of it all washed over both of us.
Her mouth fastened more tightly around my fingers. Tentatively, her tongue moved over the leather, and she sucked. She probably wasn’t aware that she was sucking my gloved fingers like a pacifier. A shrink would have a field day with that unconscious movement. But Charlotte no longer had to worry what anyone else would think. Fear of judgment was a thing of the past for her. The only opinion she’d need to worry about was mine.
I gathered her against me, keeping my fingers in her mouth to comfort her, and let her sleep. The smell of her cheap shampoo filled my senses. She was pushed to a brittle point, underfed, overworked, living in a tiny shoebox, and subsisting on shitty processed foods. Not anymore. I would change all of that for her. As my wife, she would live in the kind of luxury most people could only dream of.
If she was a good girl who learned to thrive within the limits of her freedom as my wife, then we’d get along just fine. If not? Then I’d teach her. And I’d enjoy every sinful moment.