Unholy Vows: Chapter 22

Charlotte’s hand was cold in mine as I led her from the ballroom. The music and noise of celebration fell away as we made our way through the twisting labyrinth of Casa Nera.

There was no tiredness to my step. I’d been waiting for this moment all week.

Tonight, I’d fuck the woman I’d chosen to be my bride, the one strong enough to stand up to me and carry the De Sanctis legacy and heirs with grace. Charlotte wouldn’t crumble in the face of adversity. It just wasn’t in her character. She didn’t know when to quit. It was one of the many things I admired about her.

I took her hand when we got to the stairs, and we started upward. I reached down and grabbed a handful of her heavy skirts and lifted them for her, catching a glimpse of her thigh-high suspenders. My cock had already been hard the entire day, since the moment I’d walked into the penthouse suite where the bridal party was getting ready.

She’d been standing in the window, the winter sun blazing down on her, looking like something holy. I might never recover from the sight. She’d already worked under my skin like a splinter, and nothing would take her out. Not even discovering that she was spying on me.

I wanted her to tell me about the cops herself.

I wanted her to trust me.

If this woman could trust me, the sinner to her saint, then she would fully belong to me.

We got to the master suite. I hadn’t been sleeping there. It was a set of rooms that hadn’t been used for decades. They’d been my mother’s rooms. Elio had had them completely overhauled. I didn’t want to live with ghosts anymore.

Charlotte was nervous; I could see it in the slight hunch of her slim shoulders and the way she kept glancing at me through her lashes.

We walked into the room. I was pleased to see that Carmella had gotten it ready. Candles were lit, red rose petals scattered on the bed. I’d asked for four lengths of silk to be left at the bottom of the huge, four-poster bed, and I already spied them there.

Waiting for their captive.

Charlotte looked around with awe. She walked around the perimeter while I took off my tux jacket and hung it on the valet stand. At the sound of my cuff links hitting their mother-of-pearl tray, Charlotte paused her inspection of the room and looked at me. I tugged my silk bow tie off and tucked it into my jacket pocket. Her eyes scanned me, and her cheeks went pink.

What a delightful contradiction she was. At times as brave and ballsy as any of my men, and at others, a blushing ingénue. I never felt our age difference more than when her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were avoiding me. It made me want to corner her, take her on my knee, tilt her chin up, and pry her secrets out of her.

Secrets like hiding a bug in my office.

I took a long breath, pushing the fury I felt at Detectives Vane and Whitely from my mind. Charlotte was mine. Claimed, wed, and soon to be bred. How dare they interfere with my woman? I knew what they were thinking. Their small minds were pitifully easy to read. Charlotte was powerless, without influence or connections – exactly the kind of person they could lean on and suffer no consequences should she crack under the strain.

Well, now she had power, connections, and billions to her name. Let’s see them break her now, with me at her back.

“This room is so beautiful. I’ve never seen it before,” Charlotte babbled.

I knew this tactic. She was stalling. I reached for the buttons of my dress shirt. I undid them quickly, and my shirt joined the rest of my clothes.

“You talk a lot when you’re nervous, anima mia. Did you know that? It’s your tell.”

“I’m not much of a poker player.”

“Tells are useful in all sorts of games.” Like the game of chicken we played now, without her knowledge. She would continue to spy on me, and I would wait and see when she would stop, her guilt getting the better of her. The day she confessed to me would be the day I’d know she’d accepted her new reality. It would show that she trusted me more than the cops. That I’d worked under her skin just as much as she’d gotten under mine, and the playing field would be level again.

“Undress.”

She stopped in her tracks at my order and spun around. Her blush had spread across her décolletage, too. A heavenly rose color.

“I mean, I know we just got married, but you can’t think—”

“We’re not about to fuck because we just got married,” I interrupted her, approaching her slowly in case she bolted for the bathroom and locked me out. I’d just had this room renovated. Kicking in a door would be annoying.

“We’re about to fuck because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the taste of your cunt since yesterday. It’s mine now, and I won’t waste one more second without indulging in it.”

I reached for her dress, and she put her hands over mine. “Wait. This is all a lot,” she whispered. Her eyes rose to mine. “I think I’m freaking out.”

“You look completely calm to me.”

“Maybe I do have a poker face after all, then.” Her gaze landed on my chest.

It was the first time I’d been shirtless before her. She frowned at the tally marks tattooed in even rows across my heart.

She had to swallow twice before she could speak. “Are those the people you’ve—” she broke off, struggling. “I mean, is it your kill count?”

Her hand floated in the air over my skin, and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to feel her flesh against mine. I took her fingers and guided them to the marks, encouraging her to touch them.

“Not a kill count. A loss count,” I corrected her. “Every good De Sanctis man lost under my leadership is here.”

“The night we met you killed two of them yourself,” she reminded me.

“I said good De Sanctis men. Men with honor, who deserve the name. I carry them with me, so I never forget that my men’s lives are in my hands, and their families’, too.”

She swallowed hard. “And I thought it was hard being responsible for Lucy,” she joked.

“Being responsible for one, or one hundred, is the same. A burden and a gift.”

Her eyes lifted to mine. She shook her head, an incredulous smile playing on her beautiful lips. “You have no idea how often I’ve thought those words. I’ve never said them out loud, though. They go in the ‘secrets we take to our grave’ pile…for me, anyway.”

“You can tell me anything, Charlotte. Confess your secrets, and I’ll carry them. You’re my wife now.”

“On paper, right? I mean, how else?” she asked, her breathing coming harder as she spoke.

“I’ll show you how else.” I reached for her dress again, my hands going to the column of tiny buttons down the side. They were tedious as hell, but I was a patient man, and I had waited my entire life to a woman I wanted to marry. This woman. Nothing would make me rush now.

The tension was thick as I slowly undid the dress, giving Charlotte plenty of time to consider what was coming. My wife seemed to feel some sense of shame every time her body responded to my touch. She was embarrassed about how wet she got. Ashamed about the way her nipples begged to be sucked, and how she liked to be held down, helpless and out of control.

I planned to teach her to take pride in her pleasure. To demand it.

The dress sagged as soon as the last button was undone, and I pushed it off her shoulders. It pooled at her feet in a waterfall of chiffon, silk, lace and pearls.

She was wearing a corset-style undergarment, with garters that held up sheer stockings. It was all a creamy, virginal white.

I helped her step out of the dress and pulled her away from it to the huge mirror that sat opposite the bed.

Standing behind her, I wrapped her long hair around my fist, trapping her head in place and waiting until her eyes found mine in the reflection.

“What do you see?” I wondered, one hand in her hair, the other roaming over the front of her body.

My tanned, tattooed hand was a stark contrast against her white undergarments. Her attention fastened onto the back of my hand. I moved first to her neck, circling it with my palm. Her pulse beat steadily. She might be nervous, but she wasn’t afraid.

Charlotte knew no fear, unless it was asking for something for herself.

I pressed lightly, and her chin tilted up, instinctively giving me better access. Yes, my little nurse was perfect.

“What do you see, Charlotte?” I repeated.

I moved my hand downward now, heading for her breasts. The corset had a half-cup design, with an overlay of delicate, cobweb-fine lace. I could see her nipples through it. I closed my fingers around one and pinched it lightly.

Her lips parted, responsive as hell.

“Answer me,” I ordered her.

“Me and you,” she shot out. “I see me and you.”

“Hmm, is that right?” I only see her. Nothing can distract me from her.

“But who are you?”

“I’m your wife,” Charlotte muttered, arching her back subtly to move her nipples closer to my fingers.

Fuck, yes. I loved how that sounded.

“Hmm, yes, you are. My wife. All mine.”

I ran my hand down her abdomen. “You are also a very beautiful woman. Loyal, smart, and brave…” I trailed off as I reached the hem of the corset. There were a couple of inches of flesh and then her panties. They were the same lace as the corset and completely transparent. I could see her thatch through the white swirling pattern.

I slipped my hand between her legs, and she jerked. She was all pent up; I could feel the tightness in her muscles. I tutted in her ear when she tried to keep her thighs together and deny me access. Her eyes, usually hazel, had turned dark and full of want. She had no idea the things she was capable of. None at all. I was going to show her.

I slid my fingers across her pussy, fingering her through the lace. Her juices coated me despite the barrier of fabric. “Shall I tell you what else you are, mia moglie?”

Her gaze fixed on my hand working between her thighs, and her hips flexed against me in subtle movements I doubted she was even aware of. I leaned my face on her shoulder and spoke to her reflection.

“You are perfect, Charlie. Perfect. You light up the room.”

Her breath hitched, and she trembled.

“You fascinate me.” I kissed her neck.

She melted into my touch, her resistance ebbing.

I spun her in my arms and kissed her. Her lips parted immediately, and my tongue slid inside. I kissed her with long, languid strokes of my tongue that hinted at what I would soon do to her cunt. I lifted her by the waist and pulled her to the bed with me. Blood pounded in my veins, demanding that I finally take this woman, fill her up, mark her as mine, keep her forever. I was tired of denying myself. I couldn’t hold back one more second.

I searched for the ties to the damn corset as she wriggled like a live wire in my arms, not taking my lips from hers for even a moment. She pulled at me, her fingers sinking into my skin and clawing me closer.

“That’s right, bambina, show everyone who I belong to,” I growled in her ear.

She shivered and kissed me harder, pressing her tits into my chest until I thought I’d go crazy if I didn’t taste them. She wriggled her hips against me, her hot pussy greedy for more friction, and if I didn’t get her underwear off in the next ten seconds, I was going to rip the entire thing to shreds.

“Is this lingerie or a chastity belt?” I muttered as my hands continued to find nothing but lace and mesh.

Charlotte snorted with sudden, unexpected laughter and then froze. It was loud and inelegant. It was real. I found myself smiling, and it felt damn good.

I stroked her hair back from her hot forehead and reached for one of the blades I kept hidden near the bed. “I’m sorry if you love this. I’ll buy you a new one.”

Rearing back, I did the only thing I could think of and carefully positioned the blade at the lace of the cup. “Hold still, little nurse.”

She held her breath as I cut the lace apart on both sides and then sliced the sides of her panties. Tossing the knife, I pulled a hard nipple in my mouth and moaned. Fuck, that was perfection right there. The cut-open cups of the corset propped her tits up, and the cuts left just enough space for her nipples to pop through. I took my time licking and sucking the puffy buds while I worked her with my fingers, sinking three digits inside her. Tonight, she needed to take my cock, and she was so tight, it might even hurt. She needed to be stretched.

I fucked her with my fingers, rubbing my thumb on her clit until she came. Her muscles tightened on me and then slackened more than ever as she crested on waves of pleasure. I took the opportunity to push her legs apart and move between them.

Her hands gripped my shoulders, and she shuddered in my arms as I rocked my cock up her soaking entrance.

“I just came,” she muttered in a daze.

She was adorable. She was so used to coming being a rare occurrence, she had no idea that one time was nowhere near enough for a proper fucking.

“And you’ll come again, and again, until my name is all you can say.” I pressed inside, and her slick muscles parted beautifully for me. “I’m going to fuck you until you’re as addicted to my cock as I am to the taste of your cunt.” As addicted as I am to your smile. I withheld that particular thought. It felt more intimate somehow.

We both paused when I reached the end of her, my hips pressed flush against hers. It felt unbearably good to be inside her. She moved first, wriggling on my cock, urging me deeper.

I chuckled as I moved. My little nurse had no idea what she’d been repressing. She was going to be a wildcat in bed, I could tell. Once she stopped shaming herself for enjoying the things we did together, she’d be unstoppable. I was a lucky bastard.

No, not lucky.

I fucked her a little harder, and she gasped, a breathy sound that turned me on even more.

I made my own luck. Charlotte was the perfect example. I’d seen her and I’d kept her. Put my fucking ring on her finger, and now, as soon as I could manage it, I’d have her round with my child. Mine, forever.

She clung to me as I fucked her harder. Leaning up on one arm, and keeping my cock sunk deep, I reached between us with my other hand, circling her clit. She cried out.

“You have nothing to feel ashamed of, little nurse. You’re my wife, before God and witnesses. Nothing we do together is wrong.”

I fucked her slowly at first, building to a punishing pace. She clutched onto me, panting my name. I had a new favorite music, and it was my name rolling from this woman’s lips. When she contracted around me with a scream, I followed right behind. She held me so willingly and clenched my dick so hard, there was no holding back. I pulsed inside her, burying my cock in the warmth of her wet pussy.

Pushed in to the hilt, I cupped her sweating face and captured her mouth in a searing kiss. Her glazed eyes looked into mine. I’d never known it was possible to be so intimate with another person. To really see inside a soul. Not until I’d met this woman.

My murmur sounded raw. “Every time we touch, it’s holy, and nothing you think or feel can change that. My perfect, perfect wife.”

I was born a sinner, and I’d die one. I’d long since given up hope of salvation, and yet coming inside my wife felt like a glimpse of Heaven. It was the closest I’d ever come, and it was enough for me.