Forced To Be The Mafia King's Bride novel Chapter 21

Dante’s POV

I turned Gia around to face me.

Her lashes were wet, her cheeks blotched and red from crying.

Without saying a word, I lifted her into my arms. Her body trembled against me, but she didn’t resist like before. The fight had drained out of her, and for a second, I saw a raw, broken emotion flash through her eyes before she looked away.

She curled into me like a wilted flower folding inward, soft and instinctive, as if I were the only thing holding her together. The simplicity of it, so innocent, so unguarded, punched a hole straight through my chest. I didn’t want to lean into the feeling that clawed its way up, so I buried it deep, where it couldn’t touch me.

With her in my arms, I walked over to the chair and sat down, keeping her cradled close against my chest.

For a long moment, I just held her, giving her space to breathe, letting her settle. So she knew that she wasn’t going anywhere.

My gaze roamed over her face again, swollen and flushed, her lips parted around small, shaky breaths. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

“Do you truly regret your actions?” I asked, my voice low but firm, forcing her eyes to meet mine.

She hesitated, then nodded. Her fingers brushed beneath one eye, wiping away a fresh tear before it fell. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Yes.”

It was either the truth… or she was just too tired to lie.

I groaned, not out of anger, but out of a darker urge twisting low in my gut.

“I’ll make it better.”

Before she could ask what I meant, I moved.

I shifted her, flipping her carefully across my lap. Her upper body lay against the armrest while her hips settled across my thighs. Her legs dangled over one side of mine, helpless, exposed, completely at my mercy.

Exactly where I wanted her.

I placed my palm on her lower back, grounding her, letting her feel the weight of it. Her breath hitched. She thought I’d punish her again.

I lifted the hem of her dress once more, dragging the fabric up slowly until her red, tender, sore, beautiful ass was completely exposed to me.

My palm swept across her skin, not to strike, not yet, but to soothe the sting of every earlier blow and remind her that I controlled both pain and pleasure.

She sucked in a breath, her body stilling under my touch, not from fear. No… from knowing I could do anything to her, and maybe from wanting me to.

I slid my fingers lower, between her thighs, and found her heat, still slick and wanting.

A low moan escaped her, barely audible, but I felt it in her. Her body trembled faintly against my thighs, and that was all the permission I needed.

I stroked her slowly, my fingers gliding over the soft, wet folds, circling her entrance lazily, watching her thighs twitch as sweet sensations coiled inside her.

She gasped, her fingers digging into my thighs.

“D…a…n…te…” she breathed, her voice splintering.

God, I loved hearing my name like that, shaken from her lips, fractured with need.

I smirked, drinking in the sound, the way her body moved under my hands, helpless against the pleasure building in her.

My jaw clenched with control as I kept the rhythm torturous, savoring how her walls tested and clenched around each stroke.

Her breathing was erratic, her chest rising and falling like she was drowning in it, and fuck, I loved watching her lose control. Watching her body betray her pride.

She whimpered, panting harder now, one hand gripping my thigh, the other clawing the chair arm. Her voice broke through the haze, soft and terrified:

“What is happening to me?” she asked, so innocently, like she was afraid of the answer.

I leaned in close, lips brushing her cheek. “You’re learning,” I whispered, fingers stroking deeper, slower, with wicked purpose. “What it feels like to want something you swore you didn’t.”

I spanked her clit again, just a quick jolt of pain over pleasure, and that did it.

She let out a sound that came from somewhere deep and feral. It tore from her throat before she slapped a hand over her mouth, ashamed of what her body had just confessed. She pressed her palm harder, as if she could take it back.

But I’d already heard it.

And it hit me hard.

A rush of heat shot straight to my cock, making it throb painfully against my zipper, pressing into her belly like it was begging to be released.

Every part of me wanted to rip my pants open, flip her over, and spread her out across the seat, ride in and out of her soaked heat until she screamed my name, loud and reckless, echoing off the damn walls.

Until she climaxed in a way she never had before.

But I’d made her a promise, and I always kept my word. Still, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t break her down… slowly. Make her crave the very thing she claimed to hate.