Merciless Vows by Faith Summers
15
Aria
Ichose to wear a black empire line dress with a high neck, long frilly sleeves, and a trail that runs down to my ankles.
It looks similar to a tunic a nun would wear. I’m wearing it because it suits my mood. Although, I suppose it makes a statement, too, considering Lucca wanted me to wear red.
The only thing attractive about me is my hair. I’m wearing it down.
When I walk into the living room, Lucca looks at me with narrowed eyes and grits his teeth in distaste.
He’s standing at the head of the table drinking what looks like wine in a long-stemmed glass.
On the table is a feast of delicious food I know Marylin made. There’s roast beef and vegetables. Then some other little interesting dishes in the surrounding platters, I think, are Russian. Whatever it is, the feast before me looks like a delicious, heavenly spread.
And so does the man.
This is the first time we’re seeing each other since he spanked me.
He’s trimmed his beard, so it looks neater, and his hair looks slightly shorter too. Only slightly, and while he might not be trying to look sexy, he does in his full black ensemble again. Tonight he’s wearing a shirt with the top button undone, exposing glimpses of his tattoos. I can just make out one medieval-looking cross.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” he asks, looking me over.
“Clothes.” I deadpan.
“It’s hideous. You paid money for that?”
“There’s nothing wrong with it. If you don’t like my taste in clothes, then that’s your problem, not mine.”
He gives me a tight-lipped smile. “Watch it, Printsessa. I don’t think you want another round of punishment from me. I didn’t plan to end the night the way we did last night. Although I can’t deny there wasn’t a certain thrill to taking you over my knee.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” I eye him dangerously. “Such a thing would thrill you.”
He chuckles. “Well, the rest of you looks beautiful. Wear red for me next time. Red is your color.”
“I’m not so sure about that. But your obsession with red explains why your P.A. was wearing it today.”
The humor recedes from his eyes. “Violet was here?”
“Yes. She seemed concerned I might not be able to please you the way she could.”
“I’m sure you told her you could.”
“I told her no such thing because I don’t care. I don’t care who you’re with or choose to be with, and I certainly don’t need people like that in my life. So you can tell her to leave me alone, and she can have you.”
He surprises me with a laugh. “Listen to you claiming me yours and giving me away in the same sentence.”
I bite down hard on my back teeth. “I wasn’t doing anything of the sort. You know what I mean.”
“To give something away, it needs to belong to you first, or you should at least think it does. You know what I mean?” He borrows the same words and tone I took with him.
I don’t answer. It’s best not to because I do know what he means, and I’m infuriated that I feel anything at all.
He sets his glass down and walks around to me, towering over me with his height and his presence. Even in my heels, my head still only reaches the top of his shoulders.
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a little black box, all the while keeping his gaze trained on me, unwavering and resolute.
He flicks open the box, and I’m surprised by the beauty of the ring inside.
When he reaches for my hand, I think of all the people who’ve cautioned me over the last few days.
Do as I’m told.
Be careful.
Don’t make life harder for myself than it is.
All those warnings come to me, and I give him my hand. The second he touches my skin, the image of him doing just that in the past flashes into my mind.
Although the image is blurry, I can see it, see him. It started with the slight touch of my skin, then he held my hand the same way he is now, and I felt safe.
It was me who leaned in to kiss him, and he kissed me back.
I blink, and the memory is gone.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I reply because it is nothing.
“You’re lying to me.”
“You told me not to remember you. I don’t want to, but it’s there in my head.”
“What do you remember?”
“Nothing important, just the lie you were. I don’t know why we met, but I assume it’s obviously to do with my father. I wish we hadn’t met. It would be easier.”
“It would, but it is what it is, Printsessa.”
I hate that phrase. It is what it is. It always seems like something people say to justify whatever shit they feel like concocting.
He just takes the ring out of the box and slips it on my finger. It fits like it was made for me, and I hate that. It’s a fucking mark of ownership on me. Something to hold me down and remind me I belong to him.
“Do make sure I see that ring on your finger at all times.” He stares at me intently.
I don’t answer, I just stare down at the ring, at the diamond glistening in the light, and it feels like the anchor to my doom.
“Do you hear me, Aria?”
“Yes, I hear you. What are you going to do with me after? When you get what you want. When you get the business, will this be us, living here in this house pretending we’re normal?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. All you need to worry about is what we’re doing now.” He reaches for my face and holds my neck, so I’m staring up at him. “All you need to worry about now is how to please me. Please me and obey me. Do those two things, and neither of us will have a problem. You get what you want, and I get what I want.”
“I don’t want anything from you.”
“Your wet pussy last night tells me otherwise, and I’ll bet it won’t take much to make you wet for me all over again.”
“I don’t want you.”
Tears sting the backs of my eyes. I try to move out of his grasp, but he holds me still.
“Don’t fight me, Aria. You won’t win.” He tightens his grip and pulls me closer. Then I freeze right there when he lifts the hem of my dress and cups my sex.
I gasp when he slides one finger under the lace of my panties and pushes his finger into my pussy.
One touch, and I’m wet. I can feel my arousal gathering in my core, and the wild smile on his face suggests he now knows too.
“I hate you,” I mutter.
“You don’t,” he states boldly like he’s right, and what I loathe at this moment is he might be. He starts pumping in and out of my pussy, finger fucking me so hard I have to grab onto his shoulders to keep myself from falling over.
A loud moan leaves my lips as he pumps even harder and faster. I can hear Marylin in the kitchen, and panic surges through me when I think she might have heard.
“We have to stop,” I croak.
“No. I like this too much.” The devil shocks the hell out of me by ripping away the fabric from my dress. “That’s better.”
He tears at the section where there was a band of lace going around the body of it, so now the damn thing stops just below my hips.
My mouth falls open, but the air expels from my lungs when he lifts my leg and thrusts his finger back inside my pussy. He finger fucks me hard, and like a slave to desire— and whatever craziness has taken me— I melt into his chest and allow him to break me.
“Lucca,” I moan, too loud, but I don’t care. I’m on the verge of coming.
“That’s right, Printsessa. Say my name.”
“No.”
“Yes. I told you, you won’t win, so don’t fight me. You like what I do to you. Now just imagine me touching you all over your body, all night, making you come, again and again, screaming my name on your lips.”
I try to stifle a moan, but it comes out strangled, and he smiles with satisfaction.
He adds another finger to my pussy, and one hard thrust makes me come hard.
I come and orgasm for the first time in my recent memory, and it feels so good.
I rise with the wave of desire and passion, grabbing onto his arm as my body shudders.
I catch my breath when he pulls his fingers out of me and places them in his mouth. He licks them off like he’s tasting some rare exotic meal, and I stare up at him, shocked by what he’s doing.
I barely manage to pull in a breath before he crouches down and buries his face between my thighs.
His tongue pushes up into me, and he drinks me in, flicking over my clit as he laps up my juices. He continues until I’m clean and wanting him all over again.
I can’t even feel revolted at myself. My mind is too fractured to do that.
When he’s finished, he stands, then leans closer, moving to my ear. “See, you don’t hate me. So how about we address the issue of hate some other time. Maybe when you truly don’t want me. Now sit and eat, Printsessa.”
