Unwilling Pawn by Measha Stone

Chapter 24

Christian

When I got the call from Anthony my blood had run cold. Amelia alone with a man like Gregor Romanov—the image would keep me awake at night for weeks. Of all the Romanov men, Gregor was the least reasonable. He had nothing to lose with being nowhere near in line to take over for his uncle. He could fuck with whoever he wanted. Other than pissing off the patriarch, what did he care if he ruined everything.

But she was home. She was safe. At least from Gregor.

“Christian, I know you’re mad, but at least listen to me.” Amelia kicked off her shoes once we were alone in our bedroom. Maggie was staying in the guest room on the other side of the penthouse. Well outside of hearing range. Which was good for Amelia. I couldn’t care less if she heard my wife getting the punishment she’d more than earned with her recklessness.

“I’ll listen.” I closed our door. “Once you’re naked and on your knees.”

Her cheeks erupted into an immediate dark blush.

“You wouldn’t tell me anything. Did you really expect me to do nothing?” She fisted her hands at her sides.

I stared at her, taking in the flush of her cheeks, the dark line of her mascara around her eyes, the deep cut of her neckline. My cock hardened in my slacks. Even when she proved to be disobedient, I couldn’t stop thinking of sinking my dick into her hot, tight pussy.

“I expected you to do what I told you to do. Leave it alone.” I unbuttoned my right sleeve cuff, folding it over once, then twice, before moving on to my left cuff. “I expected you to respect me enough not to sneak away from Anthony to talk with a man who would as easily rape and kill you as he would order a second round of drinks for the men who watched.”

“Are you mad because I wanted to know something you want to hide from me, or that I spoke to an enemy?” She licked her lips. “Because if I’m to avoid all of your enemies, you’ll need to give me a list.”

Ah, the bravery she showed when she knew she was licked, when she knew she would end up bent over with a bright red ass, continued to amaze me, to please me. Everything about my wife pleased me. Almost.

“Do you know what you could have started by approaching Gregor? You could have insulted him accidentally. A wrong word, a wrong look, and a war could have broken out.”

She huffed. “I asked him a simple question. He wouldn’t answer me any more than you would. What insult was there in that?”

“It doesn’t matter that you thought it was simple. It matters that he could have easily made a problem for us. You had no idea if he was dangerous. You had no idea and instead of listening to me about staying away from the Romanovs, you dove headfirst into his fucking den!”

“I walked into a room. A room, Christian, that was in a very public place. Anthony was just downstairs. And Gregor knew who I was. He knew who you were. I wasn’t in danger. He wouldn’t have done anything there. And if he did, does it really matter?” She took a step back. “Other than the inconvenience of having to answer the insult. I mean, really, wouldn’t things be so much easier for you if Gregor had done just what you say he could have done?”

My chest grew heavy at her words. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“If he’d just done away with me. It would be easier for you.” She moved away from me, using my surprise at her words as a means to get away. She rounded the bed, to her side.

“How exactly would it be easier?”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about all the ways I could fuck up your life.” She snapped her fingers. “Wait. I mean, I guess it would inconvenience you. You’d have to find another wife. Some other woman who you could fuck into submission. You could take her and twist her inside out for your own pleasure.”

My teeth snapped together. “Amelia, stop talking.”

“Why? Did you think I didn’t understand what’s happening here? Nothing’s changed. I’m still an ornament. Isn’t that what tomorrow’s party is about? To show off your new wife?”

“Only. Amelia. Not new, only wife.”

She blinked, taken back by my words. Good. She needed to understand there was nothing temporary here. She wasn’t the first of a long list of marriages, she was the only wife I would ever have.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just something to hang on the mantel at Christmas. Take me off the shelf to bring to dinner parties. I have no purpose here. And I never will.”

Before I could blink, I was on her; my hand wrapped around her delicate throat. Her eyes widened, the little bit of sparkle from her eyeshadow caught the light of the room. Sensing the fight in her ramping up, I squeezed my fingers around her neck. Her hands flew up to my wrists, but I wouldn’t be budged.

I brought my forehead against her own, inhaling deeply the scent of her perfume. Light and airy. Pure and sweet, just like her. And I was ruining it. I was destroying her.

And I wouldn’t stop.

“Jesteś moim jedynym celem,” I whispered. “Bez Ciebie nic się nie liczy.” Telling her she was my only purpose, that nothing mattered without her in Polish, knowing she couldn’t understand was a coward’s way, but it was the most I could offer.

“What?” she asked, dropping her hands from my wrists.

I loosened my grasp on her throat at the same time as I crushed my mouth against hers. I would not lose this woman to her own misconceptions of her worth. If I couldn’t explain it, I’d damn well show it.

Keeping my fingers around her throat, I reached down. Grabbing the skirt of her dress, a soft, hugging dress that showed too much but hid away even more, I pulled up the skirt and grabbed hold of her panties beneath.

“Christian.” She closed her eyes. I wouldn’t be deterred. One tug and the flimsy fabric broke, and I pulled it away from her body, tossing the tattered material to the floor at her feet.

“I should take my belt to your ass. I should bind your hands and whip you until I know you’ll feel nothing else but the marks I leave on your body.”

With one flick of my wrist, I tossed her onto the bed. As soon as her ass hit the mattress she crawled backward, as though she could escape me. As though I would believe she didn’t want everything I was about to give her.

I tore off my own shirt, sending buttons flying across the bed, down to the floor where I dropped the discarded garment. Leaning up on her elbows, her eyes followed my hands to my belt. Slowly, I pulled the leather through the buckle, knowing she wanted the leather to land across her ass. Not because she craved to be punished, but because she wanted to feel alive, and the pain gave her that.

Once naked, I crawled onto the bed. Grabbing an ankle, I tugged her closer to me.

“Christian, wait—”

“No, no waiting tonight, Amelia.” I grabbed hold of her dress at the neckline. “This should have been in the trash long ago.” I tore the dress straight down the middle of her body. The thin material tore easily and fell away from her body. Her breasts were exposed to me. Nipples already hard and pert, waiting for my touch, my kiss.

I kneed her legs apart and covered her body, taking one nipple into my mouth. She gifted me with a sweet hiss as my teeth dug deeper into the sensitive flesh. I bit down, counting in my head, then released. She groaned as the blood poured back to the spot, giving her an even deeper bite of pain.

As I moved down her body, trailing kisses and bites along between her breasts, over her stomach, she reached toward me. Easily, I swiped both wrists in one hand and pushed her hands over her head.

I settled between her thighs, my cock pressed against her hot, slick pussy.

“You were a bad girl tonight, Amelia.” I pushed the head of my cock just past her entrance.

I reached between us with my free hand, finding her swollen clit. “But you’re my bad girl.” I pinched her clit and waited until she gasped from the fresh pain before I plowed my cock straight into her pussy.

I gave no reprieve, no moment for her to think, to overthink, or to react. Over and over again, I thrust into her sweet body. Her pussy clamped down around my cock. Her body arched, welcoming the roughness I offered.

“Christian,” she moaned, planting her feet on the bed and pumping her hips upward. Every thrust was met with her body aching for the next.

“That’s it, sweetheart, so good.” I thrust harder, grinding my hips against her body. “Fuck, Amelia,” I growled. My balls pulled tight; her writhing was yanking me right to the cliff.

“Come, Amelia. Be good and come for me.” I thrust forward, twisting my hips to rub against her clit. And like the sweet girl, the good girl only she could be for me, she unraveled.

I caught her scream of release in my mouth as I crushed my lips against hers, fucking her even harder as she chased down every wave, every flicker of pleasure. My balls slapped against her ass, my cock plowed deeper and harder. Her pussy slicked, heated, and it was the end for me.

I thrust forward again, and again, until I stilled as my cock unleashed, filling her with my come. I bit down on her bottom lip, growling with the fading ripples of my own release.

This woman had purpose, and it was more than decoration for my arm or my mantel.

This woman breathed life into me.