Page 46 of Wicked Villain

Last night, my sweet little wife was fast asleep by the time I got out of the shower. She never even stirred when I climbed into bed next to her and brushed her hair out of her face. I lay next to her, thinking I’d be fine. Man, was I ever wrong.

Within seconds, I had a hard-on that could only be satisfied by fucking. It’s anyone’s guess how I managed to control myself.

I’ve never done that before—lie next to a woman all night and not touch her.

And of all the women who have passed through the walls of this house, no woman has slept in my bed with me. I made it a rule. That changed with my wife.

The excuse I’m using is that I want her where I can see her. And that I want her in an environment where she can feel me, even when I’m not there, so she remembers who has the control. But all those reasons feel like a bald-faced lie.

Like every other man with fucking eyes, I can see my wife is gorgeous and, regardless of the situation, my dick is not immune to her.

The helpless princess is trapped in my house, sleeps in my bed, and is powerless against me. Yet all I’ve done is inhale her scent, caress her skin, and kiss her.

That’s it.

But really, I know why I haven’t gone further yet.

Taking what she’s too frightened to give doesn’t do it for me. I may be a sick bastard, but I can’t get off on a terrified woman lying motionless beneath me.

I want her hunger and surrender.

All of it. Not just the meager glimpses of curiosity she shows me.

Though, that works to some degree. I won’t deny it. It’s what’s getting me in trouble. Her body responds to me despite her denial, and that look in her eyes… like she’s imagining us together, it drives me wild.

Give it time. There’s only so much curiosity can do. Eventually, every moth touches the flame, and fire always, always burns.

I take another gulp of coffee.

The wedding was supposed to be punishment for her, too. When you’re on a roll like I am, you want to punish everyone.

I’m not sure yet what she feels for Danillo, but I made sure I seated him and his miserable family near us while we took our vows. I wanted them close so they could see the future they had planned disappear right in front of their eyes.

Nothing gave me more pleasure than watching the defeat play out on Corrado’s face as he handed me his precious daughter. Having the Bellandis, his greatest allies, witness the ceremony was the cherry on top. The event was a mobster’s triumph. Revenge, humiliation, and an audience to witness Corrado’s defeat.

But… if I’m being honest, what fascinated me more was her, the precious daughter, in that wedding dress, and her big sad eyes.

When we got home last night, I noticed her doing her best not to be as interested in me as I am in her as she scanned my tattoos.

I’m impressed she knows what they mean, but I’m not surprised. She likes art, and I’m sure her father would have clued her in so she could identify her criminals.

As she looked at my tattoos, she cast aside the terrified virgin to give in to curiosity, and for a moment, those same sad eyes were free of hate.

I liked her like that. A little too much.

I set the mug down and gaze toward the door.

Where is she? I have things to do.

Knowing her, she’s most likely stalling. Today is the second day of our marriage. The shock is probably sinking in.

At least that’s all she has to worry about.

I’m shocked I’m married, too, but the other parts of my plan are grating on my nerves.

Like the fact that I haven’t heard from Kieran yet. Yes, he still technically has today and tomorrow to get back to me, but patience has never been a virtue of mine.

I hate waiting, and my vendetta against Moretti is more than just personal.