I nod and approach slowly. I don’t want to scare her off. “Say what’s on your mind, princess.”
“I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want to marry anybody, much less some bratva asshole. And your father’s never going to approve of us even if I did.”
I ball my right hand into a fist and picture pulling her thick, dark hair. I picture the gasp she’d make. Her moan as my lips smother hers.
“You’d think you’d be a little more grateful considering I saved you from being whored out.”
“I was only in that position because of you. Because you couldn’t leave me alone, even though I begged you not to come again. You saved me from a problem you created.”
I close the distance between us. She sucks in a shocked breath and backs up, bumping into the wall. She blinks quickly, dazed slightly, as I reach up and touch her cheek with my palm. I slide it back, wiping the tears, and grip her hair like I’ve been needing.
She glares at me, and beneath her anger simmers a hot desire. I feel it pulsing back and forth. Magnetic and irresistible.
“You were abandoned in a whorehouse.” I say the words slow. I want her to understand.
“I had friends. I was surviving. Now I don’t know what’ll happen to Mira and the others without me there to help them.”
“I said you can visit. What more do you want?”
“I don’t know,” she says, glaring now. “Maybe I want you to leave me the hell alone.”
“Too late for that, princess.” I breathe hard, staring into her eyes. “You keep acting like you don’t want this. But as soon as I get close, you can’t help yourself.”
“Fuck you.”
I shove her back harder. She gasps, but my hand takes the brunt of the force. I slip my fingers roughly down the front of her jeans and cup her pussy. Her panties are soaked through already—just like I knew they would be.
“Fucking liar,” I whisper and she glares hate at me—hate and lust in equal measures. “You can say what you want, but this doesn’t lie. This wet, tight cunt.”
“My body’s reactions aren’t me. You’re an asshole, Maxim. You can fuck me and make me come, but I’ll never love you.”
I lean close, my lips inches from hers. “Who the fuck said anything about love, princess?”
I bite her lower lip hard as I press my fingers against her clit. She gasps, and I slip her panties aside, sliding my fingers inside. Her moans are like heaven as I smother her mouth with mine. I fuck her, going nice and deep, getting my fingers slick and soaked before pulling them back out to roll around her clit. Her little gasps are gorgeous and her whimpers drive me wild as I tighten my grip on her hair.
“You’re mine,” I say softly. “If you want to keep breathing, you’ll accept that. You think I want this? You think I want to marry you? I did that to save you from a fate worse than death. You’re not the only one sacrificing.”
“Poor little mafia boy,” she says, head leaned back, her tongue licking against her lower lip. “You want me for your little toy. Well, you can have my body, but you’ll never get all of me, no matter how much you try.”
“We’ll see about that, princess.”
I smirk and roll my fingers faster. I fuck her with them, tease her clit, and kiss her hard. She bites my lip and I bite her back, growling my pleasure, as she gasps and her breaths get faster and faster. She comes in a lightning storm of whimpers and moans, her back arched, her legs shaking. I hold her up and finish her off, and when I’m done, I make her suck my fingers clean before I kiss her softly.
She pushes me away and runs past. I watch her disappear into the bathroom with a smile on my lips.
My toy. My pet. My princess.
My father is going to kill us both.
But I will have my fun in the meantime.
Chapter 12
Siena
Maxim wakes me early and stands in the doorway to the bedroom, frowning as I stretch. “I have to work. I’ll be back later today,” he says as he lingers, his eyes moving up and down the sheets that cover my body. He watches me with a strange, hooded gaze, like he can’t quite meet my eyes. “Please try to stay in this room if you can.”
“I need more clothes.” I shift in bed and sit up. The sheet shifts and falls down slightly, and a muscle in his jaw bulges like he’s trying to keep himself under control. “Emmie’s got good taste, but she’s not really my size.”
He glances at my shoulder where the shirt’s pulled down and my skin is exposed. I like the way his gaze burns into me like he’s barely keeping his hands to himself. I remember the feel of his fingers between my legs and the cocky smirk as he made me come, and my emotions are split in two, between hate and lust, and all I want to do is to get out of this place alive. But I’m starting to wonder if that’ll ever happen.