Tainted Vows | Book 1 'Til Death Do Us Part Duet | Mafia Romance | 18+

Chapter 15

Hi,
I'm back with another banging chapter. I know I said on my feed I'll update early but today I woke up late and reached late for work 😬 Thankfully, my boss didn't say anything. Phew.
So, I'm uploading it now when it's my lunch break.
Hope you guys enjoy it.
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Liliana

"Save your strength for later, when I take you on all your fours."

Dominic's lucid explicit unadulterated words roared in my ears kin thunder clouds. I couldn't hear anything except his filthy words. His filthy touch - somehow mastered to seduction. My ear tingled where his lips were mere a moments ago. The throb sliding down to my core blazing a deep rumble in the pit of my belly.

"Off you go now," Victoria ushered me, literally shoved me in the elite suit of the 'Hotel di Mirabella' closing the door behind me, winking as if to say 'Have fun'.

My gaze landed on the enormous king-size bed, rose petals sprawled on it. I scoffed. Then sighed aware that nothing going to occur.

Dominic's dark promise came to mind like a whiplash jerking me to encounter the harsh and bitter truth. I doubted his words. Though he is a Made Man and a man of word, he isn't interested in me. Not after what I did to Amara.
My best friend.
His sister.

I've never admitted the fact of someone so kind and pure would be the sister of a man like Dominic.
Cold-hearted beast.
She was pure.
An angel in hell.
She deserved better and she had it.
A safe and protected life.
A loving family.
The love of her life.
All of it snatched from her clutches because of my imbecile obstinacy.

This is a world we were born into. Some of us forced in. Some protected by the loved ones.
But, never safe.

The guilt claws in but I hastily chug it down. He won't touch me, neither I will allow anything to happen.

I desperately wished Mom or Victoria were here to help me get off the heavy dress. They reckoned my husband is obliged to do the chore. Nonetheless, he isn't.

I tried not to think of him. Or his sculpted body. His imposing build. The black tuxedo sprawling on his wide shoulders moulding every muscle or the raven pants hugging his thick thighs whilst he walked in utter dominance. The feel of his hard toned muscles pressing into the softness of mine - a stark contrast, as we graced the dance floor. I fought the urge not to think how good his arm felt caging me in his body. Almost, claiming me. Even through the barrier of the fabric of the gown I could feel the zeal in his palm spreading on me. I groaned at the memory of the feel of his wicked lips on my skin. Simultaneously, I loathed myself. I abhorred myself, my body, that it lured to his lascivious advances. I'm certain my reaction boosted his ego.

I should have fought over my control. A small part of me wanted to rebel. I wanted to know what it would be like to be underneath his heavy body.
To succumb to seduction.
To give in.
To be a submissive.
Yet, it will reside in my fantasy.

Whilst we were dancing I had the urge to reach on my tiptoes only to press a kiss to his soft, inviting, plump lips. The temptation was too much to resist. However, I succeeded to withstand the implicit fantasies to myself.

Regardless, I felt ashamed.
Used.
Whore.
The word emerged in a faintest of a whisper lingering on my shoulders, gnawing at my heart, crawling on my skin, perishing my soul. It's been years, years since no one had called me that. The last time I checked, Aunt Gabriella had thrown the disgust. Ever since then, no one dared to utter it.
Not even me.
Although it had sunk with yonks; it survived.
At the bottom it was alive.
Existing.
Breathing.
And at this very instant, I could feel it everywhere. These were my mere thoughts, the plethora of malicious fragments, my brain pulling tricks on me, yet I found myself hating for letting such absurd sentiments.