Keeping his bride

Mateo

ARIA COMES TO bed not long after I do that night. I watch her closely and grow angry when she refuses to meet my gaze even once. She’s mad at me. But, hell, I’d be mad at me too. I lost my temper with her earlier. When my uncle opened his fucking mouth about my past, spilling my secrets, it pissed me off. But when I saw the look of pity in Aria’s face, well, let’s just say the rage inside of me overtook my emotions. I don’t want her fucking pity. I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. But least of all, her.

She changes in the bathroom and comes out wearing what looks like a silk blouse and matching shorts. I don’t even have it in me to remind her that I want her wearing one of my shirts to bed. She can wear whatever she wants tonight. But just for tonight.

With a pained whimper, she climbs into bed and lays down on her stomach as far away from me as she can.

Reaching for a special numbing cream on the nightstand that I used on her whip marks, I get up on my knees and go to her.

She immediately tenses up when I reach for the waistband of her shorts. “Please, no,” she begs with fear flooding her voice.

She thinks I’m going to take her again. And while I would love to do just that, I know I went too far tonight. “I’m going to put some cream on you,” I explain. “It will help with the pain.”

When she visibly relaxes, I pull down her shorts. Her plump ass is covered with my belt marks, and just the sight of them has my cock roaring to life. She looks so damn sexy with my marks on her, but I force myself to settle down and focus on the task at hand.

After scooping some of the cream out of the container and into my hands, I begin to gently rub it into her backside. At first, she flinches with every movement, but eventually she just learns to accept my touch.

This reminds me of when I was taking care of her after she was whipped, and a deep frown tugs at my lips. I didn’t want her to be in pain like that ever again and just look at what I did to her tonight.

I fucked up. Royally.

“I should have taken my anger out on my uncle,” I tell her by way of apology. I’m new to this shit. Apologizing for my actions. I’ve never had to account for any of my fuckups before. I’ve always either fought or killed my way through them as a solution.

Aria doesn’t answer me. I suspect she’ll be mad at me for a while. And why does that thought upset me? I never cared before who liked me or who hated me. But I suddenly care what she thinks? I want her to like me?

I shake my head. She shouldn’t like me. Just look at what she’s endured since she arrived here. I’d hate me if I were her.

And the brutal realization of that hits me like a massive tidal wave, threatening to drown me altogether. She’s just trying to survive in my world here. And she’s been such a brave girl in doing so. Hell, she tried to kill me the first night here. And if our roles were reversed, I would have tried the same damn thing.

It’s too late to take back what I’ve done. And I know I’ll inevitably fuck up in the future with her. It’s not like I can just change overnight. What I can do, though, is try. I can try for her. Try to be a better man, someone she can learn to care for. And maybe, someday, I could learn to care for her too. I’ve already killed for her. That was the easy part. I’d do it a thousand times over. I’d kill anyone who tried to hurt her or so much as looked at her the wrong way. But the idea of falling for her scares the ever-living hell out of me.

When I hear Aria’s soft snores, I realize that I put her to sleep with my soothing touch. That makes the future of our relationship seem possible. As long as there is some gentle aftercare, she can perhaps handle everything I give to her. And there is so much more I want to do to my little captive.

I rub the rest of the lotion in as gently as I can before pulling up her shorts. Then, I cover her with a sheet and lay beside her, watching her sleep for a while before I eventually drift off.

Aria

I WAKE UP the next morning alone and confused. I barely remember falling asleep last night. Mateo’s soothing touch on my bottom somehow caused me to slip into a peaceful slumber. God, I’m so messed up. He beat me with his belt, but I ended up craving his touch afterwards. I seriously think I’m losing my mind here. And the longer I stay, the worse it will no doubt get.

After I take a shower and get dressed, I debate whether I even want to go downstairs and face him. My stomach chooses that moment to grumble loudly, though, reminding me that I can’t stay in this room forever and starve to death.

Sighing, I make my way downstairs and to the kitchen. When I grow closer, I can hear loud, boisterous voices and laughter. But as soon as I enter the room, all the chatter seems to die. Mateo is surrounded by a group of his men on the far side of the kitchen.

Feeling his burning stare on me, I glance in his direction, barely acknowledging him before I grab some food from the center island and turn to leave.

“Aria,” I hear his deep voice call for me.

I stop and squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that somehow I can disappear or that he’ll just miraculously forget that I’m here.

“Aria,” he calls again, forcing me to acknowledge him.

Slowly, I turn, and it takes every ounce of strength inside of me to meet his gaze. He looks brutally handsome in a black three-piece suit with dark stubble lining his strong jaw, and somehow that pisses me off even more. It’s not fair to be that beautiful, especially when I’m mad at him.

“Come,” he demands, moving his index and middle fingers in a come-hither motion.

I glower at him. “I’m not a dog,” I spit out.

His men around him sit in shocked silence, and then they burst out in laughter. Mateo smirks and says something in Spanish to them, causing them to laugh even harder.

Fuming, I stalk out of the room, not giving a care in the world. But when I hear the door swinging open behind me, I realize I messed up.

“Aria!” he calls.

My steps falter, but then I decide to act like I don’t hear him. Maybe he’ll just go back to his cohorts and leave me the hell alone.

In a few strides, he’s on me, grabbing my shirt in his fist, spinning me around and pinning me against the wall. My breakfast falls to the floor, and I stare at it longingly. And then I raise my head and glare at him. “Hey, I was going to eat that!” I say furiously.

“Are you hungry, corazon? I doubt if you even know what true hunger is,” he says, seething.

I can tell in his expression and in his dark chocolate eyes that he does. Tearing my gaze from his, I stare at the wall beyond us, ignoring him. Look what my pity for him got me last time. I’m not falling for that again.

He grips my hips in his large hands and then he leans down, his mouth at my ear when he whispers, “Are you always such a brat when you’re hungry?”

My hands curl into fists at my sides, and I defiantly raise my gaze to his. “No. I’m always like this after someone beats me with their belt!” I snap.

My words have their desired effect because he visibly flinches. “Aria,” he starts. “Last night was…wrong,” he confesses, shocking me. His fingers slowly drift down my hips and around to my backside. He gently touches me there, and I wince. His dark eyes study my reaction, and he frowns. “I’m sorry, Aria. I won’t ever do that again out of anger. Do you understand?”

I carefully dissect his words. “You won’t do it again out of anger, or you won’t ever do it again?” I question him.

“I must confess,” he starts, his mouth so close that I can feel the heat of his breath against my skin. “You were so very wet after I took my belt to you. I swear I can still feel your tight cunt pulsing around my cock.”

I shudder and let out a small gasp when he places a kiss to my neck, and I curse my traitorous body. Why do I always seem to melt when he talks dirty to me? I have to stop reacting this way to him, I mentally chide myself.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting mine. “Go soak in a hot bath. I will bring breakfast to you. And then I’m going to feast on your pussy for hours until you finally forgive me,” he says, stepping away and leaving me breathless.

His threat has me clenching my thighs together, and I hate when I see the knowing glint in his gaze. He already knows my body so well. I’m like an instrument that he has fine-tuned. And he’s the maestro, constantly playing me and knowing exactly which strings to pluck to get the sweetest sounds.

On unsteady legs, I walk away from him, inwardly cursing at myself for being so completely and utterly turned on and perhaps the stupidest girl on the planet right now.