Chapter Thirteen

Promise Me Vengeance

Rafe

I need your help.

Those four words explode inside my chest. She's asked, and there's only one thing I can do in answer. "What do you need?"

A wretched sound that shreds me from the inside out rips from her throat. "I don't know. People are dead, Rafe."

Fuck.

My heart stops. "Diego?"

"Bleeding out. Uh, Thalia is fixing him," she whispers. "And Luca … they are the reason I'm calling." Her voice grows smaller by the minute.

"Pride sucks, huh?" I've had my own share of this over the years, and seeing my own life fall apart right as my father passed the Gallo mantle makes me wonder if both our families aren't stuck in some perpetually twisted, cursed loop. Her sharp intake of breath tells me she's not ready to give up just yet. Good. That's the wife I know and fucking worship. "Not the way you're thinking. I meant me," I say, softly. "I've been falling over my ego and insecurities for nearly thirty years, Willow. I understand."

"Thank you," she says, her words hardly more than a breath.

"If you two are done schmoozing, can you get your fucking ass here please, Rafe?" Luca yells from what sounds like the other end of the world.

"Where are you?" I ask when Willow giggles, then cuts the sound off, like she's appalled at the inappropriate noise. "Don't. I fucking love your laugh. Where are you?" And who the fuck died?

"At the docks. Regina…" A loud wail rises from wherever she is.

My sister. But the sound that breaks my heart is one I know, one I remember from the day our mother died. It takes less than a few seconds to recognize the voice as my kin, and what happened. Shit. Devon. So much for my truce.

"Konnor is going to be pissed." I rake a hand through my hair, scoring my scalp with my nails. "I'll be there in less than ten."

"Thank you, Rafe," she says, a haunted, strained silence between us before I end the call.

Willow might still love me, hell, need me even, because I pushed her into a frenzy she shouldn't have ever engaged in, because of me. But fuck me if I won't take out my fear on her stunning fucking flesh tonight when we are alone.

She'll remember walking away from me. And I'll make sure she never does it again.

Ever.

****

Soft footsteps follow me up the stairs and along the corridor, with no hesitation. Willow hasn't spoken to me since we left the docks, and a sort of pensive silence develops between us.

When I reach the door of our room, the room where I have been sleeping alone for the past week, I hold it open and usher her inside, trailing my fingers along the slope of her back to the curve of her ass. Her clothes are trashed, covered in blood and grime from the docks, but I don't care.

All it shows is that when she got one of her people shot and another dead in her care, she didn't back off or run away from her failure. Because that's a setback every one of us in this life face at some point. The crucial answer she gave is the right one, the one that says she'll continue to be formidable, fierce, relentless.

Beautiful and stunning and so goddam fuckable. Though no one else gets the right to that except me. Not even Dom, though that was fun at the time. From now on, though, Willow is mine and mine alone.

Still unspeaking, I walk up behind her, closing and locking the door, though there is no need apart from seeing her flinch at its snicking sound when I flick the thing too hard, and reach around to work the buttons on her blouse.

Like the submissive wife who knows she's royally fucked up, she lets me. Her body tremors against mine, her soft, shallow breaths the only sound to break the pervasive silence in our room. Every button allows me to glide my fingertips over her skin in the sweetest touch, igniting nerve endings beneath. Any other night I'd have her lay her head to my shoulder and kiss us both senseless before I fucked her into the mattress, but tonight needs to be different.

It must be, to set a new standard. That if I fucking well beg her to come back to me, she does. I never experienced greater fear in my life than these last nights, wondering if I'd find her body on the docks, shot up like one of her henchmen. It's only by the grace of a God who long closed His door to me that I picked up the body of my enemy instead of hers.

Still only using my fingertips, I graze the material from her body, then her bra and skirt, leaving her in only her panties and heels. Catching her hands, I hook her fingers through the fine lacy strands she modeled for me weeks ago, when I fucked her on the floor of the boutique I took her to, knowing she needed her independence then.

What's happened is my fault for not giving her more when I had the chance. For not listening when she spoke.

That night had been passionate, and loving, and all-encompassing. Tonight will be nothing like it.

She takes the hint, peeling the thong down her legs and stepping out of the damp lace that's already coated in her arousal. Then she straightens, and doesn't move.

Good girl.

I brush my knuckles tenderly over her cheek, and she arches back into me, confusion tensing her features when I press my knuckles hard to the back of her neck in line with her spine.

I walk her to the wall that way, telling her without words who is in control. That was stripped from me, and I have never hated anything more than not knowing. Not being able to be there. Not being in control of my own fate.

And so she will wear my wrath tonight.

Her hands flex when they hit the wall, but I curl my fingers around her throat loosely, tugging so she pivots on her heels in the thick, plush carpet. When her back faces the wall I step into her, herding her into its cold, smooth surface. Her lips part on the lightest gasp, then part wider.

Instead of letting her speak, I place my mouth gently over hers, kissing her lightly, gently. Tender and sweet and all the things she knows I am not. When I draw back, my message has made its way through to her, but she stares up at me in confusion, the slightest flicker of fear at her own not knowing reflecting in her stunning jade eyes.

Fucking perfect.

I let my gaze wander her body, tracking through all the things we've done together. From taking her virginity at my club, to shooting Konnor, fucking in this room when I saw what her family did to her … sharing her with my best friend.

Tonight will be another first.

I drop to my knees, motioning her to part her legs slightly. She stares down at me, her chest barely moving as I lean in to glide my tongue along her beautifully soft, waxed flesh. Already engorged with need from my teasing, from the sense of wrongness about tonight while I touch her gently, her pussy gushes fresh, a hesitant sound eliciting above me.

I tap her stomach firmly and Willow closes her mouth, breathing audibly through her nose. Nodding my pleasure at her surrender, I lick the exposed lips of her pussy, all around the tops of her thighs and inside, drawing my tongue around the edge of her entrance but no more. Not pushing my tongue inside to feel her clench, not laving over her clit.

Nothing to make sure she orgasms for me.

Not yet.

Willow's breaths come shorter and harder as I lick leisurely and gently until her thighs tremble. When I think she might come undone at the slightest touch, I pull back, blowing cool air at her tortured skin from a distance with nowhere near the level of pressure she needs.

I stare up at her from my knees, daring her to challenge me from the position I maintain, showing her who holds the power between us, for now. She nods, her nails scraping the wall to keep herself standing.

Smiling, I rise, taking one elbow in the lightest touch and guide her to a chair overlooking the bay from a broad floor-to-ceiling glass panel. I don't really care if anyone sees us, tonight is only for her and me.

Bending her at the waist I guide her forward over the back of the chair until she's on her toes in the heels, her tits swaying but not pressed to the chair. I lay her hands out in front of her, hanging over the edge of the seat, and brush her hair over her shoulder so her back is exposed to me, her body a list of all the scars and sins and promises we've made and broken to each other.

She doesn't move, except when I tap her feet out, spreading her legs so she feels the exposure, the powerlessness of her position. Breath pants from her slim frame, but she doesn't fight me. I thank her silently with a kiss to her shoulder.

Unbuttoning my shirt, I walk behind her where she can't see me, looking out at the bay, then down at her. I undo my belt, not cracking the leather but removing it from the loops on my pants, the leather slithering against the material. She tenses, but Willow has been tortured in the past and I enjoy spanking her too much to make this her punishment.

Walking forward, I loop the ends around her wrists, pulling them together but not too tight. Her brow crinkles as she watches me fold the other end where I might have otherwise kept it for a leash, and hold it in front of her face. When she doesn't react I tap her lips, but she shakes her head against the gag, continuing our silent conversation.

Nodding, I slide two fingers along her spine, all the way to her tailbone and tap there too. Willow freezes for a fraction of a second, then, with eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her lips part.

I press the leather between them, careful not to hurt her mouth that closes neatly over the leather. My cock swells at the thought of her imprint I'll wear daily as a reminder of her submission. One tear breaks free, and I lean forward, licking its path gently, then the other side as her first full tears fall.

I've barely touched her, and I already know she's mine again.

Willow closes her eyes as I circle back around her, grabbing a bottle of lube from the nightstand. I might be a hard master, but I'm not cruel to my toys, and Willow is my favorite. My only.

Sliding a hand along the back of her thigh, I reacquaint myself with the shape of her ass, pulling both cheeks apart to add to her dose of humiliation, letting her sink deeper into the headspace I need her in before I ruin her.

The dark hole we've played with but never broken in full winks at me, and I smile. Freeing my aching cock, I rub myself leisurely, drawing out the moment as she shudders and trembles without my touch, already so on edge that a single flick to her pulsing skin could break her.

Instead of fingering her first, the lube's cold, clinical kiss is all she feels, sliding over her heated flesh, dipping into a place I promised her I would claim. Her legs shake, and I pull out my phone and snap pictures with the sound on, so she knows exactly what I'm doing.

When I've teased her and myself enough I play with her asshole without touching any other part of her, sliding my finger around in sensuous circles until she's panting and straining.

We haven't even started yet, my little fuck toy of a wife.

I push my finger into her dark rosette, and she lets out a shuddering breath. Her hole clenches around me as I fuck her gently with it, working in two, then three and scissoring my fingers, stretching her. Willow doesn't move, doesn't fight, except to stay relaxed through my mental torture while I stimulate her body to its shattering point. I can smell her pussy gushing down her thighs but that hole will remain unused, bare tonight.

Whenever I punish her from now on, nothing will fill that hole and she'll remain empty, while I fill the rest of her to overflowing with my cum. A reminder of who we are and who she is to me.

Nudging her asshole with my cock I push in gently, watching with fascination as the mushroom head pops in, her ring strangling the underside of my crown. Managing to hide my gasp at the sensation, I tug free, her ass not quite closing the way it did before. Repeat, again and again until she's gaping a little more and sobbing silently, her shoulder shaking with the forbidden pleasure, and the never-ending, unsatisfying tease.

All the while just managing to hold onto my own pleasure. I won't fill her until I'm ready and satisfied she's broken to me, craving me. The way I crave her.

She's my obsession, and no one else's. I'll claim all her firsts for myself, sear my name against the fabric of her soul.

Sliding all the way into her stretched asshole, I settle my weight against her pale round ass cheeks, rocking a little and keeping back the groan building in my throat. She's held silent in her suffering, keeping her side of the deal. Can I do anything less in return for her?

And so I fuck her raw until my cock screams from the building pressure, frenzied, and filled with the madness only she incites in me. Her body pulses and flutters on me, milking my cock as I feel her orgasm building.

I allow it, not ruining the onslaught of bliss for her, knowing the forbidden shame of coming like this will play on her mind over and over again. The sadist in me needs that, needs her to crave my broken, fucked-up soul as much as I do hers. And when I come, I scream her name, filling her until my cum drips back along my cock and trickles into her pussy.

Willow shudders, her head thrown back, my belt still clenched between her teeth as she pulses around me, coming for what feels like forever, the tease I gave her so great. Her legs fold and I catch her before she hits the carpet, carrying her to the bathroom and setting her on the floor of the shower. She lost her shoes somewhere in our wake, and I kick off my pants, extracting the leather belt and massaging her cheeks as she stares at me through a sheen of tears and forgiveness.

I kiss her deep and lovingly and all the things I am only for her, my cum dripping from her ass, the scent of sex and heartbreak wrapping around us. Her arms fling around my neck and she sobs out the three words I feared I'd never hear again from her.

"I love you."

****

Luca brings us trays of food and pots of coffee for the next twelve hours while I worship my wife and give her more orgasms than she can endure, holding her as she sleeps only to wake her and fuck her gently, rocking us both to a series of sweet orgasms, not letting her pull away from me. Each time we drowse or wake it's with my cock still hard inside her, and I fuck her again, showing her how much I appreciate her surrender, her acceptance, her forgiveness.

And when she guides me back to her asshole, begging me softly with eyes full of love, I take her again, letting her show me what she likes, and her punishment becomes a benchmark for us both.

My day is perfect, my wife by my side, full of cum in every damn hole in her body and refusing to wash, begging for more than I can give. I sip my slightly cold coffee as she nuzzles my cock, refusing to stop, sucking me gently as she rests her head on my thighs. This isn't the sort of blowjob designed to get me off; it's a sweet, loving gesture, cleaning me, suckling while she traces patterns on my thighs, needing to stay close.

I appreciate her reciprocation more than I can acknowledge.

Resting a hand in her hair and petting her gently, I let her play, grateful to have her back where I need, in a place she belongs. Whatever our future holds, we will conquer it together.

Perfect—right up until a phone call blows my world to hell. I pick up the call on speaker without looking at the screen.

"Yeah?"

I should have looked.

"You lost me my brother, Gallo," Konnor's cold, detached voice filled with vengeance emanates around my room and shatters everything I spent the last hours rebuilding in a second of silence.

I swallow, tugging at Willow when she freezes, pulling her along my body and tucking her into my side. I knew the treaty we made was worthless the moment Devon died in her car. And I have no fucking idea how to heal an irreparable hole that destroys the treaty between my people and his. Keeping both sides safe.

"I'm sorry for your loss." The useless words are hollow fragments of shattered hope.

"You are sorry." Konnor laughs, a rough sound I recognize, knowing what it feels like to have my heart ripped from my soul.

And so I don't answer, knowing there is nothing I can say to fix this, only weather his rage, as Willow weathered mine. The difference is, I will never bow to Konnor Hennie.

"My brother shouldn't have died today. It wasn't his time. So, I want you to think of those you love. The ones closest to you, Gallo. Look into their eyes today, and tomorrow, and all the tomorrows to come. Every single one. Memorize their faces. Because one day I will take one from you. But like me you won't know when, and it won't be their time. One of them is already dead, I promise you."

The call ends and the room falls into a different sort of silence, tinged with fear once more.