Arranged Control: A Dark Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance By B. B. Hamel NovelM80057 Arranged Control: A Dark Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance (Chapter - 16)

Arranged Control: A Dark Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance By B. B. Hamel

Istand in the back corner of Sistine folding the same stack of shirts over and over again, not really paying much attention to what I’m doing.

It’s a quiet day. At least Finn isn’t lurking around scaring away our customers. A big man with a neck like a tree trunk stopped by a couple of minutes after we opened to introduce himself as my personal guard. He has a thick Scottish accent and didn’t seem like the type to talk much. I haven’t seen him or his team since, which is exactly what I wanted.

I don’t feel safe though.

The note’s in my pocket. I keep touching it as I fold and fold and fold. There are too many unanswered questions, and the more I worry at them, the thicker and heavier my anxiety becomes.

“You know, eventually those shirts are going to crumble to dust.” Kira peers at me from the front counter. She’s frowning slightly.

“What do you mean?”

She mimes tossing dust into the air. “You’re stress folding again.”

“Again? Do I do this a lot?”

“All the time. But this one’s a doozy. I think you’ve been back there for like an hour now.”

I stare at the stack of shirts. “It’s not perfect.”

“It never will be at that rate.”

I force myself to unclench my jaw and step away from the folding table. Kira watches as I come around and slump down onto a stool set out behind her. There’s nobody in the shop except for us, but I feel like I’m being watched all the time.

“Can I tell you something?” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “It’s a huge secret.”

“Oh, yeah? A naughty secret?” Her eyebrows wiggle up and down.

“No, not a fun one, unfortunately. Just the normal boring type of secret.”

“What’s going on?”

I take the note from my pocket and smooth it out on the counter. She stares at the paper, her lips tugging into a deep frown as she reads it, flips it over, and reads it again.

“I found that a couple nights ago. I have no idea where it came from. There was a noise downstairs in my apartment, and when I went to check it out, that note was waiting for me.”

“Seriously?” She stares at the paper like she might be able to see some kind of incriminating DNA. “That’s insanely creepy.”

“I know, right? I don’t understand who would write something like that.”

“And they broke into your apartment to leave it?”

“I think so? I really don’t know where it came from. The more I think about that night, the more I’m wondering if I made the whole thing up and just sleepwalked myself into writing the note.”

Kira grabs a pen and some scrap paper, shoving both at me. “Let’s test that theory.”

I write out the note several times in a bunch of different ways with both hands. None of them look close to the mystery handwriting.

“You know the worst part? Seamus heard me moving around downstairs that night and came to check out what was happening. I meant to tell him about it, but I got, uh, distracted, and I haven’t been able to bring it up since.”

Kira’s eyes brighten and she sits up. “Distracted how, exactly?”

“You don’t need to know the details.”

“Now I absolutely do.”

I feel my cheeks burn bright red. We’ve talked about intimate stuff before, or at least Kira talked about it and I listened, but I suddenly feel strangely vulnerable. It’s not like I broke any rules, right? Sleeping with my husband is basically encouraged.

I’m supposed to be fucking him like a rabbit.

But it still feels wrong for some reason.

“We had, you know—” I push my hands together like I’m miming sex.

“A deep conversation? A firm handshake? Oh, I know, you played charades!”

“No, we did not play charades.”

“Naked charades. And you were miming how to shake a martini.”

I cock my head in confusion. “Shake a martini?”

“You know—” She gestures with both hands, grinning wildly. “Up and down? Up and down? But instead of the martini shaker, you’re jerking his⁠—”

“Got it! Understood!” I cover my face with my hands and laugh hysterically.

Kira grins and keeps on shaking that martini until I beg her to stop. “You guys banged and you forgot about the note.”

“Now it feels like I can’t bring it up. Like if I do, he’ll know I hid it from him and he might get angry. He’s kind of a psycho about keeping me safe right now.”

“I noticed. It’s a little endearing.”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t live with the guy.”

“Seriously though, maybe you should mention it to him. If someone broke into your house, that’s a big deal.”

“He already thinks my apartment is basically a death trap. He’s trying to get me to move to his house in Brooklyn.”

She gasps and covers her mouth with both hands. “Brooklyn?! My god, the man is a total monster.”

“It’s a nice place,” I concede grudgingly.

“Are you gonna do it? I never imagined you’d ever leave the city. Manhattan without Alina is like… pizza without cheese.”

“Lots of people eat pizza without cheese.”

“Disgusting freaks,” she says, utterly deadpan. “They should be thrown in jail.”

“Maybe you’re right though. I don’t want to risk him overreacting and freaking out, but someone did leave me a really creepy note.”

“Bizarre and creepy.”

“I should probably tell him.”

“Just mention the sex distraction. He’ll understand.”

I don’t feel as confident as she does about that. Seamus talks big about being flexible, but from what I’ve seen, that just means he does whatever the hell he wants without worrying too much about other people. That’s fine when you don’t have responsibilities, but he treats me like I’m precious luggage or something.

As the day wears on, I refrain from stress folding. By the time I’m heading back to my apartment, I’ve basically convinced myself that I have to tell him the truth. If I want him to be honest with me and treat me like an equal, I need to show him the same respect.

He’ll understand. Sex can be very diverting and I’m only human. I know he’ll lose his mind and insist we never step foot in my apartment again, but I’ll have to just convince him to see reason.

“Hello?” I call out when I get back to my place. It doesn’t look like he’s around, at least until I get into the living room and look out the window toward my balcony.

And there he is.

My husband’s stretched out on a chair. The sun’s hitting him, making his skin glow. He’s got his eyes closed.

And he’s wearing nothing but the smallest little bathing suit I’ve ever seen in my life.

I gape at him through the window.

It’s obscene. There’s practically a thin layer of spandex between me and his monstrous package. I can see the outline of his cock as it’s lying against his thigh like a resting python. I gaze up at his stomach, at his hips, at his sculpted chest. He’s glistening slightly with sweat. I look at him like a hungry man staring at steak, at least until I realize he’s staring right back at me with a confident, lazy smile on his face.

I’d scream, but that would only make it worse.

He gestures for me to come out there. I want to turn and run instead. Seamus just caught me ogling him like a horny teenager.

But my god. Look at the man. He’s absurd. Nobody should be that fucking hot.

“When did you get home?” he asks with a sigh, stretching his muscular legs and making my heart skip out of rhythm.

“Just a few minutes ago.”

“And you spent them staring at me? How sweet. Glad the romance isn’t dead yet.”

“Romance was never alive to begin with. What are you doing out here?”

“Enjoying your balcony.”

“In that?!” I gesture at the absurd swimwear.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“You’re barely covered.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure my neighbors might.”

“Doubt that.” His smile is lazy and confident. “Pretty sure the old lady next door would gladly keel over of a heart attack just to watch me pick up her keys from the ground in this thing.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I speak the truth, that’s all.”

“Seriously, don’t you have work? Shouldn’t you be doing something other than whatever this is?”

“I’m lounging. And I’m very good at it.” He sighs again, stretching his arms above his head. “Would you like to join me?”

“No, thanks. I’m tired.”

“That’s exactly what lounging was invented for. Go on, strip out of those stuffy clothes and sit with me.”

“This outfit isn’t stuffy. It’s chic and simple.”

“Right, your old lady blouse and boring work slacks really scream fun and hip.”

“I’m not going for either of those, and since when did you get into fashion?”

“Since never. Take off your clothes and join me. Quit being so rigid.”

My jaw tightens. He’s still got that cocky, lazy smile. The bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.

And God help me, it’s working.

“I am not rigid.” I unbutton my blouse. I’m rage-stripping. It’s a bad idea. Wasn’t there something I wanted to talk to him about? Completely forgot already.

“Uptight is a better word.”

“I’m not uptight!” I throw my blouse aside. I’m extremely thankful that I’m wearing cute underwear today. It’s black and lacy, mostly because the blouse was very slightly see-through.

“You have charts explaining your schedule.”

“That’s slander. And it makes no sense.”

“You have twelve different colors of Post-It Notes and they all have different meanings.”

“I’m organized!”

“You’re inflexible.”

“I can be very flexible, actually.” I kick my slacks off and stand before him in my bra and panties. “Happy now?”

His eyes move down my body, and I regret my decision.

“Yes,” he says, staring at me through heavy lids. “Very much.”

That bastard. I swear, he’s getting hard. I can see every freaking detail of his dick getting stiff. Look at the huge thing. Getting all swollen just because I’m standing here in my bra and panties. It’s so pathetic.

And so fucking hot.

Wasn’t there something I had to discuss?

An important matter?

One I wasn’t supposed to forget…

“Come here.” He gestures for me.

“I thought we were lounging together.”

“There’s only one chair.”

“Oh. Right. That’s a good point.” I chew my lip for a second. “Maybe I should lounge inside.”

“Come here, Alina. I want your pretty ass in my lap.”

“And if the neighbors hear?”

“Then we’ll give them a show. Come here, princess, right now. Or does that break one of your ten thousand rules?”

“I don’t have ten thousand rules,” I say, heart racing, skin prickling with goosebumps. Arousal floods my core. This is a very bad idea.

“You’re right. It’s easily ten times that many. You have a new rule for every hour of every day.”

“I know what you’re doing.” I glare at him, arms hugging myself and covering my breasts. “You’re goading me.”

“Into what, exactly?”

“You’re trying to goad me into having sex with you, but it won’t work.”

His eyebrows raise. He casually places one hand on top of his hard cock at the very base. He doesn’t stroke. He doesn’t grip. His hand only rests there, drawing more attention to his massive shaft.

“I don’t need to do that.”

“But here we are anyway. You were lying out here waiting for me, weren’t you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh my god, you really were.”

Annoyance flickers across his face. “I thought I told you to come here, princess.”

“And now I’m starting to realize you want me even more than I want you.” I could laugh, but it’s not funny. It only turns me on even more.

“You’re admitting you want me?”

“I took off my freaking clothes pretty easily, didn’t I?”

“Then stop talking and come get in my lap.”

“Admit that I’m not rigid.” I stalk closer and let my arms fall away. His eyes move to my breasts and back to my face again. He licks his lips and I see a crack in his facade. I’m trying not to grin, but I love this.

“That’s like telling water it’s not wet. Like you’re wet right now.”

“Doesn’t matter how soaking I am.” I stand beside him, hands clasped behind my back, arching myself toward him. I’m not even being subtle and he clearly likes it. “Admit that I’m not stuck-up.”

“You want your husband to lie to you?”

“I want you to say it.”

He stares at me and I stare right back. His dick is completely hard now, practically ripping through that ridiculous bathing suit.

And I’m dripping with arousal. I could throw myself on my knees and swallow his cock and die happy right about now.

But if someone’s going to break, it’s going to be him.

“I think you’re inflexible, unyielding, prudish, formal, stilted, and fucking beautiful. I think about filling your pretentious mouth with my thick, filthy cock all fucking day long. I dream about fucking your sloppy wet cunt until all your puritanical bullshit floods away in waves of orgasm, pleasure, and cum. Now stop being such a pain in my ass and get in my fucking lap, princess, before I stand up, bend you over that balcony railing, and fuck you for the whole city to see.”

My mouth drops open.

Holy shit.

I’ve never been talked to like that in my life.

I should be insulted. He called me puritanical. There’s nothing puritanical about me!

But instead of being mad, I drop to my knees.

Lean forward.

Grab the hem of his stupid bathing suit.

And rip it forward until his cock springs free.

He lets out a low moan when I take him in my mouth. I lean forward over him, sucking, breasts swaying. I let my spit roll down his dick, sloppy and wet. I don’t use my hands, only my mouth and tongue, listening to the dirty sounds it makes and his groans of bliss. I go deep and pull back, gasping, and stare at him in the face.

“I love your taste,” I say quietly. “There’s nothing filthy about it.”

The expression on his face is pure victory.

He’s stunned.

I take his dick in my mouth and suck him more. I know he’s winning too and I don’t care. This is what he wanted. But it’s also what I want.

I choke and stroke, sucking desperately, until he finally pulls me up into his lap. I straddle him, arching my pussy down against his hard dick. His wet shaft rubs against my panties as he kisses me, hungry and desperate, tongue lapping against my teeth. I moan into that kiss, grinding down until he teases my pussy with his fingers.

“Suck my cock, drool and moan, make it wet and dirty all you want, princess, but you’re still just a stuck-up bratva doll begging to get filled, fucked, and ruined.” He pushes my panties aside, thrusts himself forward, and drives his dick into my pussy. “And you’ll always be my fucking toy.”

He rips into me. I grind back against him. The lounge chair rattles against the balcony as we fuck like animals. His hands are in my hair, his mouth on my lips, and I buck down along his shaft over and over again. I don’t care who hears us. I don’t even know my stupid neighbors.

All I want is him. Seamus, my bastard husband. He thinks I’m so buttoned-up? He thinks I’m just formal and stilted?

He can go to hell.

I ride his dick, every single inch of it. He kisses me, fisting my hair, moaning into my mouth.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” I gasp, pushing back harder. I’m half sure the chair’s about to break. I kind of hope it does. “Oh my god, keep going.”

“I knew there was a goddess under all those layers of schedules and lists. Under all those strict rules, you’re just a filthy fucking slut waiting to be filled up, isn’t that right?”

“God, yes. Fill me. Use me. Make me come.”

“That’s right, princess. You’ll break for me. You’ll shatter like the dirty fucking girl you are. Tell me you want it.”

“I want it so badly.”

“Tell me you’re filthy.”

“I’m filthy, Seamus. I’m all yours.”

“This pussy is all mine.” He grips my ass and rams into me. We hit a rhythm and I’m right on the edge. My lips are tingling and my head’s a mess. Dimly, I’m aware that I’m doing it again. But I’m not sure what it is and don’t really care.

“Come for me,” he whispers, gripping my hair tight. “Come for your husband, you filthy fucking slut.”

My triggers fully pull and that’s all I need.

The orgasm rips into my core. I can barely breathe as he keeps fucking me. I go boneless and weak as bliss tears me in half. It feels so good I can barely speak, and he keeps going. When the orgasm peaks and begins to pass, I pull back, gasping for breath. Sweat rolls down his perfect chest.

“Mouth,” he commands. “Right now.” I slip off him, dropping to my knees. “That’s a good girl. Lick me clean. Suck me now.”

I taste myself on his shaft as I whimper and suck, his right hand gripping the base of his shaft, but he barely lasts a few seconds before he’s coming in my mouth. I swallow him, moaning, and lovingly clean his shaft when he’s done.

“That’s such a good girl,” he whispers, pulling me into his lap again, big arms wrapped around my body. “Such a good girl.”

I snuggle into his chest, grinning.

Wasn’t there something we had to talk about?

Doesn’t matter.