Bad Little Bride

“There is cause for concern.”

Dragging my eyes away from my bride and that fuckhead, Galley, who I might have to fry later for looking her in the eye, I move my gaze back to Torin.

“Explain.”

Torin sits back, one leg propped against the other, a glass of whiskey in his hand. “The firewall they set up. Bronx obliterated it in twelve seconds.”

“Did you not say she’s better than you were at her age?”

“She is my daughter. She will be better than all who came before her.” His smirk is smug, but quickly wiped away. “However, it took my entire team seventeen days to find a name to so much as link to the attack that left you in Costa Rica this last time, and that was but a name.”

My eyes narrow, waiting as his second passes mine a folder.

“If that took seventeen days,” Torin continues, “how is it my daughter hacked into their system in twelve seconds and found all of this?” He inclines his head toward the folder as Mino opens and reads over the documents.

Mino’s eyes meet mine, his jaw clenching. He doesn’t have to tell me what it is, we’ll go over that later, but his reaction confirms Torin’s insinuation.

“They wanted this found. Why?”

He shrugs. “We’re even now, son.” Sitting back, he touches the flame of his Zippo to the tip of his freshly cut cigar. “The rest is up to you.”

I jerk my head in response, and Mino hands the man his payment.

We settle in our seats, and I return my gaze to my bride.

She’s smiling. Laughing.

She’s smiling and laughing, and it’s not pointed at me.

“I take it the courting period isn’t going so well?” Torin’s tone has a hint of mockery.

Slowly, I slide my eyes his way, my expression blank. The man knows me well enough. Even before I let go of my plans for Rayo Revenaw, he and I had a working…understanding.

He understood I could cut him off at the ankles if he didn’t extend his hand to me when I reached for it, and I understood he was but an old man holding on to his legacy with both hands until his daughter took her place as the head of it. We are not the same, but he was smart enough to know you don’t piss on the wolf when he’s a born hunter.

Everyone in this world has a particular skill, and where the Galley family is my go-to for private investigation of living flesh, the Bandonis are the shadows behind keyboards, expert hackers with endless reach.

Torin dips his chin in respect or apology, I don’t know or care, and his lips curve when my features don’t change. “You like her.”

“She is my fiancée.”

“One might say she’s like a second daughter to me.”

“One might be wrong. She’s nothing to you.” Torin is simply the father of Boston’s sister’s best friend. He’s the father of a Greyson girl, and Boston isn’t one.

She is nothing to him and more importantly, he is nothing to her.

Torin grins wider. “And you like her,” he repeats himself. “I don’t have to tell you this, but that could be dangerous for you both.”

I don’t comment because there is no reason to. I can protect what’s mine. I wouldn’t run the nation’s most notable security corporation if I couldn’t.

He looks over at the girls’ table. “My daughter will marry a man she hates. I’ll be sure of it. To protect her.” He pauses a moment. “Speaking of…” he grumbles and I look over, my brows snapping together when I spot the familiar grinning asshole.

Hayze fucking Garrett.

I scoot forward on my seat, eyes narrowing.

“Hayze fucking Garrett.” Torin mimics my thought. “Pain in the fucking ass. Impulsive. Arrogant.” He sighs. “And fucking brilliant, the backwoods bastard.”

I trail him with my eyes, noticing the way he dips down close to Bronx and the complete disregard she hits him with.

“You said protector.”

“Mm.” Torin nods, blowing smoke into the space between us. “She’s fought me long enough and with the turn of the tides in our world, with Rocklin and Delta now both spoken for, and with the fourth Greyson girl still missing, Bronx is most likely to be a target, should someone foolishly decide to make her one.”

I look away a moment, lifting my glass to my lips before facing him again, focusing on the simplest part of his statement and not the part that would raise questions. “You really think Bastian will give up the only man he brought with him when he took over?”

Torin considers this, glaring across the room a moment before nodding. “Sacrifice is the first thing men in this world learn, be it the easy or the hard way. He knows what his position means. He will do what’s right. The real question is…” He glances my way. “Will you?”

I watch him closely, just as he does me, and tip my head. “I suggest you tell me what you’re referring to.”

The man smiles but says nothing. I hold his gaze a moment longer before looking toward Boston.

Her eyes lock on mine, a bratty glint within them I can’t miss, even from thirty feet away.

She is so fucking gorgeous when she stares at me like this.

Hell, she’s gorgeous when she breathes, but there is something about the dare in her dirty little glare that makes my body burn. I want to take her and toss her onto the table right there, fuck her in front of everyone so they can see how truly she is mine, document claiming so be damned.

Boston Revenaw was made to be mine.

I need no legal binding to tell me so. She just fucking is. Every bratty bit of her.

Her eyes narrow slightly and my cock jolts in my slacks, but then something catches my attention.

And apparently Torin’s at the same time as he says, “I suggest you get over there, before your fiancée becomes someone else’s wife.”

But I’m already on my feet and her eyes have left mine to meet his.

Torin’s laughter rings behind me and Mino’s shadow is on my heels.

I stare at the blond-headed bitch, biting down on my molars until the familiar taste of copper coats my mouth. I let that shit run down my throat and quicken my steps.

He’s three feet away where I’m five.

He’s going to touch her.

He’s going to touch her, and I will fucking kill him, cut him at the wrist and beat him with his own hands before shoving them down his throat and watching him gag on his own middle finger.

“Careful,” Mino attempts to warn, to remind me where we are—on neutral ground in another man’s club – but it’s too late.

His skin. It met hers.

Music blasts around us, but all I hear is the beat of my pulse, egging me on, growing louder and louder like the hype of a crowd ready for the big fucking finale.

“Wait, Enzo, don’t!” someone shouts.

I take the wineglass from her hand, break it against his temple, and jab the jagged stem right into his neck, all before the bitch can blink.

Wide eyes find mine, his hand closing over my wrist, and I smile down at him, driving him backward until he’s on his ass with me leaning over him.

People scream and shout, some laugh, and I see the wave of security barreling this way.

I don’t move, I give him nothing but me to look at as I drive the glass in deeper.

“You really think you deserve her? Look at you, on your fucking knees, bleeding like a bitch.” I get in his face, seething and seeing red, and it has nothing to do with the blood running down my forearm. “I should kill you right here for touching what belongs to me. All I’d have to do is move two centimeters to the left and you’d be a bag of fucking bones before anyone could even think to help you.”

Anger finally slips over his eyes, but he can’t hide the fear in his tone. “Fuck you.”

“I’d rather fuck my fiancée.”

“Okay, let’s take a step back.” Mino slips closer, and I begin to remove my hand from the glass so he can hold it still.

Philip’s nostrils flare, but he’s starting to shake. “You’re a prick.”

“Stop talking before you make this worse,” Mino warns, but Philip ignores him.

“She should have never found her way to you,” he fumes, chest heaving.

My lips curve into a slow, wide smile. “Yet she’s still mine.”

His eyes narrow and I wait for a reason, but I don’t have to wait long. The punk is weak-minded, and the words fall from his trembling fucking lips with venom. “For now.”

“Ah fuck.”

“Oh shit.”

“Dumbass.”

I don’t know who says what, but it’s all spoken at the same time, right along with the warning shout from across the room.

I ignore them all, yanking the stem from Philip’s neck and watching as he panics, pressing his palm to the wound as it begins to gush five times faster.

One of the first things you learn in this world is, never remove the weapon from the wound…unless it’s your weapon and the wound is one you inflicted.

Philip struggles to his feet, and security rushes in, but they aren’t here for me, no, they wouldn’t dare. They take the bleeding bastard by the arms, swiftly dragging him down the dark hall.

The moment he’s out of eyesight, I blink, and it’s like a switch is flicked, all the surrounding sounds come back at once. The music still blasts from the speakers, the partygoers downstairs completely unaware and continuing like nothing happened while the VIP lounge stares this way with varying expressions.

Mino glares from me to the hall. “He might bleed out.”

“We can hope.”

“If he does, we’ll have a new problem on our hands.”

I snap my head his way, and he closes his mouth, lifting his hands in the air.

I turn toward my bride, unsure of what I’ll find once I do, and admittedly, a bit surprised when she’s simply slunk back against the velvety booth, new wineglass already in hand.

She takes a small sip, everyone around the table silently staring between us, waiting to see what comes next.

Boston simply pops a brow before turning toward Damiano, the pretty blond boy whose file just so happens to be sitting on the top of the stack on my desk this very second.

“You were saying?” she deadpans.

My eyes narrow, slicing to his when a scoff leaves him, and he shakes his head.

“A bet’s a bet.” He reaches in his pocket, dropping a few blue bills on the tabletop.

I look to Boston in question, but her frown is now pointed behind me, so I follow her line of sight.

Bronx is laughing, spelling her name in the bloody mess on the floor with her bare toes, the cleaning crew standing back with mops and a rolling cart, waiting off to the side for her to…be done?

“The fuck is she doing?” Mino mutters.

“Painting.” It’s Hayze who answers.

When I glance his way, it’s as if he’s in some sort of trance, his eyes glued on the girl.

And Torin thinks he’ll make a good guardian.

I’m the one who scoffs this time, but Boston’s low laugh has my mouth clamping shut. I yank my head her way and the satisfaction that came from putting Philip in his place goes out the window.

Why do men keep talking to her like they can?

Nicholas Galley is propped on the edge of the cushion near her, leaning over and whispering something that has her hiding her smile in her glass.

It’s a wide smile, one that has the edges of her green eyes curving, making her even more alluring. She’s the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.

It’s also as equally excruciating as it is infuriating.

She’s mine, so why the fuck is she smiling at another man?

I dart forward, but as if sensing me coming, her leg shoots out, pointed straight at me, her toe pressing right into my cock as she hauls her glass back. “I don’t think so.” She glares.

I lean as forward as I’m able with her knee locked straight, running the tips of my fingers up the length of her calf, my mouth watering at the silkiness of her skin. Fuck, I’m dying to feel her all over. By the way her chest rises, she wants the same.

“Are you protecting him, fiancée?”

“She’s not,” Nicholas rushes, but we both ignore him.

“What will you do if I say yes?” she dares, playing along in this little “stoke the fire” game we’ve found ourselves in.

“Give your friend a lot bigger of a puddle to play in.”

Her eyes pop over to Bronx, coming back just as fast.

In the second, Nicholas jumps several spaces away. “I’m innocent.”

“Don’t try me, Galley. I wanted to put a bullet through your balls for looking her in the eye from four feet away, imagine what I want to do to you now that you’ve sat beside her.”

“Come on now, boss. I was just talking to a friend,” he teases.

“He’s fired people for less,” Boston pipes in with a grin, but it quickly falls, and she drops her leg. “Wait, boss?” She shifts back, head yanking from me to him. “Boss?”

Nicholas swallows, swiftly looking my way, and Boston pushes to her feet.

“What do you mean, boss, Nick?”

My eyes narrow. “Nick?” I don’t realize I’m stepping closer until my chest is pressed to Boston’s shoulder. “Why is she calling you by a nickname, Nicholas?”

“He’s my friend,” she snaps, pressing against my chest.

“You don’t have friends, Boston, and I sure as hell never gave him permission to be yours.”

Those big green eyes fly to mine, and she tries to tear away, but my hand snaps out, latching onto her wrist to keep her there.

“I wasn’t trying to cause problems,” Nicholas says, backing away, only to slam into Mino, who places himself right behind him. “Fuck,” he mumbles, dropping his chin in defeat.

“Tell me, fiancée,” I hiss into her ear. “How friendly are you with Mr. Galley, here?”

“That is none of your business.”

“Everything to do with you is my business. You belong to me.”

Boston’s temper flares, and a dark little shadow sparks to life in her eyes. Her chin lifts, and when she speaks, she damn near yells for everyone to hear. “For now.”

Rage, hot and swift, shoots through me like a shot of energy into the vein. My blood boils over in an instant, flushing through my entire body until I’m but bottled lava ready to blow.

She has no idea the damage she’s just caused.

I take her by the hip and throw her over my shoulder, leaving Mino to deal with the little fucking traitor, and carry her ass out.

The car is already there when I approach, my men ripping open the door so I can toss her inside.

Boston growls in anger, and when she picks herself up off the seat, turning to face me with fire in her eyes, her mouth opens to tear into me, but I beat her bratty ass, shoving my bandana between her lips, before yanking out a second, binding it around her face the way my men wear theirs.

She snarls against the fabric and when her hands fly up in an attempt to remove the gag, I take them both in mine, looping the seat belt around her wrists and tugging it until it locks her in place.

She kicks, and I tear her shoes off, tossing them to the floor.

I crawl over her, anger pulsing through me at an uncontrolled rate.

It’s not until I’m directly over her, hovering above her glorious fucking body, that she settles slightly, staring up at me with the promise of her wrath.

Little does she know I want it.

I want all of her. Her anger and fear. Her happy and sad. Her hard and goddamn, do I crave her softness. I’ve yet to see it, not truly, but I know it’s in there and I want to break it free with the rest of what she holds back from me.

But we’ll get to that later.

“Listen and listen well, Boston Fikile. I own you. There is no for now, maybe, or a little bit. Every single part of you is mine. Today, tomorrow, and even when I die, you will still be mine. I’ll be the ghost at your back, Little Bride, so the sooner you come to terms with that, the better.”

Her eyes narrow, but she can’t hide the flush creeping up her neck.

She likes what she’s hearing, even if she doesn’t realize it. Or won’t admit it.

“Unfortunately, because of that little scene you just caused in there, I’m going to have to do something drastic.” Her eyes narrow further, and she wriggles around, yanking at her wrists.

I drop all my weight on her. “Stop. Pulling.” I frown down at her. “If you make so much as a mark on those perfect little wrists, I’ll do something about it. If you stay still, no marks will be left behind.”

She stares at me with a strange expression, but it’s when she shifts again that I realize the position I’ve put us in.

I’m right on top of her, and I see the moment she recognizes what being near her does to me. I’m hard. Rock fucking solid and pressed against her soft stomach.

My little wife’s throat bobs and I imagine it’s my cock she’s swallowing. Heat zips down my spine and my dick jumps, trying to get closer to the one thing he wants.

Boston pulls in a full breath through her nose, and I don’t miss when she squeezes her thick thighs together.

“I should punish you,” I rasp, shifting my hips the slightest bit, letting her feel what belongs to her. “You spoke to four men tonight. Four men got to look in these…glorious fucking eyes.” I run my knuckles up her cheek. “I should blind them all for that.” She’s so fucking soft. “I think I might.”

Boston’s chest inflates and I drop my gaze to the swell of her breasts. The dress she’s wearing tonight, it’s perfection. A deep burgundy, dipped just the right amount and curling around her shoulders like a second skin. It’s tight along her torso but loose just beyond her hips, and with her lying back like this, I’d bet if I looked down, it would be pooled around her panty line.

“You can’t smile at another man. It makes me fucking crazy, especially when I’ve yet to earn one of my own.” I drop my face into her neck, breathing her in. “Not that any of those assholes are real men. They’re boys, Boston. And in case you haven’t realized it yet…” I press into her, and the little muffled gasp that escapes her has me growling into her, “I’m a fucking man.”

I lift my head, my need overflowing, and it only gets worse when I stare down at my bride. “My cock is aching, Little Bride. I need to ease it.”

Boston’s nostrils flare, her eyes flicking down, but she can’t see anything, so back up they come. I bring my face inches from hers, whispering against the bandana, “Tell me I can.”

She shudders and a moan escapes me. Her eyes clench closed and when they snap open again, it’s with a little nod.

So I ease back in the seat, positioning myself just as she is but on the opposite side of the car, my back half pressed to the door, half pressed against the seat.

I lift my hips, the clank of my belt as it comes undone sending a shiver down her glorious body.

My eyes fall to her waist, where, sure enough, her dress is piled, the tiniest hint of her matching panties staring back at me. My tongue slides along my lower lip as I reach inside my pants, wrapping my hand around my cock.

I groan at the contact, my eyes flying up to meet hers.

But hers have fallen, lasered in on where my hand disappeared. I slowly start to ease myself free, watching as her chest rises, her muscles bunching in anticipation, and then I jerk forward, removing the bandanas and tying one over her eyes.

Her jaw falls open, not having expected that. “Are you serious?!” she hisses.

My chuckle’s low and dark. “What’s the matter, baby?” I tease, taking my cock in my hand once more. “Did you want to watch?”

“Fuck off.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I start to stroke myself, dropping my head back against the window. “Can I look at you while I do?”

Her mouth opens but snaps closed quickly. “You’re unbelievable.”

I grip my cock in a tight fist, trying to relieve some of the ache. “Yes or no?”

Her lips press together in a hard line, and I’m about to look away, to close my eyes and fuck myself to the sound of her breathing, to the smell of her around me, but then ever so slowly, her thighs part.

I groan, long and loud, and her knees start to shake, like she’s nervous she’s on display, unsure of what I’m looking at or what I can see.

So I ease her mind a little, while driving my own wild. “Love those panties,” I rasp, sliding my hand up and down my dick, once, twice. “I want to tear them off with my teeth, see what’s hiding underneath. Fuck, I want to slide inside you, nice and slow.” I pump faster. “My cock is so hard, and it’s getting harder thinking about it. I want to be buried in you.” I fuck my hand faster, my hips jolting forward.

She feels my shifting on the seat and her head falls back, her small pants like music to my ears, though she tries to swallow beyond the need building inside her.

“I’m imagining it right now. How hot you’d be, hot, silky, and sweet.” I moan, my eyes trying to close, but I keep them locked on her. “Are you sweet?” I ask her. “Have you tasted yourself?”

“Stop talking.”

“Can’t.” Her nipples harden beneath the material of her dress, and I bite into my lower lip, tasting the copper there. My hand moves faster, my dick en-fucking-gorged. “All I can think about is your cunt sucking me dry. I would fuck you all night. Until you couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.”

Her lips part and I keep my eyes locked on her mouth as my hand moves up and down my shaft, twisting and slamming back into my balls and yanking up the length.

“Come here,” she snaps suddenly, and my eyes fly to hers, forgetting for a moment they’re hidden from my view, but then her tongue slips out.

I understand in an instant and the heat in my groin doubles.

I lean over, pressing my hand to the edge of her mouth.

My wife, my gorgeous, elegant, graceful fucking girl…she spits. Right into my palm, her tongue sliding along the edge of my pinkie to give me every last bit she can.

My chest rumbles, and when I look down at my dick, precum leaks from the tip, but I hold back a moment, leaning up to press my lips to her ear. “Thank you, Little Bride. This is going to make it so much better for me.”

Her head turns, and my muscles lock.

She doesn’t say it, but she wants me to stay right here, where she can feel the heat of my breath, the anticipation of my mouth so fucking close to her skin. So that’s exactly what I do.

I grip my dick, fucking my palm with the help of her spit, and the sound that fills the space is enough to lock me up.

“Even your spit feels like fucking heaven, sliding along my cock, just like your tongue would.” I speak into her neck, and she tilts it wider for me.

“I want to move your panties to the side, slip inside you and ruin these seats, but I’ll settle for ruining the dress instead.”

I pump my cock fiercely, moaning into her skin but keeping the contact to nothing but the heat of my breath. The louder I get, the more she starts to fidget, and I know if I reached down, her thong would have a wet spot right where I want it to be.

The thought alone sends me over the edge.

“I’m gonna come now.” My dick throbs, my muscles clenching, and then I explode, thick white ropes squirting from the tip, right into my waiting fist. I use my free hand to release her wrists, and wait for her to tear the bandana from her face the same instant she’s freed.

She looks up, face so close to my own, she can’t peek down at my dick if she tried. Eyes on hers, I swipe my hands across her thighs, her neck, and then her cheeks before running them along the length of her dress as I ease them back down her thighs.

“I’ve marked you now.” I hold her gaze. “My cum is all over your skin. Smile at another man and the next time I come all over you…I will do it as he watches with chains around his body and a gun to his head. And then I’ll pull the trigger.”

With that, I climb out of the vehicle, sweeping a hand out to invite her to head inside first.

She blinks, then blinks again before shaking her head with a scoff. She darts from the vehicle, giving me a wide berth as she passes me, too afraid of what she might do if she let her body touch mine without being forced to keep those hands off me.

I do my best not to laugh at the jerky, pissy way she walks, knowing damn well she’s pent up and pent up good.

Boston rushes inside, past my men and into the foyer, down the hall until she reaches the stairs.

She stops there, hand on the railing, head yanking over her shoulder until her eyes collide with mine.

Anger and so much fucking more stare back at me, and then she starts to run, bare feet slapping against the steps, each little thump playing like the tick of a toy, cranking up and up and up until my cock stands at attention all over again, watching her flee like she can escape me.

She can’t.

She will never.

I wait until she’s a quarter of the way up, and then I give her what she has no idea she wants.

I give chase, catching her halfway and hooking my hand around her waist.

She grumbles, then gasps when I spin and shove her against the curved window not so gently.

Those gorgeous green eyes fly to mine, narrowing, but that anger melts to something else when I simply slip closer, leaving her two steps above me, so we’re nearly eye level.

My hand squeezes her hip, and she swallows, doing all she can to keep her glare firm, but the fervor between us is palpable.

I need to feed that flame.

I want it to rage around me, to suffocate in her heat and choke on the wildfire that is her.

I want to walk into her fucking inferno.

More than that, I want my wife to want me the way I long for her, and not just because she’s turned on. But because I’m me and she’s her, and together?

Fuck.

“You were a bad little bride tonight.” My hands slide a little higher, pausing just below what would be her bra line…if she were wearing one. She isn’t, and that thought alone has me turning to steel in my slacks all over again. “In fact, you’ve been bad more than you’ve been good since you got home.”

“This isn’t my⁠—”

“Careful,” I warn. “Wouldn’t want to piss off your husband when he’s about to make you come.”

“I—” She cuts off. “What?”

“You heard me.” My eyes travel over her collarbone, imagining all of the ways I want to run my tongue across her skin before snapping up to meet her. “You didn’t really think I’d get you worked up and only care for myself, did you?”

She says nothing, but her heavy breathing speaks volumes.

“I’ll count to three, give you time to decide if you want to walk away, but before we start the clock, I should tell you, I saw the page you marked in your latest little love book.”

Her cheeks pinken the prettiest fucking shade, and I lean forward, pressing my lips to her ear. “I memorized everything he did to her…and I want to do it to you, see if you like what you read as much as you think you do.”

Her chest heaves, and as I pull back, I find that gorgeous green is nearly hidden now, dark irises staring back at me.

Her teeth sink into her lower lip, and my cock cries in jealousy. I want to take that lip between my teeth and bite, slide my shaft over the welt I’ll leave behind before sliding down her throat and begging to feel those teeth scrape across me as she swallows me deep into that long, delicate neck.

Boston’s gentle hands come up then, latching onto my shoulders, her chin lifting as she pushes on me, but she doesn’t push me away like I thought she might.

No, my bride surprises me in the best possible way when instead of shoving me away, she shoves me down. I go fucking willingly, mouth watering when my queen says but one word as my knees meet the step, her blonde brow raised high. “Three.”

My entire fucking being tingles, an electric shock-like feeling starting at the base of my skull and zapping down to my feet.

I’m on my knees in front of my wife, and I’m about to make her fucking scream.