Perfect Monster: A Fake Marriage Mafia Romance (The Oligarchs)

Blood ran off his hands in pink streams. He stood in the shower, letting the water blast off his skin. I lingered in his bathroom, touching the spots on his shirt.

“You can’t wash this out,” I said, holding up the stained jacket. “There’s too much of it.”

“Burn the damn thing. I don’t care.”

“Easy for you to say. There are starving people in Africa that would gladly, uh, wear this suit, I guess.”

“Then send it to Africa.” But he smiled.

“What happened out there?”

He ran his fingers through his wet hair. I tried not to look at his muscular body, at his long, thick cock and the way the water dripped off him in sensual rivulets, but it was very, very hard.

Difficult, I mean.

“I started a war.” He spoke like it was no big deal, like he was ordering pizza on a Tuesday night. “A lot of people are going to die.” He turned off the shower.

I handed him a towel. “Isn’t that bad?”

“These aren’t nice people.”

“Still, killing’s not good.”

“It’s relative.” He mussed up his hair then wrapped it around his waist. “Manzi’s dead.”

I went very still.

I could taste the musky air that night. The bay teemed with life and rotting plants. The boards under my feet creaked with my weight. The salty, icy wind blew through my stiff hair.

And Dia’s skull shattered beneath the bullet.

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure. Pulled the trigger myself.” He reached up and brushed his thumb across my lower lip. “You liked her, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know her at all, but she had this confidence.”

“I met Dia twice. You’re right, she was confident, probably too confident for the sort of men she kept around.”

“What’s that mean?”

He walked past me into his room and got dressed. I wished he wouldn’t, but leaned against the bathroom door and watched.

“Mafioso aren’t known for their liberal ideas about gender equality. Dia fucked around too much and got killed for it. She thought her good looks and charm and her daddy’s stature in the Ramos Cartel would keep her alive, and she was wrong. Confidence is good, but overconfidence can get you killed.”

“So you’re suggesting she deserved it then? She asked for it?”

He shook his head. “Of course not. I’m saying you can learn from Dia’s mistake.”

“Why? Do you plan on killing me if I speak up too much?”

He sighed and wiped a hand down his face. “I’m trying to teach you something here. If you’re going to be in a room with a certain kind of person, be aware of what they expect from you. Play into those expectations and don’t do anything dangerous. Then, if you want to, you can use their own blindness against them. Play the game and play it better. Dia was too confident to bother with any of that, and she ended up dead.”

He pulled on a pair of loose cotton trousers and a tight V-neck shirt that showed off his muscular chest. His hair was still damp and messy and his skin glistened in the light.

“Why do I need to know any of this?” I asked softly, my heart in my throat, beating away so fast I thought I might choke. “We’re not really married. You’re not trying to turn me into a mob wife.”

He tilted his head. “What if I am?”

“We didn’t discuss that.”

“Maybe I want to keep you now.”

I clenched my jaw. “You told me you wanted to get close to Oisin. You said you needed me for that. I promised I’d play along, but we never said it would last forever. Only until Oisin was dead.”

“We never said when the game would end, my little doll.” He came forward me but I pushed him away and tried to get past. He caught my wrist and pushed me down onto the bed, and I let out a pissed-off snarl and kicked him in the chest. He laughed, knocking my feet away, and crawled up on top of me.

I fought, struggled, and I ended up pinned down on my stomach, my hands behind my back, his lips next to my throat.

“Why are you doing this?” I said through my teeth.

“Because I there’s nothing sweeter than a tight, wet pussy after I’ve killed a man, and yours is best when you’re nice and angry.”

“You fucking asshole. So you’re pissing me off on purpose just so you can fuck me?”

His fingers moved up my legs. I wore a pair of shorts and thin black panties beneath them. My stomach twisted with fear and desire.

“That’s exactly right.”

“It doesn’t normally work like that.”

“Then stop me.” He sounded like he enjoyed my fight. His one hand kept me pinned and the other teased my pussy, moving up and down my mound before yanking my shorts down.

I gasped, tossed my head back. He chuckled darkly as his fingers pushed aside my panties and ran up and down my swollen, soaked lips.

“You love to act like you don’t want this, my little doll, but every time I strip you bare, I keep finding you soaking wet.”

“I want you to say you won’t force me to stay married to you forever.” I spoke through my jaw because otherwise I’d let out big, low moans of pleasure. He slipped his fingers inside of me, not being gentle, then spanked my ass.

I gasped and bit my lip so hard I thought it might bleed.

“I can’t say that. I like you Cassie. I want to keep playing with you.”

“This isn’t a game.”

He spanked me again, kissed my neck, bit my earlobe. “But I think it is.” Then sank his fingers inside.

I moaned, biting down against the sheets. I felt his pressure ease and looked back as he pulled down his pants, his cock long and stiff. He pressed it against my aching, gaping pussy, teasing me with his head, and I tried to get away, but he pinned me down again. He spread my legs with his knees and sunk himself deep inside.

I gasped at the flash of incredible pain and bliss. He filled me from behind, my body pinned to the mattress, and he let out an animal growl of pleasure. He spanked my ass and slowly fucked me in and out, cock driving harder and deeper, and I tried hard to keep my mouth shut.

I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making me come.

But god, it felt so good. Especially when I struggled. I loved that he could push me down, and that he did with ease. I needed him to pin me, hold me down, and fuck me like an animal, to make me feel more pleasure than I’d ever felt before.

And as his cock stroked in and out, and he spanked my ass cheeks raw, I kept thinking about staying here forever in his bunker, living my days as his wife, hidden from the world but given everything I desired—pampered, spoiled, pleasured like a goddess, like a worshipped house cat. He’d bring me anything I needed and keep me safe, and at night he’d fuck me raw and vicious, make me come and scream his name, and the fantasy was equally arousing and revolting.

I was supposed to want something more—my freedom, a job, independence, something. Instead, I wanted this man, his cock, his arms and lips and throat and teeth and tongue, I wanted him to pin me and fuck me, I wanted him to spoil me and tease me, and most of all, I wanted his power, I wanted all the things he could provide and more, because otherwise I was some server in a sleepy beach town for the rest of my life, a nobody with nothing to do and nowhere to go, a broken shell of a human.

But with Roman, I was alive.

He could give me that.

I started moving my hips. I slid down his shaft and pushed back against him. He groaned as I got my knees under me and lifted my pussy and ass into the air. He spanked me rough, but I kept going, working my back and legs and bucking against him, pushing harder and harder, taking him deeper inside and moaning with a reckless fury, so angry that he’d dare keep me longer than we agreed, and so needy for his thick cock. I was dizzy, confused, wrapped up in his luxury, in his intoxicating presence, in his strength.

My fingers dug into the sheets. He released my arms and I kept going, faster, panting, gasping, sweating, working. He grabbed my hair hard and spanked me, again and again, and we fucked, rough and raw, slick and gorgeous, and the world outside was gone, the blood under his fingernails an afterthought, the stained clothes in the bathroom didn’t matter.

I came on his shaft, throwing my head back. He came a moment later, filling me with his heat, and I groaned and begged for him to keep going, I wanted it deep between my legs, I was stupid and mindless, and falling into a hole of more bliss, until slowly we crawled back out together and he wrapped his arms around me.

I nuzzled against his chest. Pleased, contained.

“Good girl.” He kissed my forehead. “Do you know how much I love to be inside of you?”

“About as much as I like it, I bet.”

“Oh, little doll, even more.” He breathed deep, smelling me. “You can leave when this is all over, I won’t stop you, but I think you won’t want to go. Life outside will be dull and worthless. You already make my days brighter.”

“Pretty words for such a monster.”

“Even monsters can say the right thing sometimes.” He chewed on my lip.

There was a knock at the door.

He sighed, like a bear releasing a pent-up breath.

“What?” he called.

“It’s me. We need to talk.” Erick’s voice outside the door.

He must’ve waited until we were done. I felt myself blush.

Roman kissed me and got out of bed. He dressed as I crawled under the sheets and covered myself completely. I heard the door open and a soft conversation. Then he left and the door shut behind him.

He wanted to keep me.

Forever.

Except I wondered: how long could he possibly want me, really?

Sooner or later he’d get bored.

And then what would I be?

Attached to a man that didn’t care.

I never asked for any of this. And now it felt like I had no other choice but to follow him down this path and pray.