Page 43 of Dark Breaker

As we take pictures, Nicolo bends toward me and whispers in my ear. “Hey bro, did you cut yourself?”

I give him a questioning look, and he makes a wiping motion at the edge of his mouth.

I dab that area with a finger and when I pull it away I see blood. Great. I glare at Rosa.

Thanks a bunch, She-devil!

I hurry to the church bathroom, hiding my lips with one hand, and when I arrive I swish water around in my mouth and spit out a stream of red liquid. I do that a few times until the liquid is clear, then examine my throbbing tongue in the mirror.

It’s a nasty bite, but I don’t think I’ll need stitches. Lucky for Rosa.

I wipe my lips with a paper towel, and by the time I return to the wedding party the pain has pretty much numbed. I still have a mild taste of copper on my tongue, though.

Rosa gives me a guilty look. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bite you so hard. I guess I got carried away. Are you going to be all right?”

“I’ll live,” I reply, and almost flinch as the pain flares up again. “In fact, that actually tickled.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Can you hold hands?” the photographer asks for our next picture.

I do so. I don’t squeeze it too hard this time. She grips me gently, too. Let her think she’s gotten off scot-free for now. I’ll punish her later.

“I can’t wait to ravage your pussy tonight,” I whisper in her ear.

I don’t bother to look at her to gauge her reaction. I get all the information I need when I feel her fingers twitch nervously against mine. I almost think she wants that. Maybe she does: she did marry me after all.

I leave with her to take more pictures, while the guests enjoy cocktail hour. After the shoot is done, Rosa changes into a more dance appropriate bridal romper—still all black—and we head to the banquet hall in the back of a stretched Alfa Romeo. Cars honk at us the whole way. Neither Rosa nor I say a word the entire time. We don’t even look at each other. We sit well apart, on either side of the back seat.

The wedding reception seems to last forever. My brother gleefully roasts me, while Massimo and Angela do the same for Rosa.

I only nibble at the food from the buffet. I’m not really hungry. Not because of my tongue wound—it hurts for the first few bites, but quickly grows numb as I continue to eat. I just don’t feel like eating. Rosa doesn’t either, I notice. Her family was in charge of setting all this up. They did a good job, I have to admit. I don’t think Rosa participated in the planning, though. I doubt she’d have any desire to.

Neither of us touch the cake, though it’s a gorgeous, multistory affair, with bride and groom miniatures at the top. They even got Rosa’s black dress right. That cake gets the most compliments out of all the food, but I’m not even tempted to try it. Maybe if this wedding actually meant something to me, I would. Maybe if I loved her. But I don’t, and it’s obvious she feels likewise.

I once swore I’d make her love me, but I’m not sure I want her love anymore, especially considering I won’t reciprocate it. She’ll be a toy of release like the rest of the women before her. An extremely beautiful and sexy toy, not to mention an expensive one, but a toy nonetheless. She’s like a limited edition Lambo or McLaren. Not something you want to get too attached to. Meant to be admired, driven, and then eventually sold when she’s got too many miles on her.

When it comes time to dance, we do so. We pretend to laugh, pretend to be a couple in love. I’m sure it comes off as forced. I’m happy she’s at least acting the part now. Maybe it’s because I am, too. That’s good if so. That she’s taking her cues from me, I mean. She understands who’s in charge in this relationship.

When we slow dance, I don’t press myself close to her. I also don’t look into her eyes but instead gaze off into space.

When the crowd starts dinging their glasses and calling for a kiss, we do so, though this time I only give her a chaste, quick peck. I don’t want a repeat of what happened earlier. Rosa seems pleased, while the crowd does not. They ding their glasses again, much to my annoyance.

When we kiss longer, they finally cheer. I keep my tongue to myself. Rosa has her eyes closed, and her mouth doesn’t respond to mine. She’s like a limp doll in my arms. I wonder if she’ll be the same during sex tonight. If so, that’ll be the first thing I’ll have to address. She’ll have to at least pretend to like it, or I won’t be fucking her. She’s not some inanimate sleeve to masturbate with. I like my sex toys lively.

Still, I think she’ll come around. I know a thing or two about how to pleasure the female body.

Finally, the cruel torture of the wedding reception ends and we’re taking the stretched Alfa Romeo back to my penthouse suite in downtown Palermo. Once more we sit on opposite sides in the back seat. The tension between us is almost palpable. I don’t break it. Don’t say a word.

I suppose it must be hard for her, having to move out from the house of her brothers to live with me. But the way I look at it, the location change actually makes things easier for her. She won’t have to take the ferry back and forth between Ustica and the mainland everyday. My apartment is only a short drive to the university. And Massimo dropped off her Vespa earlier, along with her clothes and other belongings, so she’s ready to hit the ground running.

Yes, this will be good for her. Plus we can’t forget the alliance that benefits her family. An alliance that also benefits me. It’s win-win for both parties.

But why do I feel so… empty?

Well, I’ll make the most of this. I’ll have my fun with her. I still want her, physically anyway. Thinking about what we’re going to do shortly makes me hard as hell.

I’m looking forward to punishing and dominating her. I’m going to claim her pussy tonight.