Page 2 of His Prince (Unexpectedly Twisted #2)

ANGEL

“ I ’m so nervous,” I admit to myself, the exhaustion finally washing over me. The wedding between Mikhail and me was rushed and not quite what I expected—I had dreams of flowers and doves and butterflies—but I can’t complain about how it turned out, especially being so quick. I had my family there, my friends. I couldn’t ask for more.

All in all, it went swimmingly.

Mikhail was quiet, nervous almost. He barely even made eye contact with me. But I know him. He wanted this, he wants me. There were times when our gazes met and I saw it, that possession, the yearning.

“I vow to love you, protect you, murder for you.”

After the ceremony, we were able to mingle for a short time, but before I could really say goodbye to everyone who attended, I was whisked away onto a plane by my bodyguard, Casey.

And Mikhail Ivanov.

My husband .

That word makes my heart flutter, despite how cold and stony he acted while saying our vows. I know he was just anxious—he’s not much of a people person, afraid of speaking candidly in front of an audience. And he was on display, in front of everyone who matters to me.

But now that we’re at his home, it’s just us. Alone. Together, finally.

Everything will be good now. I know it.

I tighten my sheer robe across my waist and glance at myself in the mirror one more time. My cheeks are flushed, my lips pink and glossy.

I hope he likes what he sees.

He never had an issue before.

Weeks full of nights where he’d watch me touch myself, his gaze intent through the phone, his pupils blown out, his tongue peeking out and wetting his lips.

“Come for me, my little Angel.”

I run a hand through my blond hair and make my way out of the bathroom to the unfamiliar bedroom. He insisted that we use this one for our first time, telling me it would be more comfortable than our bedroom. I don’t understand it—why we couldn’t fuck in our bed in our room, but I just let it be. The last twenty-four hours have been exhausting—the whirlwind wedding, flying across the country to get here. There’s no need for arguments on the first day. That’s not how I want to spend our first night together.

I stop in the middle of the room and my eyes land on Mikhail, who is standing by the window, a drink of cognac in his hand. His tie is loosened and his shirt unbuttoned, the gray, overcast skies casting a gloomy pallor over him.

Even so, the sight of him set against the backdrop of my new home causes my cock to twitch in appreciation.

He’s so handsome. With his perfectly combed brown hair, his tattoos peeking out from his rolled-up sleeves, the way his muscles flex beneath the fabric, bunched and ready to pounce.

He’s pure man.

My man.

How did I get so lucky?

“I’ll support you, be your friend and champion. Anyone who harms you will die. Slowly.”

“Hi,” I whisper, my voice hoarse and sultry. I don’t mean for my words to come out as they do, but he has this effect on me. I’m nearly shaking with need for him.

It’s been so long, such a long and painful wait to finally have him.

I want him so damn bad.

I want him to fuck me, make me scream his name.

My trembling hands move to my waist and I undo the sash, letting the robe slip to the ground, baring myself to him. I’m wearing white lace panties and a bralette, both imported from a boutique in France. My friend, Ben, helped me pick it out.

I want only the best for him.

My husband.

I can’t believe this is my life.

I’m married.

Even though this was an arranged contract between Mikhail and my father, I know him. Our secret conversations over the last few months have revealed so much about this man, and I didn’t even know it was possible to find someone so perfect.

Mikhail’s eyes darken as they sweep across my body and he wets his lips, setting his drink down on the table and running a hand across his jaw.

“Come here,” he says lowly, his Russian accent thick. It always becomes more prominent when he’s feeling something deeply.

I swallow, my cock hard and straining against the lace of my panties. I’m equal parts nerves and excitement.

I want this so bad. To finally be owned by someone, someone I love.

I stop in front of him, my hand moving to his chest, touching him softly. The beat of his heart pushes against my palm, sure and steady, so unlike my own which flutters nervously beneath my sternum.

“Are you nervous?” he asks, his fingers wrapping around my wrist.

“Yes, but only because I want this to be perfect for you.”

His eyes flash, something unreadable in those blue depths.

“Then show me how perfect you can be. On your knees.”

I do as he says, falling to the ground, eager to please him and at the same time, eager to taste cock. I’ve never sucked a dick before.

Oh god, I want this.

My fingers fumble with his pants, unbuttoning them and pulling the zipper down, his cock half hard and pressed against his boxer briefs.

I can smell the musk of him—manly, heady, dangerous.

Mine.

“I’ll share my life with you, good times and bad. My blood is your blood.”

The fabric of his underwear is pulled down, taut under his engorged cock, and I inhale him, dragging my nose up his length and licking at him tentatively. I’ve imagined this for so long, what it would be like, taste like. And now I have him.

A moan slips from my lips as I open my mouth and engulf him, eyes rolling back in my head as I suck on just the tip of him. He’s so big—huge, actually.

Oh fuck, this is going to hurt in the most delicious of ways. My throat and ass are going to be sore tomorrow.

His hand moves to my head, curling into my hair and gently pulling me forward.

The weight of him on my tongue makes mechoke and gag, but I refuse to be cowed.

I want to show him I can do this, that I want it. I may be an inexperienced virgin, but my husband is most definitely not.

Though he says he’s never been with a man before.

He’s made an exception for me .

“I am yours and you are mine. My breath, my heart.”

His dick slides into my mouth until his cockhead hits the back of my throat. I gag around him, swallowing repeatedly, my eyes leaking, my mouth drooling. I won’t give up. I’m not a quitter.

My dad thinks I’m soft, that I can’t handle the harsh realities of this life. And he’s right in many ways, but I also have parts of him in me. I’m a fighter.

I overcome when things grow tough.

His hand loosens and I slide on and off his hard cock, letting my lips tighten around his length as I move. I pop off the end of his dick and my eyes meet his, those swirling dark blue depths full of secrets.

“You give up?” he rasps, his chest heaving.

I shake my head, wiping the drool from my chin with the back of my hand. “I never quit.”

His lips tighten, almost as if he’s holding back a smirk, and I love it.

Love that I can make this straight man want me like this.

So, I go back with a vengeance.

I never give up. Never .

I suck hard, hollowing out my cheeks and bobbing my head. My gags come and go as I learn how to suck him, figuring out how he likes it, deducing what he needs from me. And the entire time my head is shuttling back and forth, tongue growing numb from the friction of the heavy weight against it, my eyes are on his.

And my cock is so hard, leaking, begging to be pulled out and stroked.

But I want him to touch me. I want him to make me come.

Him. Only him.

“You’re mine forever, Angelo. My Angel.”

His fingers tighten in my hair, almost painfully as he tugs me forward. I know he likes what he sees, what he feels. I’m doing a good job. My first blow job and I’m making him horny.

For me.

Another man .

Suddenly, my head is wrenched back, my eyes blinking up at him, my cheeks wet from the way my eyes have been watering.

“Enough. On the bed. Ass up.”

“Was it good?” I ask as I stand up on shaky legs, licking my swollen lips.

“You know it was.”

I preen at that, the small compliment from him.

He guides me to the bed, his cock still hard and protruding from his open pants, wet and slick from my saliva. I did that to him, made him hard, dick dripping with precum.

Crawling up onto the plush mattress, I press my face into the sheets, inhaling the scent of the detergent. Clean, floral.

He had this room prepared for this. For me. For our first night of many together.

“Spread yourself for me,” he says, making my body tremble with unfettered nerves.

I reach behind myself and spread my cheeks, feeling him move up behind me, causing my skin to erupt in goosebumps. My heart is suddenly pumping so hard I can feel it pounding in my ears.

His fingertips graze across my ass and then I feel the sting from the fabric of my thong being ripped from my body—first my panties and then my bralette. A gasp escapes me at suddenly being completely bare, and then a moan erupts from me when he presses against the diamond plug I pushed inside of me earlier.

“You prepped for me?” he asks, and I nod against the sheets, swallowing roughly.

“I did. I’m ready.”

He huffs, his hand on my spine, pushing me down a little further, my back arched almost painfully as his fingers work the toy from my ass.

A groan slips from me as the bed dips further and his strong hands grasp my hips.

“Please,” I murmur, my hands falling away from my cheeks and grabbing on to the sheets tightly .

“Can you take it, my Angel?”

“Yes. Yes. Please .”

I’ve been waiting my whole life for this. For him.

“Come here and let me kiss you, Angel.”

His knees knock my legs farther apart, so far it almost hurts, my muscles screaming at me, and then I feel the blunt head of his cock at my hole.

“Breathe,” he says as he pushes in slowly.

My muscles tense, pain sluicing through me as he inches his way inside of me, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t give me any reprieve. He just keeps going until I’m writhing against him, unsure if I love it or hate it. I don’t know what to feel. It’s so foreign, so different.

But then he stills, his hips pressed against my ass, his cock resting completely inside of me.

I let out a low moan and flex my rim against his length, testing it, seeing how wide he’s opened me up.

“Oh my god. You’re so big,” I moan, and he lets out a long breath but no words come out.

His fingers trail up my spine, bumping along the ridges until he gets to the nape of my neck. My skin is alight where he touches me.

My husband.

Mine.

I feel his fingers tighten, pushing my face further into the mattress as he lets out a low groan.

“Can you take more?”

“Yes.” It’s a low breathy agreement and the minute it exits my lips, he pulls back and slams into me.

I gasp, pain and pleasure slicing through me. My cock had softened but it grows hard between my legs once more as he cants his hips into me. Our skin slaps together wickedly as he holds me down on the bed, using me, using my hole.

As he fucks into me, I feel him bend over me, his lips near my ear as he ruts into me, his free hand moving around to my cock and stroking it. A gasp leaves me, breathless and high-pitched. I wish he were naked. Wish he wasn’t still wearing all his clothes.

“No one ever touches what’s mine except me ,” he growls, his lips brushing against my earlobe. “What are you, Angelo?”

I wet my lips as he continues to use me, trying to stave off the orgasm that is crawling up my thighs and tightening around my balls.

“Yours. Yours, Mikhail.”

He lets out a low grunt and then bites down on the side of my neck, hard.

I see stars, my cock pulsing as my release coats the bedcovers beneath me as he continues to suck on my sensitive skin. My hole tightens around him and he lets out a low grunt as his cum spills into me, marking me as his.

Finally. Fully his.

As soon as it’s over, he slowly lifts himself off me, the cool air on my overheated skin making me shiver. His cock is next, slipping from my sensitive, used hole. I can feel his release drip from me, slipping down my thighs and onto the sheets. There’s so much of it, as if he was saving it up for me.

My breathing is stuttered as my hips fall to the bed, wincing when I hit the mess I made.

“Our marriage is consummated,” he says matter-of-factly, and I let out a small laugh.

“It sure is.”

He pauses a moment, and I know he’s staring at my ass.

“Like what you see?” I ask with a small smile.

He hesitates a moment and when he doesn’t answer, I turn my gaze over my shoulder.

“The contract is sealed,” he says as he tucks himself back in and zips up his slacks.

My head cocks, noting his serious expression. Something in my chest tightens, but I assure myself that it’s the emotion of being exhausted from the wedding and from my first time.

It’s only nerves. Mikhail is just feeling awkward at the moment. He doesn’t mean it like that.

I wince as I turn and lift myself up onto my elbow. “Mikhail, what are you saying? I don’t understand…”

He runs a hand through his hair and his eyes meet mine.

“You’re mine now, fully. There’s no backing out.”

“Yes, I know that but?—”

He interrupts, “I have work to do. Nina will be in shortly to clean you up.”

I open my mouth and close it. “Wait. You’re not going to stay?”

He swallows and turns toward the door. “I never stay.”

“Mikhail,” I reply, my voice somewhat pleading and desperate, but he doesn’t seem to care.

Without a backward glance, he steps out of the room and then he’s gone.

I blink, my emotions all over the place as I try to understand what’s happened. My husband left me on our wedding night. Nina is coming to help me clean up.

Who the fuck is Nina?

And why has he left me?

I thought perhaps his coldness on our wedding day was just his nerves, but now I’m wondering, for the first time, if I’ve made a mistake.

The vows he said…the way he looked at me up there in front of everyone.

But there’s no way…no way was I that fooled.

He’s just stressed, tired. Things will even out in a few weeks, I’m sure of it. We share a bedroom for fuck’s sake. I asked for all my things to be put away next to his.

This has to be a mistake.

Maybe I’m just imagining this.

That has to be it.

As I sit up, a dull ache pulses up my inner thighs and my ass clenches. I wince as the bedroom door whips opens and an older woman walks through.

This must be Nina.

I can tell just by looking at her that she’s fierce, her face drawn and unfeeling. She approaches me and clucks at me, like a mother hen.

“You look wrecked. They always do,” she mutters and then points. “Bathroom. Now,” she adds.

“Wait. What do you mean by that?” I ask softly, trying to play nice. I need to make friends here, not enemies.

“I meant what I said. Now go.”

I do as she says, wanting to appease her. I stand with a wince, hobbling over to the tub, my hands in front of my crotch as I go. But she doesn’t look at me, just turns the tub on, adding soaps and salts to the water before pointing to it.

“In.”

I gingerly step in, the water barely at my stomach as I sink into the ceramic tub, my ass tightening in pain from the hard seat beneath it. Nina doesn’t seem to care at all. She just hands me a washrag and then huffs before turning away and disappearing into the bedroom. Through the rush of the warm water falling from the faucet, I can hear the bedsheets being stripped from the mattress and suddenly shame washes over me.

Nina is doing what Mikhail should be doing. My husband should be taking care of me. Not some woman who looks like she could be my grandmother.

My mind turns, trying to piece together all of it, to make sense of it, but nothing fits. None of this makes sense.

I blink back a wave of tears just as Nina comes into the bathroom.

“Do not cry,” she says when she hears me sniffle. “This is what you signed up for.”

“I’m thinking I don’t know what I signed up for,” I reply and then rub the washcloth against my skin. I’m obviously not doing a good enough job because she snatches it from me and gets to work, scrubbing it across my skin in an almost bruising manner.

“You married him. You should have known how the Ivanovs are. How the Russians are.”

“Yeah.”

Her hand stops for a moment and she leans back, those eyes of hers softening slightly. “Listen, boy. Mikhail has many guests. It’s best you lower any expectations you have. You may be his husband in name and on paper, but that’s all you are, do you hear? You’re just a transaction, a small piece of a much bigger puzzle. No more, no less.”

“Guests?” I ask, my chest tightening almost painfully as my mind sticks to that one word. “What do you mean by that?”

When she doesn’t answer, only soaps up my hair, I whisper, “Like guests he fucks?”

“Mhm.”

“But…we’re married. He’s married now.”

“You are the son of a mafia don. How do you not know how things are done?”

It’s such a simple question and yet I feel so stupid for not realizing sooner.

“I do know how they’re done, just not how he does them.”

“It doesn’t matter now. You’re here. This is your life. You will get used to it. In time.”

I don’t believe her, my mind still reeling from it all. I can’t believe this is real. This can’t be real.

The Mikhail she is describing is not the man I spent hours on the phone with, the one who wooed me so deliciously as he spoke. I was sure he wanted me, that this marriage was the right decision. Despite how this all began as an arrangement, just a way for my father to ensure my safety from his enemies. I saw Mikhail’s desire for me. Nina must be mistaken. This has to be a mistake.

I hold on to that as she washes my hair and then lets me rinse off before drying me with an oversized towel .

My eyes catch hers in the mirror and she just tuts softly, leading me to the closet and handing me a white robe. One of many.

What this space is dawns on me, and I feel myself shrivel slightly.

“Is this the room he uses for his other guests?”