Vow of Deception: A Dark Marriage Mafia Romance (Deception Trilogy Book 1)
Vow of Deception: Chapter 9

“Lenochka.”

I mumble in my sleep, my head feeling heavy and painful, as if a hammer is rummaging through it.

My breath is cut off.

I gasp, only to be met by something…soft? My eyes snap open and I replace myself on my stomach, my face nestled against a pillow.

Long fingers undo the zipper of my dress and slide the cloth down my body.

For a second, I’m so disoriented, I don’t even know where I am, let alone what’s happening. I shouldn’t be sleeping on a bed, and not just any bed; this one is warm, soft, I pick up the scent of mysterious wood and rich leather.

Reality kicks back in with a tumbling force that keeps me gasping for air. I came with Adrian to his house. After I saw his son, I had a visceral recollection of my daughter and then…what?

What happened after that? Where am I?

More importantly, what’s going on right now?

Air clashes against my bare skin, forming goosebumps. The dress is gone and I’m only wearing a strapless bra and the lace panties Emily gave me earlier.

My shoulders snap into a rigid line as sweat covers my brow. I’m terrified to look behind me and see the look in his eyes right now. If I do, I’ll be trapped and driven to the point of no return. However, abstaining from looking at him doesn’t diminish from his sheer presence or the overwhelming heat he emanates. It radiates off my skin like flames licking it—or death kissing it.

My mind flashes in all directions as the reality of what’s happening settles at the bottom of my stomach with a thud.

Adrian couldn’t be so cruel as to do this, right?

What am I thinking? Of course he is. Everything he’s done thus far to have me under his thumb only proves the lengths he’ll go to in order to get what he wants.

Maybe…maybe if I pretend to be asleep, he’ll stop. Maybe he only meant to remove my dress.

Even as I think that, I know I’m merely fooling myself. He’s not the type who can be stopped. I know that, I saw it in his eyes and I’m currently feeling it with his firm touch.

“What are you doing?” My voice is slow, broken, and so damn terrified.

“Don’t talk.” He’s speaking with an American accent. There’s no Russian accent present now.

He clicks the strap of my bra open and I stiffen as he pulls it out from underneath me, leaving me half-naked. My breasts meet the soft mattress, but it feels like cold metal, one that’s ready to cut through my nipples.

“Adrian, please…” I whisper as a tear rolls down my cheek. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Whatever you’re doing. I’m scared.”

“You like being scared.”

“N-no…”

“Yes, you do. You like begging too, Lenochka, so beg me.”

His fingers latch onto the waistband of my panties, and a sob catches in my throat. “Please…please…don’t…”

He yanks the underwear down my legs in one go and I yelp, a loud sob echoing in the air.

His large hands that I noticed earlier today—kept thinking about, even—grab me by the hips in a ruthless grip as he plunges inside me from behind.

My hoarse scream pierces the silence as his cock tears through me. It’s harsh, merciless, and meant to punish.

He doesn’t give me time to adjust and thrusts with an increasing rhythm. My walls burn from the discomfort, the power, the violation.

My cries and sobs echo in the air as I beg and wail. But my body doesn’t move. Not even a little. I don’t try to claw at him, to buck, or squirm.

I don’t try anything.

If I do, he’ll hurt me. He’ll hit me. He’ll make me bleed.

So I remain like a doll being used and abused without a fight.

I attempt to escape inside my head, but his thrusts forbid me to. There’s an animalistic power behind them, something that’s meant to keep me in the here and now, to make me feel every second of what’s happening.

Forbidding me from going anywhere else is crueler than the brutal act itself.

Monstrous, even.

My head falls on the pillow to muffle my screams, my tears, everything. My fingers dig into the mattress and my toes stiffen, but nothing erases the chagrin or the mixed feelings going through me all at once.

I pray for it to stop, but it goes on and on. He doesn’t finish. Doesn’t release me from my agony.

And soon enough, I replace myself in my head again. I close my eyes and try to think of the most beautiful place I’ve been to. A green garden with colorful roses and singing birds.

But then the sky darkens and all the flowers leak a crimson liquid that looks like…blood.

I gasp, eyes shooting open when he pulls out of me and flips me over to face him.

Adrian is naked, his muscled chest coated with a sheen of sweat over the fine hairs. He has double sleeves of tattoos, but I’m unable to make them out in the darkness.

Even his face is shadowed as if he’s the Grim Reaper coming to take my life. “Where the fuck did you go, Lenochka? Keep your attention on me when I’m fucking you.”

“Please…Adrian…please…” My voice cracks with every word. “Please…stop…”

He plunges inside me again and my head rolls back from the force of it. My sobs and tears come out chopped as his thrusts break them apart.

Then I’m making strange sounds—they’re longer, high-pitched, and they aren’t sobs. My body tightens with something different than discomfort as sharp tingles assault the bottom of my stomach.

“You’re strangling my dick, Lenochka,” he rasps. “Are you going to come?”

I shake my head frantically, but even as I do, a wave of heat explodes under my skin and I scream for a different reason altogether.

I wish I was facing the pillow so I could muffle my voice, but since that’s not possible, I use my hand, biting down on it with all my might.

The sensations going through me are like being released from that black box. I’m tripping over my own feet, sprinting toward the open air as it hits my lungs with a blast.

The orgasm is strong, harsh, and nothing like I’ve felt before. My whole body is trembling and my insides are a mess of tingles and tremors.

I expect Adrian to finish, but he goes on and on, like a machine with no off button. My body glides across the mattress and the headboard hits the wall with each of his movements. He lifts my leg up in the air and pounds into me with renewed energy, as if he just started. His fingers dig into my skin and he pinches my nipple so hard, I see neon stars in the darkness.

The same wave from earlier hits me again, and this time, I don’t even have the energy to scream.

I’m so high above, I don’t think I’ll ever return.

But I do.

My body’s limp on the mattress as the aftereffect of the orgasm causes my limbs to shake.

Adrian is still not finished.

“Please…” I sob. “I can’t take it anymore…please.”

“You can. Your cunt was made for me, Lenochka.”

“Adrian…stop.”

“No.”

“Stop!” I scream and my eyes flutter open.

I’m on my stomach on the bed, face down. Sweat covers me under my clothes and the sheets.

I’m wearing the dress Emily picked for me and…my fingers are inside my panties, thrusting in and out of my pussy.

My soaked pussy.

My other hand is pinching my nipple underneath my bra.

I startle and sit up, removing my hands as if I’ve been caught masturbating in a public square. My mouth hangs open at the sight of the juices coating the fingers that were between my legs.

Lifting my dress, I’m mortified by the view. My inner thighs are sticky and my panties are most definitely ruined. Not only that, but my nipples ache, throbbing against the material of my bra.

Was…all of that a dream?

No. I don’t dream—let alone about being raped.

And yet, I’m all alone in the room and my clothes are intact. I was even covered by a duvet. Not to mention the evidence that’s staring at me on my fingers.

Why the hell was I touching myself to that type of nightmare?

I scoot back against the headboard, pulling my legs to my chest and wait for…what? A sign that I don’t have the sort of depraved mind that fills me with those types of nightmares?

Keep it together, Winter. It was just a nightmare. It’s not real.

I carefully step off the bed and peek under it. I hold my breath, expecting some sort of monster to jump me.

No sense of relief engulfs me when I replace no one.

Because I know, I just know that real monsters are more dangerous. They appear human, too, before they release their beastly selves on the world.

Like in my nightmare.

The room I’m in has the king-size bed that I woke up on with a metal headboard, decorated with golden motifs. A matching dresser with a large mirror is right across from it and I nearly scare myself shitless when I pass by it and sense my shadow.

I head to the only door in sight and pray it’s a bathroom. I need to wash up, to remove all the stickiness clinging to my body.

As soon as I open it, I freeze in the doorway.

Adrian is inside a bathtub that’s full of water. His eyes are closed, head lolled to the side, and his arms are crossed over his chest.

For a second, I don’t know if he’s actually sleeping or…dead.

I want to turn around and leave. Better yet, I want my carefree life from the streets back. After the cruel dream I just had, the last thing I want is to talk to Adrian.

But he could be dead—or will be if he keeps sleeping in a bathtub.

My footsteps are careful, slow as I approach him. I touch his shoulder and freeze.

Bite marks.

My hand has a bite mark from when I bit on it from the nightmare.

Was it really a nightmare?

Before I can think on that, a strong hand catches my wrist and pulls me over. I shriek as I lose my balance.

“You’re finally awake, Lenochka.”