Page 83 of Sins of Arrogance

“Nah, I don’t. I was look­ing at you be­cause I couldn’t stop even though I was on the phone to your un­cle.”

“You stopped to look at the com­puter.” And that’s when I re­ally started to feel dirty.

“This bugged you?”

Is he for real? “I’m pretty sure it would’ve both­ered any woman to be left naked and tied to the bed while her lover went about his busi­ness, like it didn’t mat­ter.”

“I am your hus­band, not your lover.”

Not the point, but if he’s go­ing to harp on it… “Agreed. I can hardly call you my lover when we can’t even have sex un­til af­ter I be­come preg­nant with your son.”

“We al­ready went over this.”

“Don’t try to tell me that any other woman you’ve called your lover in the past hasn’t known what it feels like to have you in­side them.”

“My past is not rel­e­vant to our present.”

But he has a past. I don’t. He’s my first, last and only. It’s not fair, but it’s the way it is in our world of dou­ble stan­dards.

“You are my wife,” he adds, his tone im­ply­ing that’s some great honor.

It didn’t feel like an honor when he left me on our wed­ding night.

“I’m just the guar­an­tor for the con­tract un­til I give you a son and then that’s his role.” And only as I say those words do I re­al­ize how much know­ing that my child will be a pawn in my grand­fa­ther’s power games just like I am both­ers me.

“Ar­ranged mar­riages are the norm in the mob, that doesn’t make you any less my wife.” He sounds of­fended. “Even if I don’t stick my cock in your tight, hot cunt un­til af­ter you be­come preg­nant with our son, that does not change who you are to me.”

No it doesn’t. Pen­e­tra­tive sex isn’t go­ing to make me any more im­por­tant to Mick than I am right now.

“I don’t want to do that any­more.” I try to pull away from him.

Only he won’t let me go.

In­stead, he uses his hand on my shoul­der to pull me to­ward him un­til I’m sit­ting across his legs. “We both signed the con­tract promis­ing we would not have phys­i­cal in­ter­course un­til af­ter you be­came preg­nant.”

“So?” I squirm, try­ing to get off his lap.

He locks his arm around me with more ef­fect than a safety har­ness on a roller­coaster. “When you touch me it com­pro­mises my self-con­trol.”

“I don’t be­lieve you.” It never feels like he’s out of con­trol to me.

“I don’t lie to you, Kara.”

“You would though. If my grand­fa­ther wanted you to.” And how did we go from talk­ing about sex to this?

“Nah. I wouldn’t. I won’t al­ways tell you ev­ery­thing and I won’t an­swer if you ask a ques­tion I can’t give an hon­est re­ply to, but I’ll never lie to you.”

His words hit my heart in a way I ab­so­lutely can­not af­ford them to. “But you’re the one who drives me past the point of san­ity.”

“Touch­ing you does that to me too.”

I shake my head, deny­ing his words, but he just said he wouldn’t lie to me. “Touch­ing me turns you on?”

“My hard dick doesn’t tell you that?” he ri­postes.

I shrug help­lessly. “You’re al­ways hard.”

“Around you.”