She needs a way out, and he needs a wife on paper. The deal is simple until he decides she belongs to him in every way that counts.
He does not ask. He takes what he wants, and right now he wants her compliant in his bed, wearing his ring, answering to no man but him. She tells herself it is only temporary, only survival, only the money and protection keeping her in his penthouse and under his body at night. But his hands know exactly where to press, exactly how to hold her down until her protests thin to moans she cannot control. He likes her mouthy. He likes breaking her of it. Each time she pushes, he pushes harder, and each time she swears she will not bend, she finds herself open and begging and hating how completely he has learned her.
His world is violence and velvet, private clubs and loaded weapons, enemies who would use her to hurt him and a man who refuses to let anyone else touch what is his. She walks through it half-dressed and fully claimed, his marks on her thighs, his name in her mouth when he makes her say it. The danger should send her running. Instead she wakes wet from dreams of his weight pinning her, his whisper telling her she is never leaving, his fingers proving it while she comes apart.
They are using each other. She keeps telling herself that, even when he fucks her slow and mean and watches her face the whole time, even when he kills for her and comes home smelling of copper and need, even when she stops locking the bathroom door and starts leaving her phone where he can see it, where he can see she is not running, not yet, maybe not ever.
This marriage started as a cage. She is no longer certain she wants the door open. A full-length male dominant possessive marriage of convenience erotic romance with a ruthless gangster husband and the woman he intends to keep.
