Hope Part 2

Hope Part 2
His nose brushes my forehead, wet lips capturing mine in a demanding kiss. I gasp at the bite on my tongue, eyes blazing, his hand clutching my breast roughly, pinching a hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I arch, pressing against his body, Michael sliding down my torso, straddling my thigh, leaving me dripping between my legs, eager for his raw touch.

"What do you think, Hope, should I go to work smelling like pussy?" he says before grabbing my thigh and pulling it up, freeing it from the grip of his legs.

"Yes," I answer possessively. "So every bitch who gets near you knows who you belong to."

"Coat my cock with your scent, fuck." His hand grips my neck while his hips grind into my core, smearing my wetness against his pants. His hard cock presses on my clit and I lose myself in the torture of being touched through clothing.

"Michael, please, fuck me," I beg, feeling the beginning of an orgasm but refusing to reach it just by friction. "I need more!"

"No," he answers hoarsely. "You’re going to stay dripping wet until I get home to fuck you. If you touch yourself, I’ll keep you without orgasms for a week."

"Baby," I plead, "please, don’t do that."

"Shut up. I want you climbing the walls tonight, Hope, you’re going to obey me!"

"Yes, sir," I give in.

With his leg still locking my thigh and his free hand holding the other, keeping my foot by his head, I can’t move my hips to increase the friction of his thick cock against my pussy. Tremors hit my arms stretched above my head, his hand on my neck keeps me pinned while the start of an orgasm builds.

Michael is a bastard who knows exactly what he’s doing. While torturing my clit and denying me his cock inside, he gives me a frustrated climax that, instead of soothing, sets my body ablaze. I melt against his pants, soaking them just as he wanted, and the satisfied smile on his face shows he’s achieved his goal. My cheeks burn, I clench my fist wanting to hit him for leaving me needy.

"I hate you," I whisper.

"No, you don’t," he counters confidently, releasing my hand.

He frees my leg and slides down against my torso. I wrap my thighs around his waist, slipping my hands inside his blazer, feeling the muscular torso of my husband. His lips capture mine, tongues dancing in a rhythmic mix of flavors. Breathless, I don’t want to let him go. Every second by his side is cherished.

My heart pounds harder as I realize what’s happening between me and Michael. Complicity turning into something stronger, desire burning like a passion that will never end. The urge to have more, for him to know every piece of my soul, screams wildly inside me.

I’m falling in love with my husband.

In that second, I kiss him praying my feelings are returned.

My gorgeous husband leaves for work with his pants soaked by my pussy, the intoxicating scent of sex clinging to him. I spend the rest of the day thinking about it, controlling myself not to grind against the chairs. Wanting distraction, I take a long shower and head down to Emily’s room. I knock three times before she finally answers.

"I’m going back to school," I say excitedly.

"That’s fantastic!" she exclaims, jumping a little.

"Let’s go out? I want to distract myself a bit."

"Did something happen?" She closes her bedroom door and we walk together to the elevator.

"Just your brother testing my patience," I reply, giving no more details.

"He always does that." She laughs softly and I join her.

"Let’s call Josephine and go to the club."

"Alright."

We leave the mansion, but I can’t reach Josephine. Worried by her disappearance, I have Zayn, my head of security, take us to the Lucians’ house. As soon as we arrive, the sinister aura of the place chills me like always. My presence is announced before I even step out of the car.

Eleanor greets us with a stiff smile as she descends the main steps. I get out with Emily at my side, uneasy at the lady’s behavior—she never receives me outside, only inside her house. In my second week of marriage, I visited each of them, and the protocol is always to receive the Boss’s wife inside, never at the door like I’m being dismissed.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Bianchi." The forced smile doesn’t escape me.

"Good afternoon, Eleanor," I call her by her first name, imposing hierarchy, unease growing in me. "Call Josephine."

"My daughter is sick," she clasps her hands, "she can’t go out with you today."

"I’ll speak with her," I say, suspicion sharpening.

"Please," she blocks my entrance, "I don’t want you to catch what Josephine has. When she’s better, I’ll send her to visit you."

"Eleanor," I say coldly, "I’m going into this house to see Josephine. If you have a problem with that, our husbands will handle it. Understood?"

"Yes, Mrs. Bianchi," she answers grudgingly.

I glance at Emily, who frowns. She’s been growing fond of Josephine, and we’ve become good friends. Unlike me, she doesn’t have the authority of being the Boss’s wife, so she waits outside while I enter. The first thing I notice is a broken lamp on the floor.

Rebeca, the youngest daughter, sits on the couch with her face red from crying, the same doctor from my house tending to a bleeding cut on her arm. I search for Josephine but don’t see her. I know the sisters clash, but I can’t believe it would come to physical harm like this.

"Rebeca," I rush to her side, "are you alright?" I touch her shoulder. She’s only seventeen, though her body and features could pass for someone in her twenties.

"No," her voice breaks, "that crazy Josephine threw the lamp at me!"

"Rebeca!" her mother snaps, scolding her for revealing it.

I glance at the lamp and then at the cut on her forearm. It’s the kind of wound made only by a blade slicing skin, not by something thrown. I keep my suspicions to myself; right now, I need to find my friend.

"Where is Josephine?"

"Mrs. Bianchi, please," Eleanor clenches her fists. "This is a family matter, and with all respect, you’re interfering. My husband is arriving and will handle it personally. Please, leave."

"I am your lady," I stress the words, "and I am giving you an order. Unless you want me to invoke my husband’s power, take me to Josephine now."

"Yes," she mutters unwillingly.

Zayn stays close with two guards as we climb the stairs. I don’t knock on Josephine’s door—I simply enter. My hand flies to my mouth in shock at the sight of my friend on her knees atop scattered dried corn kernels. Her wrists bound with white rope, her ankles locked in chains fastened to her waist, forcing her to remain kneeling.

"What is this?"

"Discipline," Eleanor replies. "And you can’t interfere anymore!"

She’s right—I’ve overstepped, and Michael will have a headache fixing this. But I won’t retreat now.

"Josephine," I call, and she glares at me with hatred in her eyes. "Did you hurt Rebeca?"

"No," she growls.

"Don’t lie!" her mother screams. "I saw on the cameras—you threw the lamp at her, you demon!"

"She cut herself!" Josephine shouts. "If I’d done it, I’d have made sure to kill her."

"That’s who you want to defend?" Eleanor demands of me.

I analyze—yes, Rebeca was hit by the lamp, but that wound couldn’t have been made by it unless someone used a blade.

"Mrs. Bianchi." A deep voice resonates behind me. I turn to find Louis Lucian, the underboss. "To what do we owe your visit?"

"I came to invite Josephine to accompany me on an outing," I say, raising my chin to meet his gaze. "But clearly, that won’t be possible. Eleanor explained the situation, and I understand the sisters went too far. I’m sure your parents grounded you today, Josephine. But I expect to see you and your family at my residence for dinner tomorrow at 8 p.m."

I turn to Lucian, my silent warning clear. I may not be able to stop him from punishing her at home, but I’ll ensure it won’t be severe enough to keep her from leaving her house due to injuries.

"This is a request from your lady. You won’t refuse it, will you?" I ask with layered warning in my tone. "My husband will formalize the invitation."

"We’ll be there," he nods. "Now, if you’ll excuse us, I must resolve matters in my house."

"Certainly. Have a good afternoon. See you tomorrow, Josephine."

I leave the Lucians’ house with a heavy heart. I wish I could do more, but I have limits, and Michael will likely scold me tonight—his underboss won’t be happy about me issuing orders in his house.

The rest of the day, my head is clouded. Emily tries to hide it, but I can see she’s more sensitive after hearing about Josephine’s punishment. Both of my friends are hurt by their families—I wish I could do more for them.

Michael returns around nine. I watch his expression, wondering if I’ll get scolded or if we’ll end up in bed. I’m in the third-floor kitchen with a spoon of ice cream in my mouth when he sets his briefcase on the counter and grabs my waist.

"Because of you, I spent two hours listening to Lucian complain about you meddling in his family. I hope you’re ready to give me your ass, it’s the only thing that’ll calm me down."

"Nice try." I press the spoon of ice cream to his lips. "I was just afraid they’d hurt her. Sorry for causing trouble for you."

"It’s fine." His lips, cold from the ice cream, brush my forehead. "You’re my wife, you can interfere wherever you want—but know the limits. Josephine really did hurt Rebeca with intent to kill, and they have the cameras as proof. I’m against punishing women physically, but there are limits to what I can intervene in."

"How does Kai allow this?" I ask, staring at him. "Isn’t he supposed to be against it?"

"He doesn’t hurt Josephine. He does what he can to reduce the punishments. But Kai is very protective of Rebeca, and his affection for Josephine is minimal."

"I don’t understand—she’s not a bad person."

"To you, maybe. But to the family, Josephine has always been someone to be wary of, or you might wake up dead because of her."

"That doesn’t make sense."

"If you lived in New York, you’d understand. In time, it’ll become clearer. She isn’t who you think she is—always be careful around her."

"You wouldn’t let me be with her if you really believed that."

"Enough about this." He presses our foreheads together. "Did you touch yourself?"

"Not for a second,"
I reply, shelving the Josephine talk for later.

"Good girl."

His hand slides down to my ass, pulling me close. I grin, excited for the night ahead.