Bound To The Mafia Heir

Claimed

Chapter Five

“You’re mine now,” Luca said, his voice a low growl that vibrated through the dim room. He stepped closer, closing the space until I had nowhere left to retreat.

My back hit the edge of the bed. My hands shook against the silk of my wedding gown. “Luca, please… I can’t do this. I’m not ready.”

“You don’t have a choice.” His eyes locked on mine, dark and unrelenting. “The families are waiting for proof tomorrow morning. Blood on the sheets. Everyone needs to see that the marriage was consummated. That you’re truly mine.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. I knew the tradition—old, brutal, unbreakable. In our world, a marriage wasn’t real until there was blood. Proof of virginity. Proof of obedience. Proof that the alliance was sealed in the most intimate way possible.

“I know,” I whispered. “But I’m scared.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing my cheek before sliding down to grip my waist. “Good. Be scared. Fear will keep you alive in this life.” His lips grazed the side of my neck. “But you’ll still give me what I want.”

My breath caught. Heat flooded through me even as panic clawed at my chest. “You don’t have to force me.”

“I’m not forcing you,” he said against my skin. “Your body already knows it belongs to me. Feel how you’re trembling, not just from fear.”

He was right, and I hated it. My knees weakened as his hand moved lower, gathering the heavy fabric of my gown, pulling it up inch by inch. Cool air hit my thighs. I gasped.

“Luca…”

“Say my name again,” he ordered, voice rough. “I want to hear it when I take you.”

I shook my head, but the word slipped out anyway. “Luca.”

His mouth claimed mine—hard, possessive, no room for hesitation. The kiss stole my breath, made my head spin. His hands were everywhere, pushing the gown higher, sliding beneath it to touch bare skin. I clutched at his shoulders, unsure if I was trying to push him away or pull him closer.

He broke the kiss only long enough to speak. “Lie back on the bed.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. “Please… go slow.”

“I’ll go as slow as I decide.” He guided me down onto the sheets, following until his weight pinned me gently but firmly. “But I won’t stop. The blood has to be there tomorrow. Everyone will check.”

I closed my eyes, tears stinging. “I know.”

“Look at me,” he demanded.

I opened my eyes. His face was inches from mine, fierce and focused.

“You’re mine, Aria. Every part of you. Tonight I take what’s owed to me.”

His hand moved between us, undoing his belt, the sound of the buckle loud in the quiet room. I tensed, every muscle locking.

“Breathe,” he said, voice softer now but still commanding. “Relax for me, or it’ll hurt more.”

I tried. I really did. But when his fingers slid between my thighs, parting me, I couldn’t stop the sharp inhale.

“So ready for me already,” he murmured, approval and hunger in his tone. “Your body knows exactly what it wants, even if your mind is fighting it.”

I whimpered as he pressed forward, slow, deliberate, and relentless. The stretch burned. Tears slipped down my temples into my hair.

“Luca…it hurts.”

“I know.” He stilled for a moment, letting me adjust. “But you’re taking me so well, principessa. Just a little more.”

He pushed deeper. A sharp sting tore through me, and I cried out, fingers digging into his back.

“There it is,” he said, voice low and satisfied. “The proof they want.”

I felt the warmth of blood, the proof of my innocence now marking the sheets under us. The tradition was fulfilled. The alliance is now sealed.

He stayed still, giving me time, his forehead resting against mine. “Breathe through it.”

I did, shaky and uneven. The pain began to ease into something else—fullness, heat, an ache that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “Now feel me.”

He started to move—slow, controlled thrusts that dragged gasps from my throat. Each one built the pressure inside me higher. My legs wrapped around him without thinking. My hips lifted to meet his.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, voice rough. “Give in. Let me have all of you.”

I couldn’t fight it anymore. Pleasure coiled tight and hot, overriding the fear, the pain, the anger. I arched beneath him, clinging as the world narrowed to nothing but sensation.

“Luca,” I gasped, his name breaking on my lips.

“Say it again,” he demanded. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” I cried out, the admission torn from me as the wave finally broke. Pleasure crashed over me, sharp and blinding.

He followed moments later, burying himself deep with a low groan, my name on his lips.

For a long minute we stayed like that, breathing hard, bodies slick and tangled. He pressed a kiss to my moist temple, almost tender.

“You did well,” he said quietly. “The sheets will show exactly what the families need to see tomorrow.”

I nodded weakly, tears still drying on my cheeks. The ritual was complete. I was claimed in every way that mattered in our world.

But just as my pulse began to slow, a sharp knock sounded at the door, quick, and insistent.

Luca tensed above me, instantly alert. “Stay here,” he ordered, pulling away and reaching for the gun on the nightstand.

Another knock…louder.

“Who is it?” he barked.

No answer. Only the faint scrape of movement beyond the door.

Luca’s eyes narrowed. He looked down at me, possessive and protective all at once. “No one touches you now. You’re mine.”

The door rattled slightly, as if someone tested the lock.

Luca stood, weapon in hand, every line of his body ready for violence. “They picked the wrong night to try something.”

My heart pounded again—this time purely from fear. The pleasure was gone, replaced by cold dread.

Whoever was out there had waited until I was fully claimed.

And now they were coming for me.