MIO PECCATO ( My Sin)

Chapter 3

"Sir... Sir... Please. I truly don't..."

Dove's desperate plea hung in the air. Her voice was barely above a whisper and shook badly. She stood in the middle of Storm's huge room, still wearing the black lingerie on her small body. The room had dim red-gold lights that made long shadows across the big bed with its black silk sheets and mirrored ceiling.

Storm's cold voice cut her off. "I bought you from that pathetic orphanage, and you signed the contract to be my wife. So strip and stop pissing me off, or I will send your body back to the orphanage in pieces. You choose."

The words hit hard. Dove's empty green eyes filled with tears she didn't let fall. She had signed that contract back at Hope Orphanage. Her hand was shaking when the matron warned her: failure meant returning broken—or not returning at all. Hope Orphanage was no safe place. It was a training ground, a bad spot hidden behind old walls where girls learned to serve, to obey, or to kill. Being sent back was not an option. It was a death sentence.

She nodded slowly. Her small hands went to the bottom of the sheer babydoll lingerie. The fabric slid down her pale skin and fell at her feet. She stood there completely naked now, open under his stare. Her breasts were small but nicely shaped, with soft pink n*****s that got hard in the cool room air. Her p***y was smooth and shaved, the lips a light pink against her pale thighs. There were faint scars on her back and sides—thin lines from years of "training"—but they only made her look more fragile.

Storm's gray eyes got darker with hunger. This tiny girl was broken-looking, stirred something in him he didn't fully understand. Not just lust—though his c**k was hard under the towel—but a dark curiosity. She didn't fight. She didn't beg anymore. She just obeyed, like a broken doll ready to be used.

"Lay on the bed," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "And spread your legs wide."

Dove did it right away. She climbed onto the big bed. The silk sheets felt cold on her skin. She lay back, her long black hair spreading out, and slowly opened her thighs. Her pink p***y was open to him, a little wet even though she was scared—her body reacting on its own. She was his alone. No other man in the Syndicate would touch Storm's wife.

He took the towel off his waist and let it drop. His body was built like a weapon: 6'4" of solid muscle, with scars on his chest and knuckles from many kills. Black heart and storm tattoos covered his arms and back. His thick, veined c**k was rock hard, the head already wet with need. Blood still came slowly from the bullet graze on his arm, but he didn't feel it. The adrenaline and anger from the ambush covered everything except this.

Storm got on the bed like a predator, moving between her open legs. He didn't kiss her. There was no softness yet. He lowered his head to her small breasts and took one pink n****e in his mouth. He sucked hard, his tongue moving around it, teeth grazing enough to make her body arch. Dove bit her lip to stay quiet, but a small gasp came out when he moved to the other n****e. He sucked and pulled until both were swollen, red, and wet with his spit. They looked raw now—puffy and sensitive.

His hand moved down her flat stomach, fingers touching her shaved p***y. She was wet. Not soaked, but enough to show her body was reacting. "Good girl," he said against her skin. The words felt strange coming from him. He had f****d many maids in the Citadel—bent them over tables, used their mouths while talking business—but this was different. This fragile girl was his wife. His property.

He lined up his thick c**k at her entrance and rubbed the head along her wet folds. Then with one strong push, he went inside her. Dove's eyes went wide. A sharp cry came out as he stretched her virgin walls. She was tight—so tight—that Storm groaned deep in his throat. He stopped for a second, halfway in, feeling her squeeze around him.

"Fuck... you're untouched," he growled. That only made him more possessive. He pulled back a little and pushed in deeper, taking every inch. Her small body jerked under him. Her hands grabbed the sheets tight. He started a hard rhythm, hips slamming forward. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room. His heavy balls smacked against her ass with every thrust. He sucked on her swollen n*****s again while pounding into her, one hand holding her wrist above her head.

Dove's pink p***y stretched around his thick c**k. Cream covered his shaft as he went deeper. She was so small under him, her legs spread wide to take his size. Each thrust hit a spot that made her toes curl even with the mix of pain and pleasure. Storm's bleeding arm left faint red marks on her pale skin, claiming her more. He f****d her like he killed—ruthless and without stopping. Grunts escaped him as her walls fluttered, milking his c**k.

"Look at me," he ordered between thrusts. Her empty green eyes met his. Tears ran down her cheeks. But her body was reacting, her hips moving a little, her p***y getting wetter. Storm felt a dark satisfaction. This quiet, obedient girl was taking him, squeezing like she was made for his c**k.

He changed position, putting her legs over his shoulders so he could go deeper. The new angle made her cry out softly. Her small breasts bounced with every hard stroke. His thumb found her c**t and rubbed it in circles while he kept f*****g her. "This p***y is mine. Only mine. Say it."

"Y-yours..." Dove whispered, her voice breaking. The word pushed him closer. He was lost in the heat and tightness, in how her swollen n*****s looked. He leaned down again, sucking one hard while thrusting faster. The bed creaked under them.

Storm's thick c**k moved in and out fast. Her pink folds gripped him. Juices dripped down to the sheets. He could feel his balls tightening, the need to fill her growing. This was more than just relief—it was ownership. He thought about breeding her, marking her womb as Syndicate property.

But in the middle of a deep thrust, a loud knock came at the door.

"Storm! Urgent! The doctor needs your attention—Marco's condition is worsening!"

The voice belonged to one of his captains. He sounded tense and in a hurry.

Storm froze, still buried deep inside her. His gray eyes showed frustration.

With a low curse, he pulled out of her p***y suddenly. Dove gasped at the empty feeling. Her stretched hole twitched. A mix of her wetness and a little blood from losing her virginity covered his c**k. He stood up, towering over her small, shaking body on the bed.

"Leave the room before I get back," he said coldly, already heading to the bathroom. "Don't make me repeat myself."

He didn't wait for an answer. In the bathroom, he cleaned up fast—wiping the blood and her juices off his body, ignoring the pain in his arm. He put on a simple black Polo shirt that fit his muscles tight, dark jeans, and black leather slippers. Practical Storm.

When he came out, Dove was still on the bed,her legs were shaking badly as she tried to sit up. He knew she wouldn't be able to walk right away.

He opened the door and called to a maid walking in the hallway—Sophia. "Help my wife clean up. Get her comfortable and take her to her own room but don't let her leave the quarters until I say."

Sophia nodded and went inside as Storm walked away.