The Trillionaire’s Runaway Bride… Is A Man

“Uhm- stop! Fvck, Alessandro!”

The man beneath me was growling and snarling like a wild animal, bucking back against me. A soft moan lifted from my lips as he continued hammering into my tight bum. He made me turn to face him as I caught my breath. He stopped thrusting but his hard cock is still inside of me.

It was a brutal claim, full of teeth, and desperate hunger, forcing my surrender to his will and passion. A no-mercy kiss.

There was only a mouth on mine, his hand holding me, his body pinning me. And just like that, everything I’d felt is like seeing those icy predator eyes of his, the woody-acrid scent of his cigarette, being on my knees for him.

And he kissed me like it was real for him too.

When he drew back, I felt taken and tender, mouth-fucked afresh.

His eyes held mine, dazed and wild, gleaming with all the light from the horizon at my back.

“Alessandro, I-”

“You lied to me.”

His voice was calm.

That was the worst part.

I would have preferred shouting. Anger. A slammed door. A broken glass against the wall. Anything but this cold, measured silence that made my pulse race harder than yelling ever could.

The veil was gone. The gloves were gone. But I could still feel the weight of that wedding dress on my skin, like the lie I had wrapped around myself hadn’t fully come off.

I forced myself to meet his gaze. “I did what I had to do.”

He watched me for a long second, unreadable.

Then he kissed me again.

This time it was slower.

More deliberate.

More devastating.

He conquered me by inches, like he had all the time in the world to prove exactly how powerless I was in this room. By the time he drew back, he was breathing harder, a faint flush touching the high planes of his face. One loose strand of dark hair had fallen across his forehead, and for one humiliating second, I had the ridiculous urge to reach out and brush it away.

His dark eyes stayed locked on mine.

“My sister disappeared,” I said, my voice rougher than I wanted. “My family would have been destroyed.”

“So you put on a dress,” he said evenly, “walked down the aisle, and took her place to marry me.”

My jaw tightened. “You already knew.”

“I suspected.”

A beat passed.

“Now I know.”

“Then end it,” I shot back. “Get the marriage annulled and punish my family if that’s what you want.”

A low, humorless laugh escaped him.

“You think this ends with annulment?”

Suddenly, he pulled out nearly all the way, letting the head of his cock stretch on my opening before slamming home again. It was like his di*ck was held in a velvety vise. I hate to admit it but being inside of me was better than breathing. Nothing in the world felt so perfect. Each thrust was punctuated by a grunt or a filthy command, directing Alessandro straight to my prostate.

“Ahh!” I tried to moan quietly as possible but it was hard.

My own orgasm was already tightening his balls and tingling with an electric kiss down my spine, but there was no fucking way he was going over before me.

Sliding the hand on his back up into Alessandro’s thick black hair, he twisted it, earning a low hiss. He leaned over and wrapped his other hand around my leaking cock. He stroked me at that same pace he was using to pound into my ass. Muscles tightened. My sleek body tensed and jerked a second before he shouted his release. Alessandro’s loud voice filled the room, briefly drowning out the frantic pounding of my heartbeat in his ears, before he shouted as well.

He did not waste a second to stand up and leave me with his cum. We were both naked and covered in sweat, semen, and bite marks.

“You embarrassed me in front of half the country,” he said quietly. “You signed my name beside yours using a lie.”

I lifted my chin. “So what now?”

His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes.

“Now,” he said, “you learn what happens when you deceive me.”

Before I could answer, his hand closed around my wrist and pulled me.

His fingers brushed my jaw, almost gentle, and tilted my face upward.

The touch sent a sharp shiver through me.

“You still don’t understand,” he said quietly.

“After this, do you think I will listen to you?” I shook my head. “I lied, yes. But you took advantage of me, using my body as if it’s yours to claim.”

He scoffed. A hint of disbelief form in his eyes. “You are mine, Yvo. I just claimed what is supposed to be mine. Fucking my bride.”

“But I am not her!”

“You were. We just got married,” he answered, lifting his left hand to show me his wedding ring.

Shit!

“And if you still cannot understand the consequences of your lies, I am willing to remind you every fucking second. Or you want me to just tell you?” he added.

My throat tightened. “Then explain it to me.”

His mouth curved slightly, but there was no warmth in it.

“You walked into my wedding under a veil, spoke vows in another person’s place, and signed your name beside mine through deception.” His thumb moved once against my skin, slow enough to make my breath catch. “Why would I let you leave so easily?”

My heart slammed harder against my ribs.

Because that was the truth I had been trying not to face.

Divorce had been my only plan. My only weapon. My only hope of controlling any part of this disaster.

And Alessandro was taking even that away from me.

I swallowed. “What do you want from me?”

His gaze dropped to my mouth again.

The room felt smaller. Hotter.

“Obedience,” he said.

I gave a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “You married the wrong twin for that.”

At that, something dark and amused flickered in his eyes.

“I know.” He leaned closer, close enough that the next words brushed against my lips. “That’s what makes this so interesting.”

My breath caught.

His hand slid from my jaw to the back of my neck, not rough, not tender either, just firm enough to remind me that I was still exactly where he wanted me.

“Listen carefully, Yvo,” he said.

The sound of my real name on his lips hit harder than it should have.

“This marriage stays.”

I stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious.”

“You’d rather keep a liar as your spouse than admit your perfect wedding was a disaster?” I asked him sarcastically.

His expression didn’t change.

“I’d rather keep the man bold enough to deceive me than waste time chasing the woman who ran.”

The words struck me as silent.

For the first time that night, genuine shock broke through my anger.

He saw it.

Of course he did.

And Alessandro, ruthless, unreadable Alessandro, smiled.

Not kindly.

He just fucked me!

Like a man who had just found something unexpectedly dangerous and decided to keep it.

“You’re trapped now,” I whispered.

“No,” he said softly.

Then he leaned in until there was barely any space left between us.

“You are.”

I should have hated the way my pulse leapt at that. I should have shoved him away and demanded the door, demanded freedom, demanded anything except standing there frozen under the weight of his gaze.

Instead, I stayed still.

Because beneath the anger, beneath the panic, beneath the humiliation of being caught that there was something worse.

Something hotter.

Maybe I’m feeling this because of what he did to me.

The unbearable knowledge that Alessandro Montenegro wanted this battle between us to continue.

And maybe, in some reckless, foolish part of me, I wanted it too.

He released me at last and stepped back, putting his shirt back and his pants as though he hadn’t just tilted my entire world off balance.

“Get some rest,” he said.

I let out a bitter laugh. “You think I can sleep after this?”

He turned toward the bar, pouring himself a drink with maddening calm.

“You’ll learn.”

I stared at his broad back, at the complete control in every movement, and hated how the room still felt charged with him.

Then he glanced at me over his shoulder.

“Tomorrow morning,” he said, “you’ll have breakfast with my board.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You’ll sit beside me. You’ll smile when necessary. You’ll say very little.” His gaze sharpened. “And you’ll play the role you chose the moment you walked down that aisle.”

I pushed myself upright slowly, furious at how breathless I sounded when I asked, “Why?”

He adjusted his cuff with maddening calm, like he hadn’t just pinned me to his bed and made my heart beat like I was the one who had lost control.

“Because now that I know who you are,” he said, “I find you far more interesting than the bride I was supposed to marry.”

I stared at him, stunned into silence.

Then he looked at me with that same cool, unreadable expression and delivered the final blow.

“So get used to this bed, Yvo.”

He paused.

“Also, you’ll be sleeping in it as my spouse… or wife. I don’t mind as long as you’re doing your job.”

My fingers curled into my palms. “I’m not your puppet.”

“No,” Alessandro said.

His eyes traveled over me one slow, dangerous time.

“You’re my punishment.”

The words landed like a brand.

I should have answered.

I should have fought.

But all I could do was sit there in the fading remains of a wedding dress, staring at the man I had deceived, the man who now refused to let me go, and realize the truth too late.

My sister had run from this marriage.

And I had fallen straight into it.