7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

ELIO

I wrap my fingers around the familiar handle of the nine-millimeter I keep on my nightstand, the action so automatic that it doesn’t matter that I’m not really awake yet. I’m still lost in a dream about being put over Orion’s knee and spanked that was so vivid I swear my ass cheeks are tingling with the phantom shape of his hand. My cock is rock hard, my vision bleary as I blink into the darkness of my bedroom, silky bedsheets tangled around my legs and I try to figure out what woke me.

Thud, thud, thud .

The thunderous pounding at my front door answers the question for me, jolting me out of bed, my heart racing for only a second before a steely sort of calm washes over me. Chances are good that it’s one of my soldiers at the door, possibly one of the more stupid capos with the idiotic idea to show up at my door in the middle of the night, banging down my door like the fucking Vandals at the gates of Rome.

I can’t imagine an assassin or one of Fitzpatrick’s men announcing themselves like this before an attempt on my life. But anything’s possible, which is why I cock my gun as I move silently through my dark apartment, my bare feet not making a single sound on the cool floor. My breathing is steady, my heart beating out an even rhythm as more rapid, urgent pounding rattles my eardrums the closer I get to the door.

This is why Lorenzo chose a building with two doormen. I opted for a place with more lax security in exchange for private rooftop access so I could plant a vegetable garden. I always feel smug about the decision when I’m enjoying juicy heirloom tomatoes fresh off the vine, but right now I’m willing to admit that my brother may have made the wiser choice. Not that I’d ever tell him that.

Thud, thud, thud, thud .

“Open the goddamn door, Elio.”

A hot shiver runs down my spine, melting my icy composure in an instant. The hair on my arms and the back of my neck stands on end, and my breath hitches. I lower my gun, making an automatic move to tuck it into my holster before realizing that not only am I not wearing one, I’m not wearing much of anything.

I turn the lock and pull the door open just an inch, leaning against the doorframe and peeking out through the crack, a slow, lazy smirk spreading over my lips as I take in the stuff wet dreams are made of. Orion is standing in my hallway, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, his face twisted with the kind of rage that might make a lesser man quake. Of course, it has the opposite effect on me. The soft cotton of my briefs pulls taut over the rapid swell of my cock.

“Or what? You’ll huff, and you’ll puff, and you’ll blow it down?” I taunt.

A muscle in his jaw twitches, and my eyes wander to the healing cut, the butterfly sutures still in place. The memory of his fingers tugging at my hair and his cock pummeling my throat makes my mouth water and my nipples tighten, my whole body vibrating with the urge to throw myself at him. Have I lost any ounce of dignity I’ve ever had when it comes to Orion? Absolutely. Do I care? Not even a little.

He puts a hand on the door and shoves it, hard, knocking me off balance just long enough to give him the chance to force his way inside. By any definition this is a home invasion, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he’s here to kill me. It’s a new level of fucked up that my dick twitches and I nearly pant at the thought. I’d rather die with Orion’s hands around my throat than have anyone else touch me at all.

As if he can read my thoughts, he uses one hand to swing the door closed behind him while he wraps the other around my throat and backs me up against the nearest wall. An accent table covered with priceless knick-knacks rattles next to me. For all the rage etched deeply into the lines of his face, his grip isn’t even hard enough to bruise—just enough to hold me in place. I dart my tongue out to wet my lips, letting him force me to my tip toes as he moves in close, bringing us chest to chest, nose to nose, my throbbing cock pressed right up against the unmistakable bulge in his jeans.

He might be pissed, but he’s getting off on this just as much as I am. Whether he wants to admit it to himself or not.

He bares his teeth in a feral snarl, his long hair hanging in loose, wild waves around his face.

“Why’d you do it?” The question is quiet, but dripping with menace. I’m not sure if I should blame lingering sleep fog or the fact that my dick refuses to share any of the blood flow with my brain right now for the fact that I don’t have the first clue what he’s talking about. He doesn’t wait for me to figure it out on my own though. “You think by paying off my debt you fucking own me? You wanted something to hang over my head? What?”

I don’t have a good answer. At least not one he’s likely to accept.

“How did you find out where I live?” I ask instead.

His fingers flex around my throat and the snarl curls into a dangerous smirk. “It wasn’t hard to figure out which side of town I’d find you on. You’d be surprised how many people in this neighborhood were more than happy to sell you out with the smallest amount of prompting.”

“Prompting?” I repeat with a chuckle. “Don’t tell me you did something as immoral as threatening someone.” I click my tongue in disapproval, barely managing to hold back the moan that swells in my chest at his answering growl of frustration, his body pressing harder against mine.

“I didn’t wave a fucking gun around,” he hisses.

The comment reminds me that mine is still clutched tightly in my hand.

“This is the reason you hate me?” I drag the barrel of the pistol along his hip. “Take it, then. I don’t need it.”

Orion scoffs, his eyes darkening as they bore into mine.

“I hate you because you lord over this city like a self-appointed monarchy. Your family lives with their hands around the throats of the rest of us, lining your pockets with our money and washing our blood off your shoes like it means nothing to any of you.” His words are more effective than any physical blow could ever be, rocking me and stunning me to silence. But he’s not done. “But the worst thing about you , Elio, is that you think you can have anything you want. You’re spoiled. You think you can walk into my life and start taking care of my problems like you’re my fucking daddy. I didn’t need a daddy when I was a kid, and I sure as fuck don’t need one now.” His nostrils flare and his hot breath fans over my lips, his eyes burning with an intensity that makes my heart flail and my body ache for him. “I have half a mind to pull your underwear down and beat your ass until you get it through your head that you can’t have every fucking thing you want.”

I can’t? That’s funny, because the only thing I want right now is exactly what he just threatened me with. I want it more than my next breath.

“Please,” I rasp, rocking my hips to drag my throbbing cock against him, my eyelids fluttering when he tightens his grip around my throat again, finally hard enough that I can feel the faint ache of bruises forming.

“You’re kind of fucked in the head, aren’t you?” Orion murmurs.

I can’t tell if it’s a compliment or an insult, but I nod regardless.

ORION

I didn’t spend half the night scouring bars all over the North side of Wildcliff for anyone who could tell me where Elio lived so I could come here and play sex games with him. But somehow, that’s exactly what seems to be happening.

He stumbles down the hallway with my hand still around his throat, barely enough light coming through the windows for me to see where I’m going. The squeak of my shoes on his polished wood floors is unnaturally loud in my ears, giving me an odd sense of satisfaction. I hope I’m leaving scuffs that he’ll have to get on his hands and knees to buff out later. I want to leave marks on the pristine facade of his life the same way I’m about to leave my handprints all over his bare ass.

My cock jerks and throbs, achingly hard inside my jeans as I find the living room and push Elio towards the couch.

“Lose the gun. Unless you’re actually planning to shoot me in the dick,” I bark.

He lets out a rough chuckle, his voice sounding raw and constricted even after I unwrap my fingers from around his throat.

“Yes, Boss.” The obedient words tumble so beautifully from his lips that they knock me off balance for half a second before filling me with a deep sense of satisfaction.

This night is getting away from me quickly, leaving me clawing for any bit of control I can get my hands on, and hearing the word ‘Boss’ on Elio’s tongue is scratching an itch that’s been neglected for too damn long. When everything else in my life feels like it’s spiraling and chaotic, sex has always been the one area where I have some sense of power. But ever since Jack’s injury, I haven’t had the time or energy to find anyone to play with. Not like this. And now here’s Elio, the bratty Mafia prince himself, eager to splay himself over my lap and offer his ass up to me, like he needs this as badly as I do.

He sets his pistol on the coffee table while I sit down on the deep leather couch. It’s not the kind of cheap leather that sticks to your bare skin and feels like it’s half plastic. No, it’s smooth as butter. It even smells expensive, like whoever delivered it wore a hazmat suit just to avoid the audacity of leaving a hair or an oily fingerprint anywhere on it.

My couch is held up by milk crates. Jack and I pulled it out of the trash ten years ago, laughing about it at the time and vowing that we’d get a new one as soon as the paychecks started rolling in. I grit my teeth at the injustice of it. The unfairness of the fact that Jack is stuck in that fucking bed relying on me to take care of him, and I can barely even do that. The absurdity of everything Elio has. The logical side of my brain knows that one has nothing to do with the other, but it’s something for me to latch onto right now.

I grit my teeth and snag Elio around the waist with one arm, using my free hand to yank his underwear down roughly at the same time. His ass cheeks jiggle and his cock springs free as I shove his briefs down around his thighs. He gasps, the sound half excitement, half fear, but entirely horny.

His round, perky ass cheek is right in front of my face, tan and flawless, without a mark on it. I lean forward and sink my teeth into it, biting down until he yelps and his cock jerks, a dribble of precum glistening in the light coming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“We’re not doing safewords. Cry or scream if you want, but if you say ‘stop,’ it’s over. So if you don’t want me to stop, you’d better bite your fucking tongue. Got it?” I rumble, and he bobs his head in agreement, swaying on his feet.

I tug him down and he stumbles, then falls across my lap, splayed out on the couch with his ass in the air, his hard cock pressed against my denim-clad thighs. I drag my eyes over the long, lean lines of his body, his smooth, unblemished skin. He lets out a rattling breath, his shoulders relaxing and his body sagging across my lap like he doesn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. Like he trusts me.

The hot, boiling hate churning in my gut turns into something else for a minute, something deeper and more primal. I raise my hand high and bring it down hard against his ass cheek with a resounding thwack that echoes through the room and vibrates in my palm. Elio yelps, just like he did before, clenching his cheeks tightly, then relaxing again and pushing his hips into the air to wordlessly beg for another one.

I do it again, landing the next blow right over the spot where I bit him, hoping he’ll have a bruise in the shape of my teeth tomorrow morning. If he was trying to buy me by paying off my debt, he’ll see the mark and know his plan backfired. He’s not going to put a collar around my neck and lead me around on a diamond-studded leash. Although, I have to admit, the idea has its merits if I imagine Elio as the one collared.

Thwack, thwack, thwack . My hand cracks against his ass over and over, warming his skin, drawing muffled whimpers from him with every fresh slap. His cheeks ripple and his back hitches with every trembling breath he drags in. He digs his fingers into the smooth leather of the couch and arches into every blow I deliver.

The rage that was coiled tightly in my chest when I came pounding at his door is already twisting and contorting inside of me, turning into something different, something I don’t want but can’t stop.

When I’m in the ring, every hit I deliver only winds my insides tighter. There’s no release, no relief, just mounting violence and adrenaline with nowhere to go. This is the exact opposite. I swing my hand down to connect with the back of Elio’s thigh and the fury inside me bleeds out little by little, helped along by the soft mewling sounds the supposedly dangerous gangster is making as he rocks his hips to grind his cock against my thighs.

I hate him , I remind myself, peppering a series of rapid-fire slaps across the upper swell of his ass, heating the spots I missed before, covering every inch of his backside with stinging handprints. My cock pulses and drools precum, leaving the inside of my boxers sticky while my heart thunders in my ears. But no matter how loud my pulse is, it’s not enough to drown out the needy sounds that continue to fall from Elio’s lips.

“Please,” he pants, squirming and humping my thigh. “I’ll be good, Boss.”

The promise I didn’t ask for tears at something deep inside of me, winding me up, making me want to bite him again, to spank him harder, to do anything I can to make him say it again, while simultaneously wanting to shove something into his mouth so he can’t utter another word.

Elio’s reddened ass flexes, his muscles clenching as he thrusts faster, shamelessly grinding his cock into my thighs as he claws at the sofa. His toes curl and scramble for purchase and his precum soaks through the denim of my jeans to dampen my skin. I grab his ass cheek harshly, digging my fingers into his abused flesh to part his cheeks. He hisses and moans, trying to hold himself still but failing after only a second and returning to his wild, unrestrained humping.

I slap two fingers over his quivering hole with the same force as the other spanks I’ve delivered, and he wails. I can see his balls tightening, feel the stiffness of his cock as he fucks my lap. All the thoughts I had of wanting to cause him pain are muddled now with the inescapable need to make him come. Like if I don’t, I might actually die.

I squeeze his ass cheek again, dragging my fingers down his crease until I reach his balls. I wrap my fingers around them and give a rough tug, and Elio convulses, moaning from deep in his gut and bucking against my lap like an animal in heat. A sob tears from his throat and his cock starts to pulse, his balls twitching in my grip as his release soaks through my jeans.

Heat licks at my skin, the urges to kiss him and bite him warring with each other as I use my free hand to land a few more sound smacks against his cheeks, his orgasm going on and on, making him tense and twitch and moan over my lap until he finally collapses, boneless.

I grunt and dump him onto the couch, freeing myself from underneath him. He barely moves, just flops down like a rag doll as I work my pants open and kneel over him. I put one hand on the middle of his back to pin him down, even though he’s showing no signs of wanting to get away. I doubt he would even if he had the energy to after an orgasm like that.

I wrap my hand around my shaft and lean down to bite the back of his shoulder, sinking my teeth in and then dragging my tongue over the tender spot. I work my hand over my length frantically and bite him again, leaving marks across the expanse between his shoulder blades and the back of his neck. I can taste the sweat on his skin, but it’s overpowered by the flavor of expensive soap—something woodsy, even though I doubt he ever bothers to leave the city. I cling to that petty irritation as hard as I can, pressing the tip of my cock to his heated ass cheeks, rubbing my slick head over the crease without bringing it anywhere near the temptation of his hole.

He arches into me again, and I clench my teeth around a groan as my balls pull tight and my cock starts to pulse. The last dregs of the rage that drew me here tonight are wrung out as I shout my orgasm, my hand flying over my cock at a brutal pace, rope after rope of my cum splattering over Elio’s abused ass cheeks, my face pressed into the back of his neck.

I grind against him until my balls are drained. My knees quake and the cum-drunk idea to collapse on top of him, to cuddle him, nearly overtakes me. But I climb off of him before I can do anything that stupid. Elio doesn’t move except to turn his head as I tuck my cock away and zip my cum-stained jeans.

It’s too dark to tell, but it looks like there might be tear stains on his cheek. The whoosh of blood in my ears is a white noise that feels like a stark contrast to the intensity of what just happened between us. Like stepping outside into a silent night after a concert, leaving your ears ringing and your chest feeling empty.

“That guy you shot in the dick… did he touch you?” The words are out of my mouth without any conscious decision to ask the question, my voice harsh and breathless. I’m not sure why I care, or if the story is even true.

He lets out a dark chuckle. “He tried.”

Elio’s the last person who needs my concern or protection, and I don’t really want to give it to him, but that doesn’t stop the tight swell of anger from bubbling up inside of me.

“And he’s dead now?” I ask.

“Yup.” Just a single word. Succinct without a hint of remorse. I should add it to the long list of proof that Elio and everyone like him is a monster to be avoided at all costs. Instead, I nod with satisfaction.

“Good.”

He watches me silently and I stare right back, mentally grasping for the fleeting wisps of control that are already out of my reach again. When I can’t stare back at him any longer, I reach into my pocket and hold up the roll of cash, making sure he sees it before I set it down on the table next to his gun.

“I pay my own debts.”

I’m expecting him to argue, and for a second it looks like he’s going to, but then he just nods.

I leave without another word, and on the elevator ride back down to the lobby, I try to figure out how exactly things went so far off the rails tonight. Elio’s like a drug, getting into my veins and making me do things I know I shouldn’t. And just like a drug, I’m cursing him and wondering when I can get my next hit before my feet even touch pavement again.