Page 10

Story: Control

“What?”

“Are you going to be good, or am I going to have to make you say those exact words?”

She doesn’t hesitate this time, her voice sweet as she repeats the words. I enjoy sex and the thrill of it all, but most of all, I relish being dominant. I like to be in control. This is my world, but I’ve learned that with women like her, I have to include them in their own degradation. Otherwise, it’s not going to be much fun.

I push her down onto the edge of the bed and begin to remove my belt. “Open your legs for me.”

She hesitates, opening them just an inch while propping herself on her elbow to look up at me.

“I said, open your fucking legs for me and take my cock.”

This time, she parts them wide as I slip between her thighs and pull my throbbing cock out of my pants. Then, I thrust deep inside her forcefully, not minding her soft cries. She wants this. We both do. I pump in and out slowly at first, but soon enough, I pick up the pace. In my mind’s eye, I can see Daniela and feel her wet, tight pussy inviting me to fuck her like she’s never been fucked before.

I smack the brunette’s tits hard. The first time surprises both of us, eliciting a little giggle, but the second and third hits landwith more force. I relish the sound of my hand connecting with her skin, and by the time I stop, her tits are flushed and red.

“You deserve a little pain, love.”

“Please…”

I use my fingers to peel her folds apart as I thrust deeply inside her. I don’t slow down, driving into her fiercely, consumed by the need for someone I shouldn’t want but desperately do. “No, don’t close your eyes. I want you to look at me when you come.”

It’s a command, not a request. I want to see the way her face contorts with pleasure. I want to hear her gasp my name.

“Yes, sir…oh God, fuck…please…”

I wrap a hand around her throat, moving in and out of her with my mouth slightly parted, growling down at her. My thrusts are rough, and my grip is tight, but I don’t stop. Not when it feels this good. Just as I sense her building climax, I pull out and yank her roughly onto her knees. “Suck me. Yeah, go on, take my cock in your mouth. Fuck, good girl. Go deeper, faster…that’s right, suck the sweetness off of me.”

She takes me deep, gagging as I push her further. I grip her hair, holding her in place as I release my load into her mouth and all over it. “That’s good.”

When I’m done, I pull away, button my pants, and head to the bar for another drink. She stays kneeling on the bed, breathless, like she’s trying to figure out what just happened.

“What, are you waiting for a hug? Get out.”

She scrambles to her feet and yanks her shirt on with the buttons all messed up. I walk over to the door and call for one of the guards. “Take her home. I don’t want to see her again.”

That’s how things go with me. It never changes.

The rest of the night is a blur—phone calls, meetings, all the crap that doesn’t matter. Before I know it, I’m back in my office with my mind still stuck on her. Even though she’s miles away, Ican feel her presence like it’s still here, like it’s pressing on me. I should be thinking about the rat in the crew or the other factions trying to make a move. But all I can focus on is why she’s still in my head.

I leave the blinds open, looking out over the city below. I think about the people I’ve buried—faces that stopped meaning anything a long time ago. The men who thought they could mess with me but ended up learning the hard way. You don’t cross Remo Callegari and walk away.

But then I think of her.

And for the first time in forever, I don’t feel like I have control.

Chapter 4

Daniela

The sounds wake me up in the dark. At first, it’s just the usual street noise—distant honking, the shuffle of feet, the occasional shout. But this feels different.

I sit up slowly, pulling my knees to my chest while trying to calm the racing in my chest. That’s when I hear it—the unmistakable sound of boots. Heavy. Measured. Like they’re here for something.

I slide my hand under the pillow, my fingers curling around the cold metal of my knife. It’s a reflex, one I can’t help. It’s the only thing that ever made me feel like I had some control in this godforsaken neighborhood.

Then, the door slams open.

I don’t flinch. I don’t scream. But the chill running down my spine? It’s real. My heart beats harder, as though it’s trying to break out of my chest, and my grip tightens on the knife. Whoever’s coming, they won’t be expecting a fight.