Page 19

Chapter 19

DANTE

Goddamn do Doc Gio’s pills pack a punch. Waking up in bed, tangled up in silky sheets, wearing an oversized t-shirt from a college I didn’t go to and a shoulder sling, I can’t remember anything after the doctor gave me those pills. I’m guessing Salvatore put me to bed? Through the haze of adrenaline and pain pills, a lot of yesterday is a blur. Lucky for me, I have the ache in my shoulder and the bandage on my arm to bring certain moments into sharp focus.

I shift and my shoulder gives another sharp twinge. The memory of my attacker’s hot breath on the back of my neck makes my stomach roil, while the ghost of his words echoes in my ears.

“ Don just wants the truth to come out. ”

What good would it do now? It won’t give him the last ten years of his life back. If I could go back in time and change anything, I’d make sure he got a longer sentence. It’s what he deserves. He doesn’t care about the truth, he just wants his power back, but he’s not going to get it from me. The fear I felt yesterday twists and pulses inside me, turning into the fury I’m comfortable with. Don can’t break me. I won’t let him.

It’s weird how the new sense of resolve dulls the pain in my shoulder to something almost manageable. I shift to put all my weight on my good arm and push myself into a sitting position. I must have slept for at least twelve hours, but I still feel exhausted. Even the thought of dragging myself out of bed to take a piss and get some coffee sounds like a goddamn marathon. Is Luca back today? If he is, I’m about to grill his ass about what the fuck Antonio’s problem is. Assuming Antonio isn’t dead in the guest bathroom, of course. Again though, getting out of bed to harass Luca sounds like a lot of fucking work right now. If I shout for Luca, will he scurry in here with some coffee for me like the sweet barista puppy that he is?

Only one way to find out.

“Luca!” His name is barely out of my mouth before the bedroom door creaks open. It’s not my eager young bodyguard on the other side though.

I almost don’t recognize Salvatore for a second. Instead of a tailored suit or even an expensive silk robe, he’s wearing a ratty t-shirt similar to the one I have on and a pair of gray sweatpants, dick print included. He’s holding a steaming mug, and he quirks an eyebrow at me.

“I don’t love hearing you scream another man’s name, Angioletto.” His words trigger a foggy memory from last night, more of a feeling than anything concrete; the word mine sinking deep into my bones and making me feel… safe.

He nears the bed, the smell of fresh coffee with a hint of cinnamon tickles my nose and immediately improves my mood.

“What do I have to scream to get that coffee from you?” I groan, reaching out with my good hand.

A smirk twists on his lips, and he holds the mug just out of my reach.

“I was planning to be nice and pamper you this morning, but now that you mention it, I’d love to hear you beg for it.” There’s a husky rumble in his throat and I can’t keep my eyes from wandering down to the shape of his cock pressed against the fabric of his gray sweats, thick and only half-hard.

I don’t know what he’s done to me, but just hearing the teasing command to beg makes my cock start to swell in spite of the general achiness in my body. Maybe he was right all along, not that I’ll ever tell him that. Maybe I wanted to see myself as a Dom because it was safer. I’ve never trusted anyone enough to be vulnerable or to risk feeling weak… I’ve never trusted anyone at all , if I’m being honest. Another fuzzy memory from last night surfaces.

“ I lied. ”

“ To Don? ”

Even after what Antonio said, after someone literally branded me a liar for the world to see, Salvatore’s first thought was that I lied to someone else, not to him. I barely understand the feelings churning inside me; soft and sweet and too chaotic to grab on to, but I understand the playful, teasing smile on Sal’s face, and that’s somewhere for me to start.

I lick my lips with a slow drag of my tongue, holding his gaze and softening my expression.

“Please, please let me put that hot coffee in my mouth,” I plead with an exaggerated breathlessness.

He lets out a low growl and his cock visibly jerks. Every good Dom knows that the sub holds the real power, but knowing it and feeling it firsthand are two different things. Salvatore would do anything for me, to protect me, to make me happy. I’m just not quite ready to think about why.

“How you can manage to be a brat even when you’re begging is beyond me.” He shakes his head, the smile still firmly on his lips, and sets the coffee down on the nightstand. Then, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out two different pill bottles. “How are you feeling? I have the good shit Gio gave you last night or extra strength over-the-counter stuff.”

“It hurts, but I don’t want to spend the whole day high as a kite again,” I answer, pointing at the bottle of over-the-counter pills. He shakes a few into his hand and holds them out for me. “Why aren’t you working?” I ask, tossing the pills into my mouth before taking the coffee Salvatore finally hands me to swallow them down.

He gives me a flat look in answer to my question. A look that says don’t be stupid. Of course I’m home when you need me . That feeling flutters inside me again and I duck my head to take another sip of my coffee.

“Is Antonio dead?” I ask.

His expression darkens at the mention of Antonio’s name.

“Not yet, as far as I know. Gio patched him up and got him out of here after you passed out. It’s pretty fucking convenient that you were attacked right after he left.”

So he caught that too? I guess I’m not surprised, this is his world after all, and I’m sure he’s used to keeping an eye out for rats. I nod in agreement and consider asking what he’s going to do to Antonio now. Will he be followed? Have his phone tapped? Will one of the Morettis simply torture the truth out of him before they kill him? I’m not sure I really care. I didn’t want to watch him die, and I didn’t want it to be my fault, but if he’s been working with Don or doing anything to betray the Morettis, then I’m not going to lose any sleep over it either.

“Luca taught you about the cinnamon in the coffee,” I say instead, taking another sip.

His expression darkens again, but in a more playful way this time. “I taught Luca,” he corrects me. “Are you just baiting me or do you have a little crush on my nephew?” He takes the empty coffee cup from me and sets it back on the nightstand.

I sputter a laugh. “On Luca? Hell no. He’s adorable and all, but he’s way too sub—” I bite down on my tongue to stop the rest of that word from coming out, but it’s too late.

Salvatore’s lips curl into a wicked smile. “Too submissive for you?” He leans over the bed, bracing his hands on the mattress and bringing his face close to mine. “Are you finally ready to admit how much you love knowing that I’m going to take care of everything? Your pleasure, your safety, whatever you need, Angel, you just ask sweetly, beg for it, and it’s yours.”

My whole body relaxes with his words, that steady, commanding tone of his voice that dares me to question the promises he’s making. I sway towards him, my lips brushing his. He pulls back an inch, teasing me with a grin.

“Anything?” I chase his lips, but he pulls back again, making me be the one to work for it for a change. “Fuck me.” The words startle me as they fall off my tongue, but my cock hardens and a wave of heat licks at my skin, making it impossible for me to take them back or play it off as a joke.

“That’s what you want? With your arm in a sling and everything that happened yesterday still fresh?” He cups my chin gently and looks into my eyes.

I bite my lip and nod. I want to erase the memory of a stranger’s hands and putrid breath on my skin with this instead. I want to hurt in ways I ask for. I won’t wallow in feeling weak and scared.

“Then you know what you have to do, Angioletto.” His voice is a low rasp, his cock fully straining against his sweatpants now, stiff enough that I can see the fabric molding around his thick mushroom head and his swollen length.

I swallow hard, pushing away the vulnerability and shame I’ve always attached to admitting that I want someone, to letting myself feel anything other than rage. I reach out with my good arm and grab a fistful of the front of his shirt.

“Please, Salvatore, fuck me. Fill me up with your cock, make me forget that my body can feel anything other than pleasure. Please,” I whisper the last word less than an inch from his lips, the minty flavor of his toothpaste puffing against my mouth with every one of his exhales.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he growls, finally crashing his lips into mine.

He sweeps his tongue into my mouth like he owns me, and I whimper around it, shedding another few tendrils of fear with the sound. He wants me like this, needy and eager and trusting him to be all the things he promised. I’m not sure I could give him all of this if I weren’t so sure that he likes all the other parts of me too. He doesn’t want to break me or force me to be his submissive pet, he just wants me to know I can be as desperate and horny and shameless as I want to be, and he’ll never think less of me.

Salvatore swallows my whimpers and trades them for deep, rumbling moans of his own that vibrate around my tongue as he crawls onto the bed and hovers over me, his hands braced on the pillow, his thighs pinning me down. He breaks the kiss and brings one hand to my jaw, caressing my skin with the pad of his thumb and holding my gaze.

“I don’t want to hurt you, so you’re going to have to behave. Understand?”

I bob my head eagerly, canting my hips to drag my hard, needy cock against his through our clothes.

“Please, please, please,” I murmur. The word isn’t even hard to say anymore. Not when his eyes are dark with lust and his mouth is red and damp from kissing me.

“First test, Angioletto. Let’s see if you can manage to follow directions,” he purrs. “Don’t move.”

“Where am I going to go? Out for a leisurely brunch in my underwear with my cock about to put someone’s eye out?” I huff.

Salvatore chuckles, then he lets go of my face and sits up, straddling my waist but holding himself carefully so he doesn’t put too much weight on me.

“Hey,” I complain, reaching for him again.

He arches an eyebrow and looks pointedly at my outstretched hand. “I said, don’t move . Want to try it again?”

I narrow my eyes then set my hand back down, right over my cock with a challenging smirk.

“Move again before I say so, and we’re done for this morning. Say, ‘yes, Sir.’”

“Fuck off, Sir .”

His eyes flash and his grin widens. “We’re getting closer, Angel.”

I roll my eyes. That doesn’t count as moving, does it? Apparently not because he doesn’t scold me again, but he does shift his weight slowly then climb off the bed. I make a disgruntled noise, but I manage to hold still this time. Salvatore strips his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. The man looks like a snack in those suits of his, but he’s a whole-ass meal naked. His chest and belly are covered in dark hair and lean, defined muscles. If I hadn’t spent the last week determined to prove to both of us that sex was his demand and not something I wanted, I could have spent some time rubbing my face all over the soft hair on his chest and tonguing the hard buds of his dark nipples, I could have mapped his body with my mouth the way he’s done with mine countless nights.

If I’m brave enough to admit it next time, maybe he’ll let me.

My cock twitches under my hand as he shoves his pants down and kicks them off, leaving his dick hard and swinging between his thighs. I’ve never worked harder to not move in my life, my muscles twitching with the effort, the defiant part of my brain tempting me to wiggle just to call his bluff. He saunters across the room, keeping one eye always trained on me, and opens the top drawer on his dresser to pull out a bottle of lube.

I swear he’s walking at half speed just to test me, taking his sweet time making his way back around to my side of the bed.

“That’s good, sweetheart.” He rewards me with soft praise and an even softer kiss.

His touch is so gentle it aches. I sink my teeth into his bottom lip, but all he does is hiss. He doesn’t kiss me any harder, doesn’t grab my jaw with bruising fingers, doesn’t even scold me. Weirdly, that soothes me a little. He’s a sturdy structure in a raging storm—it doesn’t matter how hard I batter against the outside, I won’t shake him.

Salvatore hooks his fingers in the waistband of my briefs and leans over the bed to drag kisses along the inside of my thighs as he tugs them down. He tosses them aside just like he did with his own clothes. He leaves my shirt on, since my sling is in the way, but pushes it up a few inches, teasing his tongue around the rim of my belly button, his stubble abrading my sensitive skin. My cock bobs untouched and drools a strand of sticky precum onto my stomach, and Salvatore laps it up with a groan like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“Can I move yet?” I whine, digging my teeth into my bottom lip, my thighs trembling with the urge to thrust, to search for his hot mouth with my cock.

“Yes, but only to shuffle over here. I’d move you myself, but I think there’s more risk I’ll hurt your shoulder that way.” He shows me where he wants me.

I roll my eyes again and sit up. “I’m not that fragile.”

“I’ll decide that for today. Unless you’re done playing?”

I bristle and then relax. He doesn’t think I’m weak, he just… cares . The realization hits me with a wave of confusion and more chaotic emotions. And, fine, maybe scooting my ass over to the side of the bed does hurt more than I want to admit out loud.

“Lay down, head towards me,” he commands, patting the spot he wants me in again.

I gingerly shuffle into place. “What are you—” As soon as I lie down, his cock fills my vision, swaying just over my face as my head hangs off the bed. “Oh.”

Salvatore wraps his hand around the base of his cock and drags the tip of it over my lips.

“Open wide for me, Angioletto. You’re going to keep my cock nice and warm and wet while I get your tight little hole ready. And you’re going to stay still and behave.”

My insides give an empty, needy ache and saliva pools in my mouth.

“Yes,” I gasp, nodding eagerly before opening my mouth wide.

SALVATORE

I couldn’t come up with a wet dream this perfect if I tried. My Angel with his legs spread and his hard cock drooling, his mouth open in invitation and his eyes drifting closed with a blissful look of relaxation. If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if I gave him the wrong pills, or maybe that he’s still a little stoned from the ones he took last night. But I think he’s just starting to realize he’s safe with me. I’ll never be a white knight, but I’ll fucking kill anyone who tries to hurt him. It doesn’t get safer than that, does it?

I tease the tip of my cock around his lips again, watching the even, calm breaths that move through his chest, and it crashes over me again how fucking close I came to losing him yesterday. I can’t. I won’t.

But my rage and anxiety aren’t what Dante needs right now. He needs to feel good. He needs me to help him let go. He needs his husband, not a Moretti this morning, and that’s what he’s going to get.

I fit my cock between his lips, my balls tightening instantly at the slippery heat that surrounds me, the long, stretched column of his throat bobbing with a swallow as I ease inside. I wrap one hand gently around his throat so I can feel the bulge of his Adam’s apple as my cock slips past the soft, fleshy place at the back of his tongue that constricts and flutters with every swallow and gag. A moan rumbles through me and my cock spasms.

“Can you breathe like this, Angel?” I check, my voice husky and strained. Dante’s nostrils flare and his chest expands. “Good,” I groan.

I reach for the bottle of lube I set on the bed, my cock shifting inside his throat, sending licks of electricity and heat through me. I click it open and pour a generous amount onto my fingers.

“Bend your knees,” I command, giving in to the undeniable urge to roll my hips and bury my cock another inch deeper before I force myself to hold still again.

He makes muffled sounds as he bends his knees and spreads his legs a little wider, each one vibrating down my shaft and settling in my balls. Leaning forward shifts my cock inside his throat again, and I brace one hand on the bed and slide my slicked fingers into the warm crease between his ass cheeks. I can’t see what I’m doing from this position, but the tight pucker of his hole isn’t hard to find.

“Do you know how long I’ve been dreaming about feeling you stretched around my cock, Angel?” I growl, circling his rim with the pads of two fingers. Unlike most of the rest of his body, his hole isn’t waxed or shaved, there’s a soft little whorl of hair that clings to my fingers. Because unlike the rest of his body, it’s a part he doesn’t let the world see.

A possessive, primal sound rumbles in my throat. Dante’s cock twitches and weeps against his trembling belly and his hole flutters under my fingertips. His throat squeezes around my cock with a swallow and my fingers jerk, the tips slipping into his tight entrance. We both groan, his mixed with a gag and mine full of the same guttural sense of ownership and need as the last sound I made.

I’m sure if his mouth wasn’t full, he would remind me that I don’t have to be careful with him, that he can take it rough, without all of the lube and slow, torturous fingering. But his mouth is full, and even if it wasn’t, I’m in charge. I slide my fingers deeper, his inner muscles gripping around them before relaxing. I could live the rest of my life right here, with my cock throbbing in the sleeve of Dante’s throat and my fingers buried in his ass. I lean forward a little more to press an open-mouthed kiss to his smooth thigh as I work my fingers in the last inch.

“Have you ever been edged, Angel?” I murmur, kissing back and forth across the small expanse of his thigh I can reach in this position, pumping my fingers excruciatingly slowly in and out. “I think I might spend all morning playing with your hole until you’re so wild for me that you explode the second you have my cock inside you.”

I groan again at the thought of Dante sinking down onto my cock, his head lolling back and his cum spurting out in a fountain of sticky ropes before I’m even all the way inside of him. I fist the sheets to keep myself from fucking his mouth and chasing the pleasure I’m right on the edge of too.

He whimpers and the sound around my cock is almost enough to end things.

“No one’s ever taken so much time with your pleasure, have they?” I shove my fingers deeper, pressing my palm against his taut, hot sac just hard enough to drag another gagging whine from him. “That’s why you’re such a brat, isn’t it, sweetheart? You’re just weeding out all the weak men who don’t know how to give you what you need.”

I plunge my fingers in and out in a steady rhythm, watching the flush of his cock and the dribble of his precum. His thighs start to tremble, and his cock stiffens a little more. Closer, closer, closer . Just when he starts to pant around my cock, I pull my fingers out so only the tips are tugging at his rim again.

Dante’s body sags and quakes, his chest heaving and his throat tightening around me with every pant and swallow. When he settles, I slide my fingers deep and start all over again, torturing both of us, riding the razor’s edge of pleasure until the air in the bedroom is humid from our sweat and heavy breathing, and our skin is slick.

Again and again, I finger him right up to the edge. And every time, he gets there a little quicker, until even with my fingertips resting on his rim, I can still feel the twitch and pulse of his hovering orgasm, feel the vibration of his needy whines in his throat. My cock throbs right along with him, twitching against his tongue, my balls painfully heavy and tight.

It’s almost impossible to make myself pull out. Just the drag of his tongue and lips as I ease out of his mouth is almost enough to set me off. His bottom lip tugs at the wrinkle of my foreskin and a shudder racks my body. Dante’s chin is soaked with his own saliva and his eyes are glassy and faraway when he slowly blinks them open.

“Please,” he croaks. “Please, Salvatore, I need your cock. Oh god, I need it so bad. I can’t… I need… please .” He whimpers and moans, his lips swollen and voice raw from having my cock buried in his throat for so long.

“It’s yours, Angel. Come here.” He scrambles clumsily to sit up and turn himself around.

I grab his hips and drag him right to the edge of the bed.

“You’re mine,” I growl, digging my fingers into his hips as he wraps his legs around me. “Say it, Angioletto. Tell me you’re mine.”

He lets out a little sob as my cock notches against his soft, wet, fluttering hole.

“Yours,” he gasps. “I’m yours, Salvatore.” He swallows hard. “Sir.”

That one word rocks my body. I slam my lips into his, tasting the salty sweetness of my precum on his lips and the sweat on his face as I thrust into him in one long, deep stroke. It’s just like I imagined, better than I imagined. His inner muscles give way, wrapping around me and dragging me inside, and before I’m even fully seated, he lets out a strangled cry and starts to pulse around me. Thick stripes of his cum paint my belly and soak into his shirt as I pull back and fill him again, growling against his lips as I fuck him through every tugging, squeezing, fucking perfect wave of pleasure before giving in to my own. Our mouths bump together in a not-quite kiss, sharing breath and trading gut-deep moans of pleasure as my thrusts stutter and the heat that’s been building in my gut finally explodes.

I rock into him, moaning with every spurt of cum I fill him with, marking him, claiming him, consummating this marriage that he still hasn’t figured out is real. He’ll understand eventually that I’m never letting him go.

I bury my face in the crook of his neck and pull his body against me carefully, matching the tremors that rock him as we both catch our breath and ride out the lingering aftershocks of our orgasms. Dante presses kisses along the side of my neck and across my jaw, with surprisingly little teeth.

If I tell him I love him, will he believe me? He’ll probably think I’m only saying it because of what happened yesterday, or that I’m too cum-drunk to mean it.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and I chuckle, easing my softening dick out of the vice grip of his hole with a groan. “Oh god, I really have to pee.”

I laugh again. Dante pushes against my chest to get me to move, but instead, I carefully sweep him up into my arms.

“My shoulder’s fucked up, my legs are just fine,” he reminds me, but he doesn’t bother to squirm in my arms.

“Are they?” I ask, setting him on his feet in front of the toilet. Unsurprisingly after a fuck like that, his knees buckle. I wrap my arms around him to keep him from stumbling and grin at the death glare I get in return.

His injured arm jerks, and he frowns like he’s only just remembering that he doesn’t have full use of it.

“Here.” I kiss the back of his neck and reach around him to wrap my hand around his soft cock, streaks of his cum still clinging to the tip. “Go ahead.”

Dante’s breath catches, and for a second, I expect him to argue again, but then he relaxes, letting his body sag back against mine, and he does what we came in here to do. He lets out a little sigh of relief when he’s finished. I give his dick a quick shake, and he laughs.

“I can’t believe you just held my dick while I pissed.” He shakes his head, steady enough on his feet now that I’m able to let go of him and wash my hands.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Angioletto?” I ask, a smile tugging at my lips as I look at him through the mirror.

He cocks his head. “What?”

“I would do anything for you.”