Page 8

Chapter 8

DANTE

Somewhere between drugging Salvatore and him sliding his platinum credit card across the desk at one of the most expensive hotels in Los Vespar, I think I really lost control of this abduction.

When we hit the city, we stopped to buy the essentials and a few less tacky clothing options to get us through the next couple of days. I swing the bags impatiently in my hand while he finishes smooth talking the man behind the desk and signing the credit card receipt.

“Enjoy your stay, and congratulations.” The man gives me a big, sappy smile. “I’ll see about sending something special up to your room.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I mutter, too tired from fifteen hours of driving to fake any of the necessary enthusiasm. Why Salvatore is going around telling everyone about our upcoming wedding is beyond me. Maybe the drugs scrambled his brain and he thinks this is real. Or maybe this is some mind-fuck way of getting the upper hand.

“Come on, Angioletto, I’m dying to get out of these clothes.” He puts his hand on my lower back and guides me through the opulent lobby, our shoes clicking on the marble tiles while the whirs and whistles of slot machines echo loudly from the casino.

“Not wasting any time collecting on my end of the deal, huh?” I bristle and consider slapping his hand away from me, but I suppose it’s practical to have him touching me. At least I know he’s still with me and isn’t attempting to make a run for it now we’re in a loud, chaotic city where it would be all too easy for him to lose me if he wanted to.

We reach the elevators, and I see his lips twitch with a grin in the reflection on the shiny gold doors.

“Have you ever worn a corset for thirty hours straight? I’m afraid my ribs are permanently bruised. And I would happily murder someone for a shower.” The elevator doors slide open as he’s saying that last bit. The woman on the other side gives him a wide-eyed look and carefully skirts around us, keeping one eye on Sal, then hurries away.

I snort a laugh, and he calls after her, “It’s just a figure of speech.”

Somehow, he managed to talk his way into getting us the honeymoon suite. I’d bother feeling bad for the couple who must have gotten downgraded to make that happen, but if they’re getting married in Los Vespar, I doubt it’ll last anyway. They can try again to score a honeymoon suite on their second marriages. The elevator doors open on the top floor and before I can even step out, he slides his hand around my waist and stoops to hook the other behind my knees, sweeping me into his arms in a bridal carry.

“Hey,” I yelp. “Are you fucking insane?” I squirm and swing the bags wildly, trying to get him to put me down, but he just tightens his hold.

“Says the man who drugged and kidnapped me,” he deadpans.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” I grumble but stop fighting him.

“Hard to say since it only happened last night. I might need to hang on to it for another day or two before I’m ready to move on.”

I huff. I guess that’s fair. Annoying, but fair.

“Do me a favor and fish the room key out of my pocket, Angel?” he purrs.

“Nope.” Like hell am I going to help him with this asinine, fake romance bullshit he’s using to torment me about my marriage scheme. “Put me down or figure it out yourself.”

He nuzzles my ear before catching the lobe between his teeth and biting down gently. I clench my jaw against the gasp that threatens to escape and stubbornly ignore the jolt of heat it sends through me.

“Challenge accepted,” he murmurs.

I’ve never seen Salvatore in anything except a suit, but I’ve never thought of him as a particularly strong man. Not that he looks weak , just average build if I had to guess. Which makes it all the more surprising that he doesn’t even grunt with exertion as he hoists me over his shoulder in a fluid motion that has the room spinning and a startled squawk spilling from my mouth. He grasps the back of my thigh to keep me in place, my hardening cock pressed against his shoulder and his ass directly in my face, and then he casually uses his other hand to pull the room key from his pocket. Seconds later, I hear the beep of the door lock.

Things are seriously getting away from me. I’m the one with the gun tucked into the back of my pants, I’m the one with the balls to kidnap a Moretti and come up with this whole marriage plan, and, goddammit, I’m the one who put Don behind bars in the first place. So how the fuck did I end up hanging over Salvatore’s shoulder like an unruly child feeling like he holds all the cards here?

As soon as we’re over the threshold, I growl and bite down hard on his ass cheek. He yelps and as his fingers twitch around my thigh, I leverage my weight, grab his hips, and flip myself down off his shoulder. I should get extra points for the exceptionally graceful landing under the circumstances. I even managed to keep hold of the bags and keep the gun in my pants. I spin around to face him just as fluidly, the movement feeling like a choreographed dance the way it flows through my muscles, fueled by my annoyance. It’s a hell of a lot easier than dismounting the pole. Salvatore isn’t even greased up or spinning.

I drop the bags and take a step forward just as Salvatore turns around, putting me right in his face… or close to, given our height difference. I need to remind him who’s in charge here, which one of us holds the power.

“Let’s get one thing straight. Just because I agreed to your terms for this marriage doesn’t put us on equal footing. I’ll fucking shoot you, Sal.”

Something flickers in his eyes, but it’s not fear.

“I don’t think you will,” he whispers with a smirk, tilting his head down and nuzzling the tip of his nose against mine.

My fingers twitch for the gun. I should at least graze him—a small flesh wound to prove I mean business—but… fuck, he’s right, I’m not going to do it. A frustrated scream rises in my throat, but I manage to choke it back down. If hurting him isn’t an option, there has to be another way I can re-assert my dominance in this situation.

Sex .

He thinks he’s going to extort sex from me in exchange for protection? He thinks I’m just a brat dying to be Dommed by a self-important mafioso like him? I’ll show him how I like to play, and then we’ll see who’s using who.

I press up on my toes another inch, bringing my lips close to his, and echo his gesture, bumping my nose against his and holding his molten hot gaze.

“Fine, sweetheart, you’ve got me there. I need you, so I won’t shoot you. But don’t think that means you own me or control me in any way. Now, be good and go take your shower. When you’re done, you’re going to get on your knees and suck me.” I catch his bottom lip between my teeth and tug it roughly, savoring the hoarse growl I draw out of him, my eyes boring into his, watching the embers of his lust spark into a full-on inferno. “Say, ‘yes, master.’”

He rumbles with amusement and then cups the back of my neck the same way he did before he kissed me earlier. My pulse jumps but I stand firm, refusing to give up the ground I just started taking back. Salvatore brings his lips to my ear.

“I’ll get on my knees and suck you, Angioletto, just like I’ve been dying to do since the first time I saw you dance. We can decide afterward which one of us will go by ‘master.’” He sinks his teeth into the edge of my jaw, and I gasp, swaying on my feet, my cock throbbing violently.

He lets me go, winks, and then disappears into the bedroom without another word.

SALVATORE

I ignore my heavy, insistent cock and the fluttering anticipation in my gut, focusing instead on taking my time under the luxurious waterfall showerhead, letting the hot water work out the kinks in my muscles from too many hours in the car. While I painstakingly wash every inch of my body with the eucalyptus and mint soap the hotel provided, I picture Dante waiting for me on the other side of the door.

I try to guess his strategy. How does my angel play the part of a Dom when it’s obvious to anyone with sense and experience that he’s begging for someone to finally make him feel safe enough to submit? Maybe he’ll stay in the living room, forcing me to come find him, to crawl on my knees across the cheap, rough carpet for him. My deep, rumbling laugh echoes off the tiled walls. It might be fun to watch him try to make me crawl. Or maybe he likes to play rough. His cock was already hard. Is he lying on the bed, playing with himself, waiting for me so he can tangle his fingers in my hair and force me to my knees? Does he want to use my mouth like a fuck sleeve, chasing his own pleasure and leaving me hard and needy just to prove his point about who’s in charge?

I chuckle again and wrap my soapy hand around my stiff, aching cock.

Is he getting impatient? Is he squirming and grumbling about how long I’ve been in the shower? Is he working to convince himself that storming in here would be a power move and not exactly what I’m hoping for?

I work my hand slowly up and down my shaft, picturing the fire in my Angioletto’s eyes, the strength and determination that’s written in every curl of his fists and sway of his hips, the vulnerability hidden in the trembles he hopes I don’t notice every time I touch him. I let out a moan, loud enough that I’m sure he’ll hear it if he’s listening. And then another. Come on, little angel, I’m ready to play if you are .

The bathroom door swings open, and I roll my hips, fucking into my fist, putting on a show for my soon-to-be-husband. I grunt and sigh, then look over my shoulder with my hand still moving over my cock. He’s obscured slightly by the steam on the shower door, but I can see him stripped down to nothing but a pair of dark briefs, standing in the doorway.

“Take a shower, suck my cock.” He ticks the two items off on his fingers. “Nowhere on that list did I tell you to spend half an hour in here jerking off.”

“I’m sorry, Angioletto,” I purr, pushing open the shower door with my free hand, not pausing my steady strokes with the other. “Did you want this?”

I widen my stance just a little, angling my hips towards him so he has a full view of my dark, swollen dick, my foreskin swallowing my cockhead and then rolling back again, my balls swinging heavily. Dante’s lips part and the unmistakable shape of his erection stiffens and twitches in the confines of his silky black briefs.

“All you have to do is beg for it, and it’s yours.”

His eyes snap up to meet mine, just as defiant as always even though we both know there’s no hiding his reaction to me. What will it take for Dante to let himself submit?

“You have that the wrong way around, baby girl.” He palms his cock through his briefs and his eyelashes flutter.

I chuckle and finally shut off the water. “You think so?”

I pluck a towel off the rack next to the shower and wrap it around my waist. The sudden chill has my nipples tightening but doesn’t do a damn thing to dampen the pulsing excitement between my legs. Water droplets cling to my skin and drip from my hair to run down the back of my neck. I step out of the shower, leaving wet footprints behind me as I stalk towards Dante. He holds his ground, pushing off the doorframe to straighten himself up to full height.

“You want me to trade you my body for your protection? Fine, I agreed to that. But it’ll be on my terms.” He grabs my wrist and places my hand on his cock. His briefs are even silkier than they look, expensive if I had to guess, and I can feel every ridge and throbbing vein of his shaft through them, his heat pulsing in my palm.

I wrap my fingers around his length and press myself closer to him, bringing my mouth near enough to taste the sweetness of his breath.

“I don’t think that’s what I said, Angel.” I squeeze his cock and watch his eyelids flutter. “But if that’s the way you need to frame it, I’m fine with that for now.” I brush my lips over his—not quite a kiss, more of a tease—and grin when Dante chases the touch and then scowls when he realizes what he’s doing. “However, I will have to insist on the begging.”

I sink my teeth into his bottom lip and he gasps, his cock jerking in my hand.

“In your fucking dreams,” he growls, tangling his fingers in my wet hair and biting me right back. The sting of his teeth tearing into my bottom lip and the coppery flavor of blood on my tongue make me grunt.

It’s a challenge as much as it’s a kiss, raw and savage and dripping with the same desperation I see in Dante’s eyes every time he snarls and rages. He’s terrified that if he stops swinging even for a second to catch his breath, everyone might see how tired he is of keeping his guard up. He’s afraid that if he lets himself be vulnerable, he won’t be safe anymore. But that’s the beauty of marrying a monster. He can rest, and I can scare all of his other nightmares away.

Our tongues tangle and he uses his grip on my hair to drag me into the bedroom. Since the bed is exactly where I want him, I let him savor his last few seconds of control. His lips are bruisingly rough against mine, his growls and groans vibrating around my tongue, his hips thrusting to grind his cock into my hand. He backs himself right up into the bed and then breaks the kiss, nibbling along my stubbled chin.

“Suck. My. Cock.” He punctuates each word with a graze of his teeth.

I stop stroking him through his briefs, hooking my fingers in his waistband so I can drag them down. My knuckles brush over his smooth, hairless skin, and his cock springs free. Wild isn’t full nude, so I’ve never seen him this naked before. Well, except for the strip search last night, but that was different. There wasn’t much light, and I didn’t have any plans to touch him. Not like this.

His underwear slips down around his feet and he kicks them off, his cock bobbing with the movement, the barbells through his nipples and belly button begging for my tongue while another piercing of his draws my attention for the first time. A short barbell through his frenulum, right below the head of his cock, previously hidden by his foreskin.

“Beg for it,” I say again.

“Never,” he snarls, baring his teeth.

“Fuck, I do love a challenge,” I growl, sliding my hands around to his perky ass cheeks and lifting him up to toss him onto the bed.

My towel comes loose and pools on the floor around my feet. He doesn’t even have time to protest, but that doesn’t stop him from glaring at me as I crawl onto the bed to kneel over him. Where’s the fun in submission if you don’t have to earn it? Maybe that’s why I’ve gotten bored with all the kink clubs in Wildcliff. Not only are the subs there too sweet and compliant, but most of them also know exactly who I am, and it’s obvious how much time they spend reading Mafia romance and casting me in their fantasies.

The head of my cock drags against Dante’s as I lean over him to lave my tongue over his nipple, rolling the barbell and then flicking the tight little bud. He hisses and arches his hips, our shafts colliding and his balls bouncing against mine.

“I’m not playing. Suck my dick or get off of me.” He shoves at my chest, but not hard. Considering how willing he is to break bones when he doesn’t want to be touched, I don’t believe for a second that his protest is real.

“We should probably have a safeword, Angel. That way you can protest and argue with me as long as you need to.” I trace the shape of the butterfly tattoo on his pecs with my tongue then zero in on his other nipple. “Keep it simple—red if you really want me to stop.”

“And what about if I want you to just do what I say and suck me?” He squirms and pants as I roll my hips slowly, stroking his cock with mine.

“I already told you,” I remind him, licking and nibbling my way across his collarbone, then along the column of his throat. “ Beg .” His Adam’s apple bobs with a heavy swallow and a hot, wet dribble of precum smears between us. “I’m feeling generous with our wedding day being only a handful of hours away. A simple ‘Please suck me, Sir’ will be enough this time.”

I move lower again, indulging in the fantasy of tasting every inch of his smooth golden skin that I’ve had since the first time Dante stepped out under those bright stage lights with rage in his eyes and started to dance like nothing I’d ever seen before. He moved like the music was his god and dance was the only way he knew how to worship. I wanted to know where he learned to move like that, I wanted to know how he’d ended up stripping in Wildcliff instead of dancing for a company, and I wanted to lick every droplet of sweat off his body while he told me his life story.

“You’re infuriating,” he rasps, still squirming, hoping I won’t notice the way he arches into every drag of my tongue, still glaring so I won’t notice the reddening of his skin or his shallow breaths.

“And you’re stunning,” I murmur, sliding down his body to tease my tongue around the rim of his belly button, his eager cock bumping against my neck, leaving streaks of precum sticky on my skin.

“I don’t get off on submitting,” he growls, tangling his fingers in my hair again and thrusting his cock towards my mouth.

I part my lips and let his cockhead drag over them, holding his gaze. I flick my tongue out to catch the warm metal of the short barbell, salty and sweet just like the rest of his skin.

“Maybe you’ve just never found anyone worth submitting to before.” I mouth at his foreskin, my own cock throbbing at the silky slide of it over his steel-hard shaft.

“I should’ve known you’d be an arrogant, overconfident blowhard.” Rage and lust war in his eyes and he tries again to angle his cock into my mouth. This is my favorite part of taming a brat. He wants to prove to himself that I can’t be trusted, that if he hits the right nerve I’ll turn into a violent, greedy abuser just like he always knew I was.

“Is that what I am, Angioletto? An overconfident blowhard?” I purr, running my lips up and down his shaft and cupping his hot sac in my hand. His balls tighten and shift against my palm with every shuddering breath he thinks he’s hiding from me.

“You’re an annoying asshole who won’t just suck my dick,” he snarls.

I chuckle and Dante makes a sound like a yowling cat.

“You know the magic word. Four words, actually. Just say them and I’ll have this pretty cock of yours buried in my throat in a heartbeat. You’d be doing me a favor. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

“What? To own me and make me beg?” The disdain dripping from his words doesn’t hide the throb that pulses through his cock when he talks about begging.

“To be the one responsible for all of your pleasure from now on.” I lap at his piercing again, and he bites back a sob.

“Please,” he mumbles.

“What was that, Angel?” I lick a long, slow stripe up his shaft, following the shape of his veins.

“Please,” he whispers just a little louder. “Please, suck my cock.”

I won’t insist on the ‘Sir’ this time. The shiver that racks his body and the whimper at the end of his words that I’m sure he hopes I don’t hear are enough for now.

“Good, Angioletto,” I praise him before opening my mouth and swallowing him down like a dying man finding water in the desert.

The weight of his cock on my tongue makes my balls tighten and the base of my cock throb. The arch of his back and the raw cry that comes from deep in his chest etch themselves into my memory instantly. Dante might not fully realize it yet, but I’m the last person who will ever wrap their mouth around his cock. His gasps and moans belong to me now. The way his body trembles and jerks with pleasure is all mine. I’ll kill anyone else who even tries.

I push his hips into the mattress, taking him deep into my throat, my nose buried against the dark thatch of his pubic hair, and stroke him with my tongue at the same time.

“Sal,” he groans, trying to buck against my weight and failing.

I bob my head up and down, leaving his cock glistening with saliva and precum before I swallow it again, over and over. He starts to stiffen even more between my lips, and I slow down, keeping him on edge. Fantasies of flipping him over and feasting on his pretty little hole dance through my mind, of getting him nice and soft with my tongue until he begs for something else, begs for my cock like his life depends on it. There’s time for all that though. A lifetime, actually.

I take him deep into my throat again and lay my forearm across his hips to keep him in place, slipping my free hand beneath myself. The brush of my fingertips over my eager cock has my eyes rolling back and a moan working its way through my throat to vibrate around Dante’s throbbing shaft. I hold his cock in my mouth and start to stroke myself.

He breathes harder, his eyes locked on mine, his cock twitching between my lips, needy little cries accompanying every exhale. I suck him, working my jaw and tongue while I jerk myself faster, grunting and growling with my mouth full, watching the flush darken his cheeks, his pupils getting wider and his trembling getting too intense for him to even try to hide.

“Please, Sal, please. Oh god, I need… Please,” he wails, thrashing his head and trying again to buck out of my hold so he can fuck my mouth the way he wants to. I wasn’t going to hold out for an honorific this time, but I think I’m getting close. Is it too much to hope for?

I shuffle onto my knees without losing my leverage, forcing his cock even deeper down my throat in the process. My cock is dripping precum, leaking over my fingers with every wild stroke. I huff through my nose, bringing myself closer and closer to the edge. Dante pulses against my tongue, stiffening and swelling.

“Sir,” he shouts, pleading and frustration mingling in his needy groan.

That word on his lips is fucking ecstasy, drawing my pleasure out with another muffled moan around his cock. I pull back and as soon as I swallow him down again, he screams my name and his cock starts to spasm between my lips, splattering my tongue and the back of my throat with hot, salty ropes of cum. I shudder as my own orgasm crashes through me in waves, painting the sheets and his thighs with my release. I rub my oversensitive cockhead against the soft skin of his inner thigh and dribble out a few more spurts of cum, still sucking his cock, lapping at his slit to coax out every last drop.

My lungs are burning for air when I finally pull off of his softening cock and rest my forehead on his belly. I press a kiss right above his belly button and then tilt my head so I can look at him. I can’t read his expression. Annoyed that I made him beg? Confused by how much he liked it? Maybe terrified of what I might do to hurt him now that he’s let his mask of control slip for just a few minutes.

“Do you need something to drink, Angioletto?” I peel myself off of him reluctantly.

Dante shakes his head. “Just tired.”

Now that I’m not holding him down, he rolls onto his side, facing the wall.

“Let me get a rag to clean you up, at least.” I snag my towel off the floor on my way to the bathroom so I can hang it up. I take a minute to splash some cool water on my face and then get a damp washcloth.

It can’t be more than two minutes, but by the time I step into the bedroom again, Dante’s eyes are closed and he’s either asleep or pretending to be. I’ll give him some time to process, but he’s not going to hide from me forever. After our wedding he’s going to tell me who he’s so afraid of, and I’m going to take care of it. I’ll show him that he doesn’t have to be afraid anymore, not in my bed or anywhere else.

I gently wipe my cum off his thighs and pull the blankets over him so he won’t get cold. Then, I slip out of the bedroom and close the door behind me. Dante didn’t leave me much time to organize our big day. Luckily, with enough money and the right amount of intimidation, there’s no limit to what you can get done.

Only the best for my Angioletto.