Chapter Four #2
Enzino rocks his hips, grinding his soft, laced ass down onto my aching cock.
Jesus fuck! It’s a hypnotic dance that my hardening dick seems to like.
An expected physical response, even though I know who is causing it.
It’s his sunshine/apple smell that confuses me and the perfect size of his body—shapely, with a narrow waist and curves in the right places.
Like this round, luscious ass. From the back, I would never take him for a guy.
He could be anybody. A very fucking seductive anybody.
There’s no denying it—he is attractive. I can just about imagine pulling him down on my dick and letting him ride it. But it will never happen.
“Are you DTF?” he breathes out as he continues rubbing my dick in the cradle of his butt cheeks.
“What?” I snap. What the fuck am I thinking?
“Down to fuck,” he explains. “I have a killer bussy, if you don’t mind my bragging. It’ll give your majestic dick the royal treatment! The big guy looks pretty fond of it.” I can hear the smugness in his voice.
He thinks he’s got me. And he’s so sure about it, he cranks up the sweetness. “You could beat someone to death with that thing. A cock slap from it would shatter my jaw and probably dislocate it if I gave you head.”
I almost snort at the ridiculous statement. This idiot has no filter whatsoever. I grab his hips with the intention to put a stop to it. I won’t lower my defenses, especially with an Enzino.
“It keeps growing. Fuck, cutie! That thing weigh you down? It should tip you over for how gigantic it is.” More grinding, hips swaying, ass rubbing.
He’s working my cock like a five-star stripper. I grit my teeth to halt a groan from coming out.
“Silence is equivalent to assent.”
Hmm?
“My third-grade twit of a teacher used to say that.” He raises the hem of the t-shirt he’s wearing to show me how his almost nonexistent panties have ridden up his ass crack, revealing those peach-looking cheeks.
“Here is where your huge cock can ram.” He presses his butt down, giving my dick a nice stroke. “It’ll hit all the way inside me. When you get it balls-deep, I’ll squeeze it nice and tight and milk every drop of jizz out.”
That slutty mouth. In my mind, my dick gets lipstick stains on the veiny sides as I choke him on it, sliding all the way in. Mercilessly.
“Are you some kind of cock-hungry motherfucker?” I spit out. His nape is red, ears too, and he’s humping my half-hard dick with more vigor now. He’s enjoying himself. His breathy moans are like a slick fist pumping my length. Fuck!
“I’m more of a boy toy,” he slurs. “But at this rate, I’ll probably die of a brain hemorrhage. I didn’t have an opportunity to fuck since this shit show started.”
He’s begging to be manhandled, but just not the way I would savor it: hanging down from his feet.
“Don’t care. Get. Off.”
“Your mouth says no, but your grabby hands are squeezing my hips.” He covers them with his. “Also, your raging boner certainly didn’t get the memo.”
He’s delusional. I’m still not all the way hard.
I could never get that way with an Enzino.
This is just natural physical response. I let go of him to grab the Enzino-killer from my jacket and use the sharp tip to push his chin up and back while my other hand takes hold of a fistful of his hair.
As soon as he feels the cold metal, he freezes.
Guns don’t scare him, but knives do. I found that out in the last few days.
It’s good for me since blades are my jam, but odd.
My mind is pushing for an answer, but I remind myself he is only a disposable pawn in my revenge plan.
“I don’t fuck Enzino sluts.” My growl sounds so deep, my chest vibrates with it.
“I…hate you.” His trembling voice is filled with the sentiment. My knife is still pushing against his skin.
“Good,” I whisper darkly in his ear before shoving him off me and onto the sofa.
“Fuck you!”
This feels right. Hate is what we should feel toward one another.
“Dream on,” I counter.
“You are a homophobe, closeted fucker!”
I sniff. “Keep telling yourself that, unless you want me to remind you who I really am?” I let him process the threatening words while I sheath the knife and hover over him.
He purses his lips before looking down. Pre-cum leaves the tip of my now-all-the-way-stiff dick. It revels in Enzino’s show of surrender.
“How many times are you going to pull on my hair? Do you want me to turn bald?” He digs his nails into the back of my hand and closes his other fist around the sofa cushions.
I grab his wrist as a vision of me holding his head back as I fuck him doggie-style flashes inside my head. Christ, I need to fuck—anyone else. He fights me a little as I handcuff him to the armrest.
I’m making my way to the door when he has the balls to say, “Leave your boner behind at least.”
I’m glad I’m giving him my back so he can’t see the way it twitches in my pants. “To find it nailed to the wall?”
“I’ll give it a wonderful ride first.” His bratty reply leaks contempt.
I grit my teeth with deep annoyance, so deep I want to tear something apart.
What do I need to do to make him more afraid of me?
I have more than a couple of ideas, but I can’t fucking use them!
I slam the door behind me before Enzino can add anything else.
Jeff is on the landing. I grab him by the collar and shove him against the wall, pushing my face an inch from his.
“He is cuffed to the sofa. Every fifteen minutes, open the door and check that he stays put. If you let him escape, I won’t kill you. I’ll work on you until you beg me to end your life. Sono stato chiaro?”
“Sí, capo.” He nods frantically. I wait five more seconds, enough time to feel fear flooding out of him, before letting him go.
I’m not usually this vicious with my crew, but keeping the brat here is essential to find his brother and stop Jack Enzino’s plans before avenging my parents.
There’s no space for mistakes. I need to remember that as well.
When I get out of the building, I receive a text back from Shirley.
She is good for tonight. I look up and see Carlo’s car. Perfect timing.
“Boss,” he greets me, opening the car door. “Been a while.”
I nod. I’ve known him for ten years. He is a competent soldier with good instincts. I can leave Enzino with him while I’m fucking Shirley’s brains out.
“Drive me to Art Enzino’s apartment,” I order him, taking a seat in the back.
At this hour of the day, it takes thirty minutes to get there.
We park the car and get into the building through one of the emergency exits—I bribed the landlord to give us the code to the door.
We don’t meet anyone on the way up. Before using the apartment key I found in Enzino’s purse, I tell Carlo to call Jeff, we need the code for the security system.
As soon as Enzino gets on the line, I open the door and look for the beeping keypad.
We have thirty seconds before it alerts the police.
“Alarm Code to your place,” I order.
The brat is on speaker and starts reciting the numbers straight away. “Seven-seven-seven-seven-seven-seven-one.”
After disarming the alarm, I take a look around the messiest apartment I’ve ever seen.
It feels like there was a clothes explosion, which left pieces of garments on every surface.
Dirty plates, glasses, and food containers litter the kitchen and tables.
I already saw some of it when I was watching him through my binoculars, but being in the middle of it is a completely different and horrifying experience.
“It’s a pigsty in here.” Isn’t he afraid of getting swine fever or cholera?
“I like to try different outfits before going out, and the maid hasn’t been able to get in since I was kidnapped,” Enzino replies with an indignant tone.
“Were there ten other people with you?” Carlo asks with a puzzled voice, holding the phone between us.
“I’ll let this go since you finally went to my place. But let me just say that being messy is a sign of an active mind,” Enzino says as I stare at the open drawers. I have an uneasy feeling.
“A filthy mind,” Carlo counters.
“You betcha, whoever you are.” I can hear the smirk in his voice. Does he flirt with everybody?
“Carlo.”
“Okay, Carlo. Choose: vomiting rainbows or shitting cupcakes?” Another of his weird questions. He seems to ask anybody but me.
“The rainbows one. I’d never eat something coming out of my…ass. Sorry, Boss,” Carlo adds at the end, catching my displeased expression.
We have work to do. I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I figure that while grabbing a few things for Enzino I can also find something that can get me closer to ending his family while putting some distance between me and the annoying brat.
“Let’s just get on with it,” I state, not interested in insane discussions.
“Can you check on Nacho, my dog? And bring me shoes, I can’t walk without my heels. And my toiletries, my vitamins, my pillow, since I don’t have one here. I’ll send you a list. Oh-oh, can you bring Denver?” Enzino is blabbering again.
“Who?”
“My purple dildo. It’s in the sex-toy drawer near my bed.”
Fucking spitfire. I need to talk to Seb to revisit this whole babysitting thing unless he’s okay with me shoving Denver down Enzino’s face hole. With a finger moving horizontally across my throat, I gesture to Carlo to end the call. Otherwise, I’ll throw his phone at the wall.
The brat is still talking. “I thought about changing your nickname, Scarface is too trite for a mobster. What about Luca “The Impaler” Nero. Too gay? Luca “Rampage” Nero then. Bigfoot? Daddy Long Legs?”
Carlo finally follows my order and hangs up.
“How is he still breathing, living with you?” he asks me.
“Big boss’s order.”
“Don Sebastiano knows you, Boss. He doesn’t expect you to tolerate this much. Unless it’s because of Fly—”
I don’t let him finish, snarling, “Did I ask for your opinion?”
“Sorry, Boss.”