5
Alessio
It’s just after 2:00 P.
M.
on Monday when Kota and I pull up to Philadelphia International.
We skip the terminal and head straight for the tarmac, where my private jet is waiting.
Philly’s always the better choice over Chicago, but today, duty calls.
I’m not sure what kind of mess I’m walking into, so I’ve got Nathan and Alonzo tagging along.
Aside from Kota, they are two of my most trusted men who have my back.
They’re already waiting by the plane, at the bottom of the stairs, when I step onto the jet.
I remain smooth and controlled, even if my patience is running thin.
I sink into one of the cream leather chairs, exhaling slowly as I stretch out, mentally running through every possibility of how this trip is about to go to hell.
I notice her before she notices me, the blonde stewardess strutting toward me, swaying her hips and trying too hard.
She’s got that look in her eye, like she’s just hoping to turn a few heads, especially mine.
Her uniform is so tight, it damn near looks painted on.
The navy fabric is pulled taut, it’s barely managing to contain her tits.
The top three buttons are undone, showing off her so-called assets that are overly filled and pressed together so high they’re nearly in her damn neck.
I’m not against fake tits but this is just ridiculous.
Fuck, what’s the point of wearing a top at all.
When she finally looks up, she’s got that sweet, eager smile, the kind that’s way too rehearsed.
It’s not even subtle.
I don’t miss the look in her eyes either.
She’s obvious, like an open invitation, and I can practically hear her thoughts echoing in my head.
“ Fuck me, I’m easy .”
She crouches beside me, her knees parting just enough for her skirt to ride up, the fabric stretching around her thighs.
I catch a glimpse of her bare pussy when she shifts, and of course she isn’t wearing panties.
She doesn’t even bother to hide it, just lets it hang out there, on full fucking display.
I’m a man, of course I look.
Her shirt is pulled so tight across her chest, I’m surprised the seams haven’t ripped.
Everything’s spilling out, and she knows it.
The look in her eyes tells me she’s waiting for something, waiting for me to make a move.
“Can I offer you anything, sir?” Her voice is fake and overly sugary, and those lashes?
Fucking ridiculous .
I don’t answer immediately.
I look her up and down while she holds her position, waiting and expecting an answer from me.
The corners of her mouth twitch, a little too confident, and a little too sure of herself.
She’s not the first one to try this bullshit, but she’s probably the dumbest if she thinks I’m buying it or impressed in the slightest.
I remember her tactics from the last few flights.
But I’m not about to give her the satisfaction of thinking her half-ass attempts at getting my attention are memorable.
She’s a dime a dozen, and her subpar blowjobs aren’t notable.
I glance at her name tag, sitting on her chest, and my jaw tightens.
“Nicole, huh?” I drawl, dragging a finger across the cheap plastic, her bright eyes locking onto mine like I’ve given her a damn treasure.
My hand moves to her chest, and I squeeze hard enough to pull a sharp gasp from her, her eyes widening a little too enthusiastically for a split second before she recovers.
I reach between her legs, running my finger up her wet pussy before giving her cunt a slight tap.
Nicole’s moan spills out from her parted lips- loud and exaggerated, like she’s auditioning for a porno.
I barely even touched her, but she’s already giving me a performance.
Her attempt to turn me on falls flat.
If anything, it rubs me the wrong way, and I feel the corners of my jaw tighten, fighting the urge to roll my eyes .
I can’t help but lean in, though.
My finger, slick from her juices, trails to her lips.
Her breath catches, and I press roughly against her mouth, watching her red lipstick smear across her cheek.
Shock flashes in her eyes, but she doesn’t pull away, shit, she barely moves a muscle.
Nicole just waits with her lips and knees parted like she’s some kind of puppet, ready to do as I say like the good little slut she is.
I lean back in my seat, grabbing a tissue that Kota is holding out to me to wipe the whore off my hand.
Her eyes narrow, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction.
I don’t even have to speak right away, watching her squirm, before I tuck the tissue snugly between her tits, not even bothering to look at her.
“I’ll take my usual,” I say, ordering a lowball of Glenfiddich 30-year-old whiskey.
I don’t wait for her to respond.
“And I expect you to save that…enthusiasm for later.”
Nicole jumps up, nearly knocking herself out with her tits, and hurries off to fetch my drink.
I close my eyes and drape an arm over my head when I hear Kota chuckle beside me.
“You always know how to make an impression.”
I let out a harsh laugh, more a growl than anything.
“Just keeping her in line.” There’s no point in pretending otherwise .
Only a minute later, I hear the sharp clink of glass against the small table beside me.
I open my eyes to see Nicole setting my drink down.
I glance over, finding Kota at the far end of the plane.
He’s got Nathan and Alonzo with him, all three of them huddled in their seats, their backs turned toward me, probably lost in whatever is playing in their headphones.
Nicole kneels before me, brushing her fingers on the waistband of my pants.
I slam my hand down on her wrists, locking them tight.
She opens her mouth to speak, but my other hand shoots up, fingers closing around her throat, pulling her face toward me.
Her body goes stiff, every muscle of hers freezes under my grip.
She tries to breathe, but it’s quick and shallow.
I know she’s struggling to get air.
“Whores don’t get to touch me without permission. Did I give you fucking permission?” I snap.
Nicole’s eyes go wide for a split second before fear flashes across her face, but still, she doesn’t try to pull away.
Slowly, she shakes her head, swallowing hard under my grip.
She knows she fucked up.
I release her throat and unzip my pants, pulling out my cock.
Her breath catches, a small gasp escaping her lips as her gaze drops to my lap.
Dick-hungry little slut, just like the rest of them .
I reach behind her head, my fingers gripping her hair painfully, bringing her face closer to my dick.
With my free hand, I grip my cock, tapping my piercings on her mouth.
The metal of my piercings brush against her lips, and she opens up, sticking her tongue out to catch a drop of precum pooling at the tip.
I pull her head back and lift her until her eyes are forced to meet mine.
“Shirt off,” I order.
Nicole’s fingers fumble with the buttons, the fabric parting slowly to reveal the soft curves of her body.
I drag her bra down, letting her breasts spill free.
A smirk creeps across my face as I notice the way she bites her lip, stifling her nervousness.
I tap my cock against her lips, dragging my magic cross slowly over her smeared lipstick.
Her breath hitches, eyes widening—surprise flickering through them before something else takes over.
Excitement, maybe fear, maybe both.
“You’re going to take what I give you, and you’re going to love me filling your filthy mouth,” I say, tightening my grip around the back of her neck, forcing her mouth toward my cock.
“Now be a good slut and behave, don’t make me repeat myself.”
Nicole’s tongue swirls around the tip of my shaft before she takes me deeper.
As her hand reaches out, raking her hot pink claws against my chest, I yank her upward by her hair, forcing her to meet my gaze.
“I said no touching unless I give you permission,” I growl.
“Don’t make me tell you again.” Bitches always try to leave a mark on you, like they’re claiming their territory or some shit.
“ I-I’m sorry, sir. I—” Nicole stammers, her voice muffling as I push her back down onto my cock.
Her mouth stretches around me, saliva pooling at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes brim with tears.
I pull her off, locking eyes with her to gauge her reaction, making sure she can handle me.
I don’t do soft and sweet.
When I fuck, it’s hard and rough, and I take what I want, without remorse.
Nicole seems to get the message loud and clear.
Her breath is unsteady, but her voice is full of confidence.
“I can handle more.”
That’s all I need to hear.
I tighten my grip, forcing my cock deeper until she chokes.
Her throat constricts around me, a muffled sound vibrating against my skin, but she doesn’t pull away.
Good girl.
Her lips stay wrapped tight, her tongue working even as her eyes flick up, watching me.
My free hand moves to her chest, fingers grazing over soft skin before I pinch her nipple hard, rolling it between my fingers.
Her body jerks, another small whimper slipping past her throat, muffled around my cock.
“Yeah,” I murmur, smirking as I push deeper.
“You can take more.”
I grip her head tightly, thrusting into her mouth like she’s just a toy for my pleasure.
I don’t give a damn that I’m choking her with my cock or that she can’t breathe.
She’s my fucking plaything.
Each rough push drives me closer to the edge, the pressure building fast; my balls tighten, and I feel my release coming.
I yank her off, leaving her breathless.
“Open up,” I command, and she kneels there, mouth wide, tongue out, ready for me.
Leaning forward, I stroke myself a few times before my come spills over her mouth, face, and chest, coating her in my seed.
“Now clean me up,” I say, leaning back in my seat, crossing my arms behind my head, a satisfied grin creeping onto my lips.
Nicole jumps to her feet, grabbing a towel from the small cart.
She hesitates for a moment, those doe-like eyes wide, lipstick smudged.
I stretch out, extending my legs, and nod.
“You have permission. ”
She immediately starts wiping my cock clean, and very thoroughly.
Once I’m tucked back into my pants, she grabs her top and bra from the floor and slips into the bathroom.
I take a slow sip of my drink, feeling the warmth of the whiskey spread through me.
My hand drifts to my forehead, and I cover my eyes with my arm, letting the cool leather of the seat press against my skin.
That blowjob wasn’t exactly mind-blowing, but Nicole did what I needed.
I recline the seat back, pushing her out of my mind and focusing on what’s waiting for me in Chicago.
A rough shake jerks me out of my sleep, the back of my shirt is drenched in sweat, and Bria’s face is the first thing on my mind.
I rub my eyes, trying to snap out of it, and Kota is standing over me, shoving a phone in my face.
He’s probably the only one who has the balls to wake me up like this.
I sit up, shaking off the last bits of sleep, but the anger’s already bubbling up.
The sweat on my skin isn’t helping; the guilt is seeping out of me.
I glance at the phone, and the screen flashes with a message.
Chris, my stubborn prisoner, is still holding out.
The damn guy’s got more grit than I gave him credit for, and it’s pissing me off that I’m not there to watch him suffer.
Kota is still standing there, his expression as calm as ever.
“You good, Boss?” he asks.
“Just a dream,” I grunt, not trusting myself to say more.
Dream?
Ha!
More like a goddamn nightmare.
The accident.
That memory.
The anger that never fades, never fucking lets up.
Bria’s death.
My loss.
It’s a wound that refuses to heal, no matter how much time passes.
Some scars fade.
This one never will.
I clench the phone tighter, the rage bubbling up inside me.
“What’s the latest?” I finally ask, trying to shift my focus to anything other than the nightmare that haunts me.
“They’re still working on Chris. Guy’s tough, but he’ll crack. Just a matter of time.”
“Time,” I mutter, the word tasting bitter in my mouth.
Every second that bastard holds out gets under my skin more.
The sound of Nicole unlocking the door snaps me back.
We’ve landed.
I toss the blanket aside and stand up.
“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” I say, pushing past Kota.
“I’m in the mood to make someone’s day worse. ”
The second my foot hits the tarmac, a blacked-out Navigator pulls up in front of me, another one stopping right behind it.
The window rolls down, and I’m greeted by a familiar fucker.
“Figured you could use a ride,” Antonio says, leaning out the window.
I nod, and Kota and I slide into his car while Nathan and Alonzo hop into the SUV trailing us.
“So, how long has this temp been working at Elli Enterprise?” I ask, leaning back into the seat, trying to keep my tone calm.
“A few weeks,” Antonio replies steadily.
“Cindy’s been out sick, and Olivia picked up the slack fast. Too fast. Sebastiano’s gut didn’t like it. Something was off, so he ran her prints.”
“And?” I press.
Antonio’s eyes narrow.
“They didn’t match the check we did on her. Now he’s got his men tailing her and her computers under surveillance. That’s when he caught her digging into the Commission’s records, specifically looking up everything she can on you.”
“Me?” I snap, resting my elbows on my knees.
“Why the hell is she looking into me?”
“That’s something you have to ask her yourself, Alessandro,” Antonio replies .
“Crazy ex?” Kota chimes in with a smirk.
Antonio laughs, shaking his head at Kota’s comment.
I roll my eyes.
Yeah, I’ve had my share of flings since Bria, but nothing even close to serious.
Certainly not serious enough to have someone stalking me across state lines.
“Sebastiano’s got his eye on her,” Antonio says, his tone shifting to something more serious.
“He’s at Elli Enterprises now, and his men are watching her closely. She doesn’t have a clue we’re onto her, at least, she doesn’t seem to.”
Elli Enterprises isn’t far from the airport, so we get there fast.
Antonio’s office is on the 27th floor, but walking through the front door isn’t an option—not with Olivia’s desk right outside.
We take the back entrance instead, bypassing the main lobby.
The last thing I need is for her to see me before I’m ready.
Sebastiano sits behind the massive oak desk, his fingers flying over the keyboard, eyes locked on the screen.
As I get closer, I catch the shifting camera angles he’s adjusting, tracking her every move in real time.
Outside, my men join his, spreading out around the building and covering every exit.
They’re keeping their distance, staying just out of sight.
She has no idea she’s being watched.
“She’s in the bathroom,” Sebastiano states impatiently.
It’s a unisex bathroom.
Perfect.
Kota steps up.
“Let me see if I can get her out of there,” he says, and I nod.
He pushes out of the office door, his broad frame impossible to miss among the office employees moving through the hallway.
The tailored black-on-black suit helps him blend in just enough.
It’s corporate and polished, but I’m pretty sure he’s the only one with a piece strapped to his hip, under his jacket.