22
Alessio
After Liv left my fun-room, I had to change because the wild fucking Sirena’s pussy soaked my pants.
Not that I’m complaining.
When I get downstairs, the entrance is a damn mess with deliveries everywhere.
I told Alonzo to haul her shit up to her room as it came in, so seeing it pile up like this pisses me off.
I came in here to make sure her shit was put away, but fuck me.
The second Olivia steps out of the bathroom, every reason I’m here disappears.
That body, those thick thighs, her curves barely hidden by that useless robe, and those so-called panties with the pussy-previewer.
She can deny it all she wants and pretend she’s unaffected, but her body tells me the truth.
That pretty cunt’s already dripping for me.
Those pathetic fucking excuse for panties doesn’t cover shit, but they still need to go.
Her mouth opens like she’s about to talk back, maybe throw one of her smartass comments at me, but the second I slide a finger in, she’s done.
That greedy pussy of hers sucks me in, so wet and fucking tight.
I add another, feeling her squeeze around me, and fuck—I’m about to lose it.
My cock’s throbbing against my sweats, dying to be inside her.
But she’s not coming yet.
Not until I say so.
Right as she’s about to shatter, I tear my mouth from hers, dragging my teeth along her neck.
Her pulse hammers against my lips, and I sink my teeth into her creamy skin, leaving my mark.
She claws at my shoulders, her body trembling, her hips chasing the friction I’ve just stolen away.
A frustrated gasp escapes her.
“Alessio.” Her voice is a wrecked whimper at the sudden loss of contact when she’s about to come undone.
If looks could kill, I’d be fucking six feet under.
This is the third time I’ve pushed her to the edge, denied, and left her dripping for me.
God, she has no idea what she’s asking for.
But she soon will.
I trail my hand down her body, fingers digging into her thigh hard enough to bruise as I spread her wide.
Her body is pleading, but I’m not giving her a damn thing she hasn’t earned.
Her breath catches, but she stays still, taking everything I give her.
Good girl .
My thumb circles her clit, slow and lazy, until her hips start to twitch and her breath hitches.
She’s right there, teetering on the edge, about to fall.
That’s when I yank my hand away.
She jolts like I’ve ripped the air from her lungs.
I grab her chin with my wet hand and push my thumb past her lips.
She opens for me without thinking, sucking her own taste off my finger like it’s instinct.
I drag my thumb across her bottom lip, smearing her taste across it, and watching the way her eyes lock on mine, like she’s waiting for permission to breathe.
“No,” I growl, still tracing her lips with my thumb.
“You don’t come until I fucking say so.”
Her eyes flash with fury, and she mumbles something under her breath—too low for me to catch.
My hand finds its way between her legs again, grazing her pussy, feeling her body buck beneath me.
“What was that, Sirena ?”
“N-nothing,” she gasps, barely holding it together.
I smirk.
“That’s what I thought.”
I thrust two fingers deep inside her tight cunt.
Olivia cries out, her body jerking against me.
But just as fast, I pull out, leaving her empty and aching.
Her eyes flare with need, but I stay perfectly still, watching her squirm.
She’s so close to breaking.
But I want her on her knees for it.
“You’ll beg me to let you come, Liv,” I promise, slipping my fingers into my mouth, tasting her.
“And when you do… I’ll decide if you’ve earned it.”
Her chest heaves, fingers twisting in the sheets, clinging to whatever scraps of sanity she’s got left.
“I don’t beg,” she grits out, but the tremor in her voice gives her away.
“Your loss.” I pull away completely, not sparing her another glance as I leave her room and head to mine.
My cock throbs, begging to be inside her.
But it’s only a matter of time before she’s so frustrated, she starts speaking .
I walk into my room, kicking the door shut behind me.
My pants hit the floor, landing wherever the fuck they land, walking in the ensuite.
The second I step under the shower, hot water pours over me, chasing off the fuckstration Liv brings.
My hand wraps around my cock, thumb teasing the tip before I stroke my dick to the image of Olivia and her tight pussy, dripping wet and desperate to be fucked.
I swear I hear her, a soft, breathy sound.
My jaw clenches.
Focus.
I squeeze harder, chasing the burn, but the image in my head is too real—her body, that tiny fuck-me robe and peek-a-boo panties.
I hear her again and turn around.
Fuck, she’s standing on the other side of the glass, with her eyes locked on my hand.
I don’t stop.
Hell, this is way better than my imagination.
Liv’s chest rises and falls like she can’t look away.
I’ve seen that look before, a combination of shock and fascination.
Her lips part like she wants to say something, but nothing comes out.
Like a fish out of water, completely speechless.
“Is it the size,” I smirk, still stroking, “or the piercings?”
Her breath catches, but she doesn’t fucking blink.
That stare of hers stays locked on me like she’s trying to figure out how the hell she got herself into this situation, and maybe why she’s not walking out.
Since she wants to look, I make damn sure she has something to look at.
My smirk deepens.
“Be a good girl and get on your fucking knees for a closer look.”
It hits her then.
Whether it’s the size, the metal, or just me being a cocky bastard, I don’t know.
But she spins like she’s going to walk out…
then pauses at the door.
My eyes drop to the bottom of that little robe and fuck me, that’s a view.
Bare skin peeking out of that little robe, the curve of her ass begging for my hands.
She’s a goddamn walking fantasy .
Fuck me, that’s all it takes.
Pleasure rips through me, and a guttural sound tears from my chest just as Liv turns back around.
Right in time to see my come hit against the glass, streaking down, before swirling into the drain.
I’m standing there, chest heaving like I just fought a fucking war, but she doesn’t flinch and doesn’t say a word.
She turns and walks out like she didn’t just watch me come with her name in my goddamn head.
Hope she enjoyed the free fucking show.
But then, something else catches my eye as she’s walking out.
Just at the edge of her thigh, it’s faint through the steam-covered glass, but that’s a bruise.
I didn’t notice it before, probably because I was too distracted by her tits and dripping pussy.
But I see it now, and I can’t ignore it.
That couldn’t have happened here.
The thought of another person laying a hand on her makes my blood fucking boil.
Grabbing a towel, I sling it low around my waist and head straight for her room.
I push the door open, eyes sweeping the room.
When I don’t see her, I make my way to the ensuite.
The second I shove the door open, she whips around, yanking her robe tight around her.
“Privacy,” she snaps, all defensively .
Like I give a damn about her privacy, considering I just had my fingers buried in her pussy.
I step in, closing the space between us, and crouch down, keeping my eyes locked on the mark.
“What happened here?” Before she can back off, my fingers brush over the dark, fresh bruise.
She flinches, “It’s nothing,” she spits out, too fast and too fucking defensive, like I’m gonna buy that bullshit.
For a split second, I see a flicker of fear.
She’s hiding something.
I keep my eyes locked on hers, waiting.
She fidgets, like she’s scrambling for a way out of this mess, and then she blurts it out: “What happened to Bria?”
That was the last thing I expected her to ask.
Bria, my dead ex.
A ghost that pulls me straight down into that dark, rotting pit I fight to bury.
“Why the fuck would you ask about her?” I snap, rage lacing every word.
“You don’t know shit about her, Olivia. Stay the hell out of my business.”
Her face twists, like my words just slapped her.
For a split second, I catch a glimmer of something like regret, but I push it aside.
“Alessio.” My name falls from her lips, soft, pleading .
“Fuck off,” I growl, cutting her off.
My anger is boiling over, and my control is slipping.
“It’s none of your fucking business.”
I storm out before she can say another word.
Why the hell do I care about a stupid bruise?
She probably deserved whatever the fuck happened to her.
I head straight for my room, slamming the door so hard it shakes the frame.
My fists clench at my sides, fighting to rein in the rage building inside me.
My pants are still on the floor.
I grab them, fishing my phone from my pocket.
The screen flashes as I unlock it, my thumb flying over the keys.
Me: Set me up for tonight.
My heart’s still racing, and I pace the room, trying to breathe through the anger.
Why the fuck do I care about Olivia’s bruise?
I shouldn’t, shit isn’t my problem.
But the thought of someone else laying a hand on her…
fuck, it makes me want to kill.
Almost immediately, my phone buzzes.
Kota’s reply pops up.
Kota: Is Red getting under your skin?
Red.
That’s what he calls Olivia.
I stare at the screen, clenching my jaw so hard I’m half expecting to hear a tooth crack.
I don’t have time for his shit.
I type back quickly .
Me: Kota, just fucking do what I tell you.
The reply is instant.
Kota: You got it, Boss.
What do you want the bet at?
My thumbs fly.
Me: $500,000.
00
There’s a pause and another message, and I can practically hear Kota’s smug grin dripping through the screen.
Kota: Red must’ve got under your skin.
And to top it off, the asshole throws in a winking emoji.
That shit makes me want to hurl my phone across the room and watch it shatter against the wall in a million pieces.
But I hold back.
I’ve got enough shit to deal with tonight without wasting time on a new phone.
Instead, I chuck it on the bed and rip open my closet, pulling out a pair of black sweats and a fitted black T-shirt.
Blood won’t show on black, and tonight will get messy.
I pull the shirt over my head, letting it stretch snug across my chest, then tie the sweats tight around my waist.
The frustration clawing in my chest won’t fade.
I can still feel it, Olivia, her bruise, her fucking question about Bria.
Bria, a ghost I thought I buried long ago.
I squeeze my fists, enjoying the sting as my nails dig into my palms, then move over to the mirror.
My reflection stares back at me, cold and hard.
I grab my phone off the bed, tucking it into my pocket, and I make my way to the door.
My wrath needs this fight, the violence, and something raw enough to rip me out of this spiral.