26
Liv
The ache between my legs is a not-so-subtle reminder of Alessio and his pierced beast.
I should be ashamed of myself for damn near begging him to have his way with me, throwing myself at him like a feral animal desperate to get fucked.
But the need outweighs whatever shred of dignity I might’ve had left.
If there was any dignity left, it’s long gone after a week of him slipping into my bed every night.
Because, like a can of Pringles, once I popped, I couldn’t stop.
It’s practically a routine now.
He shows up, completely rearranges my insides, and pulls tricks out of me I didn’t even know were possible.
And by morning, he’s gone, leaving me with deliciously sore lady bits and a cold bed.
Somewhere between orgasm number…
I lost count, and the way his hand wrapped around the back of my neck like I’m something worth holding onto, shit started to shift.
Because it’s not just that he fucks like he’s trying to ruin me, it’s that he doesn’t treat me like I’m some little orphan girl who got left on a doorstep.
Like I’ll fall apart if someone raises their voice.
He’s rough, and he doesn’t hold back, not even when I sass him or snap at him.
And definitely not when he’s pounding into me like both our lives depend on it.
One second, he’s shielding my body from Alonzo, and the next, he’s got me spread out, shaking, and so damn wrecked I can’t walk straight the next day.
And somehow, my messed-up little heart loves that balance.
That I can be soft with him without being seen as weak.
He can break me down and still make me feel safe while doing it.
And yeah, it fucks me up in ways I’m not ready to unpack.
Whatever this is between us was never supposed to go this deep.
I roll onto my back, and flashes of last night hit me.
My wrists are tied to the headboard, and my legs are spread wide by that stupid spreader bar I was looking at when he came into my room.
It was one of the items delivered earlier in the week, and I was checking out what it was.
I bite my lip, remembering how he looked, locking me in place, so dangerously calm, like this was just another Tuesday.
Meanwhile, I was losing my mind.
I’m still not sure if my plan to keep all of those naughty toys in my room backfired or worked out too well .
I shift, trying to sit up, but something feels lumpy underneath me.
What the hell?
I reach under the duvet, and…
oh, you’ve got to be kidding me .
Of course it’s this .
My fingers close around the vibrating butt plug Alessio used on me last night.
My cheeks burn as his words play in my head, “ This’ll help loosen you up so I can fuck all your holes. ”
Another wave of embarrassment rushes through me, followed by an involuntary shiver, remembering the mind-blowing orgasm he gave me while this little sucker was turned on, buzzing away, sucking the soul out of my ass, while the pierced beast ruined me for any man after him.
I hold the toy up like it’s some weird trophy.
First prize in things that have gone in my ass this week.
Shaking my head, I toss the toy onto the nightstand, which lands with a soft thud that feels too loud in my quiet room.
Groaning, I finally manage to stand up, but my legs feel like jelly, wobbling under me like I’m Bambi taking her first step.
Now I can add recovering from Alessio’s.
.
.
activities to my list of daily workouts.
I shuffle into the bathroom and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
My hair’s a mess, and I’ve got that look, the one that screams, yeah, I got wrecked last night.
My cheeks heat up as memories flood back, and I look away from the mirror, unable to look at myself.
I remember every position, every touch, every filthy thing he whispered.
My body tingles at the thought of him.
That stupid smirk, those hands.
Okay, calm down .
I roll my eyes at myself brushing my teeth, but then the memory of his stupid, perfect, double-pierced custard-slinger dripping down my throat flashes through my mind, just as it’s time to spit.
God, I’m hopeless.
I rinse and spit, trying to shake him off, but the more I try, the more it feels like I’m chasing my own tail.
I jump in the shower, letting the hot water relax my sore muscles.
Soaping up, I can’t help thinking of Alessio’s hands all over me, gripping, teasing, owning every inch of me.
Ugh, I might need to blast the cold water if I’m going to survive this morning .
I wash my hair, rinse off, and grab a plush towel.
Drying off quickly, I wrap my wet curls in another towel and glance at the foggy mirror.
With a sigh, I toss the towel aside and head into the closet, fingers trailing over the clothes until I spot a simple dark green shirt dress.
It’s soft, stretchy, and clings just right without feeling too tight.
Perfect for a day of nothing.
I pull the dress over my head, then start drying my hair.
Afterward, I apply a coat of mascara and finish my look with pink Dior lip oil, something I never would’ve splurged on myself, but Paola talked me into it, and honestly, I’m not sorry.
Just as I’m about to mentally pat myself on the back for my efforts, there’s a knock on the door.
Of course, it’s Paola.
The beast only visits at night, and this is my prison.
Well.
.
.
if prison had cashmere sheets and a massively stacked Mafia Don who knew how to make your body do things you didn’t even think were humanly possible.
I swing the door open, and she’s standing there, looking as calm and composed as ever.
“He’s waiting for you in his office,” she says, not even bothering with a “good morning.”
“Let me guess, he’s not the patient one today?” I raise an eyebrow, trying to gauge her expression.
Paola stares at me with a small smile.
“I wouldn’t keep him waiting. He’s in a mood today.” Great.
Why do I feel like this is my funeral?
I sigh dramatically, leaning against the doorframe.
“Fine, let’s get this over with,” I tell her, following her downstairs to his office, each step feeling heavier than the last.
When we reach the hallway to his office, she stops, not daring to be seen near the door.
“When you’re done, come find me in the kitchen. I’m baking cookies and would love some help,” Paola offers .
“Chocolate peanut butter?” I ask, already imagining the sweet, gooey goodness.
Paola made them two nights ago, and I nearly devoured the whole batch in one sitting.
Her baking is the best, and although my thighs won’t approve, I’m not turning them down.
“Like there’s any other kind to make,” she says with a smile before walking toward the kitchen.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself as I head into Alessio’s office.
I push the door open without bothering to knock.
He summoned me, after all.
I’m half-tempted to throw a smart-ass comment his way, but the second I see him leaning against his desk with that devilish look in his eyes, I know I’m in trouble.
“Don’t you knock?” His tone is harsh, like I’m some disobedient child he’s punishing.
Only then do I notice he’s not alone.
Kota and Nathan sit across from him, shooting each other uncomfortable looks.
I’m just glad the other asshole isn’t here.
I haven’t seen much of him lately, not that I mind.
I keep my eyes on Alessio, heat curling low in my stomach.
“Sorry, but you did beckon me, Warden,” I smirk, knowing full well it’ll set him off.
His jaw tightens before he flicks a look at both men, and they’re gone without him saying a single word.
The soft click of the door shutting cages me in with him .
“I didn’t know you were busy,” I say, trying my best to sound sweet.
“Why call me if you couldn’t handle me?”
“You need to learn respect,” he growls, stepping closer.
“Especially in front of my men.”
His hand shoots out, thumb and forefinger clamping my lips shut.
My heart slams against my ribs, but I roll my eyes, silently challenging him.
“Sounds like someone’s used to getting their way,” I mumble through his grip.
His fingers tighten.
That look in his eyes tells me I’m definitely getting punished for this sass.
“You’re not here to talk.”
I grin, pulling back just enough to say, “Well, I’ve got two sets of lips, Warden. Either shut me up or fill me up. Pick one.”
The flash in his eyes sends a thrill through me.
His smirk is entirely way too dangerous.
But I enjoy getting a rise out of him, the punishments are more fun.
Alessio takes a few steps back, settling behind his desk.
He leans back in his chair, watching me like a predator about to pounce.
“Take off your dress and crawl to me.” His voice is deadly calm, like he’s daring me to disobey.
For a split second, I consider defying him, just to see what he’d do.
But his ice-blue eyes staring into my soul make me think twice.
My fingers tremble as I pull the dress over my head, letting it drop to the floor.
Only my white lace bra and panties remain, and moments like this make me glad they were finally delivered, but I had to order more.
The mafia monster has a fetish .
Every pair I’ve worn so far has been ripped to shreds right off my ass.
His eyes, now dark and hungry, sweep over me, making goosebumps prickle all over my body.
I drop to my knees and crawl toward him.
I stop short of his long legs, leaning back on my heels.
My thighs clench, my breath shortens, and God help me, I’m already soaked.
“Come here,” he orders, shifting his chair back, wanting me right between his legs.
“Yes, sir.” The words leave my lips without even thinking, and the heat in his eyes makes my skin burn, kneeling at his feet.
His hand fists in my hair, pulling me up and spinning me around so my back presses against his chest.
His lips brush my ear.
“I like when you call me that,” he says before tearing my bra off, leaving me in just panties, before bending me over the desk.
My nipples harden instantly from the cool wood.
His hands trail down my waist, lingering at my ass.
The snap of his belt sends a shiver down my spine, the anticipation knotting tight in my stomach.
My panties are gone in a second, ripped away like they were never there.
My wrists are bound behind my back before I can even process it.
The leather bites into my skin just enough to make me whimper.
His hand fists in my hair again, yanking me upright.
I’m bare, restrained, and entirely at his mercy.
My head spins, but all I can think is give me more .
“Is this why you called me here, sir?” I breathe, taking a small step back, dragging my fingers over his bulge straining against his pants.
“I don’t remember why I called you in here,” he grins wickedly.
“Be a good girl and get on your fucking knees.”
My body gives in instantly, turning to face him and dropping to my knees.
All rationality is gone.
My pretty kitty is purring, desperate for him, for those damn piercings, for the sting that makes me beg for more.
His cock is out before I blink, thick and hard, the tip glistening with precum and the shine of his piercings.
My tongue darts out, tasting him, and the first salty drop makes me moan .
“Open,” he commands.
Before I can process it, he thrusts deep into my mouth, stretching me, making me take him all.
Tears prick my eyes as he grips my hair, fucking my throat without mercy.
Spit drips down my chin, but the mess only turns me on more.
My arms are bound behind me, and I’m completely at his mercy, taking everything he gives me.
He’s rough and unrelenting.
And it’s fucking perfect.
His thighs tremble, muscles flexing, and with one last thrust, his release fills my mouth.
I swallow every drop, tongue swirling around his piercings as he groans.
He yanks me up before I can catch my breath and bends me over the desk again.
His body presses into mine, every ridge of muscle making my skin burn.
“But now I need to teach you a lesson.” The clink of his belt has my body buzzing when he unties my hands.
“This is what happens when you push too far.”
The first crack of leather against my ass rips a gasp from me, the sting spreading fast and sharp.
My body betrays me.
The horny bitch is already desperate for more.
“Count,” Alessio demands.
“O-one,” I stutter, already shaking.
Another strike, harder this time.
My back arches.
“Two. ”
By the fifth, I’m trembling, wetness dripping down my thighs, heat pooling low in my belly.
My breathing is uneven as he lifts both of my legs, balancing me so my chest presses against the desk while my ass goes in the air—completely exposed and right in his face.
My cheeks burn, and I’m not sure if it’s from the keg-stand position I’m in or the sheer embarrassment of how turned on I am.
A low chuckle vibrates against my inner thigh before his tongue drags along my pussy, slow and teasing, tasting every inch of me.
The pleasure’s too much and not enough all at once, driving me insane.
When I’m about to come with my first almost-handstand orgasm, he sets me back on my feet, standing me upright.
Jerk .
He gets a kick out of edging me and leaving me at his mercy.
“I could eat your pussy all day, but your greedy cunt begs to be fucked.” His hands trail up my back, pushing me forward on the desk.
Then he thrusts in fast and hard, with no warning and no time to adjust.
I scream his name, grabbing the desk for something to hold onto.
He leans down, his voice sending a delicious shiver through me, his breath is hot against my neck.
His hand grips my throat, pulling me against him.
My eyes flutter shut, every inch of him pressing into me like he’s trying to sear himself into my skin.
I’m on the brink of losing it when his hand drags down my stomach, tapping my soaked pussy with just enough sting to make my body jolt.
He grabs my right leg, lifting it on the desk, and brutally thrusts into me.
Then he sinks his teeth into the side of my neck at the same time.
I swear my soul is two seconds away from damn near leaving my body.
“This pussy comes only when I give it permission. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” I whisper, every nerve in my body is trembling.
“Good girl,” he purrs, and my brain blanks out.
His praise shouldn’t undo me like this, but it wrecks me.
I’m not the girl who needs this kind of control, but from him, it’s everything.
His hips snap forward, each thrust more brutal and punishing than the first.
His piercings hit that delicious, sweet spot that makes me whimper and beg like a dick-crazed hornball with no shame.
“Who owns this ass?”
“You do,” I cry out.
My voice cracks when his palm lands on my already sore ass, the sting spreading through me, making my toes curl .
“And who owns this pussy?” he growls, his palm landing on my clit in a stinging spank that nearly sends my soul catapulting out of my body.
“Y-you... A-Alessio,” I sob, grabbing his neck for support.
My knees are ready to buckle, and whatever control I had left is officially scattered in the wind.
His fingers tap my clit again, light and teasing, he enjoys seeing me dangle on the edge.
The spark in my belly turns into a full-blown inferno.
“And who owns every drop of come this pussy spills?”
“You,” I breathe out, bucking my hips against his, meeting his rhythm.
I’m coming undone, and I feel feral and fully unhinged.
My body is on fire, and he’s the only one holding the extinguisher—and, knowing him, he’ll let me burn for fun.
“Damn fucking right,” he growls, tapping my pussy one more time.
“Now be a good girl and come for me. Show me how bad your pussy weeps for my cock to stretch it out and fuck you hard”
It’s like my body’s wired to obey him.
The second the words leave his lips, pleasure detonates.
A scream tears from my throat, and I shatter around him, my walls squeezing him so tight I feel him twitch inside me.
A filthy curse escapes his lips as he pulls out just in time, spilling hot and thick over my ass, dripping down my crack.
My body collapses onto the desk, every muscle boneless and wrecked.
My brain is fried, I’m in a full-on dick coma.
The silent room is filled with our heavy breaths until a chuckle rumbles from him, cocky as ever.
“Still feeling mouthy, Sirena ?”
I glance back at him, smirking even though I know I’m playing with fire.
My voice comes out hoarse but teasing.
“Depends... got another round in you to shut me up?”
His eyes darken instantly, that dangerous look making my already wobbly knees even weaker.
Yeah, I’m definitely not walking out of here anytime soon.