Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
M y back slams against the wall as the cold press of a gun digs under my chin. I grunt under the pressure Varo pins me with, unable to ignore the subtle grind of his hips against mine.
“You shouldn’t be here, Kyrovsky,” he growls. There’s no room for arguing when he presses the barrel harder while his other hand wraps around my throat.
“Last time I checked, I didn’t take orders from you,” I challenge through a raspy voice.
His grip tightens, squeezing until the air is stuck halfway between my throat and lungs. “Let me reiterate… I don’t want you here.” The venom lacing his tone would bother me more if I couldn’t feel his excitement digging into my hip—which only encourages me more to push back.
“Your dick says otherwise, malen'kiy d'yavol .”
Through the vivid darkness, our eyes lock. His jaw flickers with irritation, though I don’t know if it’s because I’m here, or that I just called him out. The tension between us is taut with pent up energy, the same energy we’ve been fighting for years.
For moments, we’re anchored in place, but with every second that passes, I can feel his resolve slowly slip away.
And then his mouth is on mine.
It’s feverish and uncoordinated, our tongues sliding together as we momentarily forget about who we are to one another, and just revel in the moment. Our lips continue to smash together between distorted breaths, his body caging me against the wall. Somewhere in the background, I hear him drop his gun before I’m pulled forwards through the dark. Varo’s hands grip the back of my neck, sliding down my chest until he’s tugging at my jacket, guiding me through his living room by his body.
Step by step, pieces of clothing are torn from our bodies as our mouths ravage one another’s. Adrenaline and excitement soar through my veins, devouring our ability to stop. It doesn’t take long before we’re both naked, Varo’s hand coming to my rock hard dick and stroking it languidly. His thumb reaches the tip, spreading precum over the head as he licks his lips. But instead of doing what I expect, he pulls away with authority piercing his green eyes.
“On your knees, Kyrovsky.”
I smirk. Only he can make a command sound so fucking sexy that I comply without hesitation. I’m never submissive, because I find the challenge more exciting. But for him, I don’t have full control of my autonomy. I drop to my knees, my hand wrapping around his swollen cock, pumping him firmly as I peer up at him. His abs tense on each breath as he watches me, the shadows from the low light dipping and highlighting every muscle that adorns his body. From his sharp jawline, to the cords of muscle rippling over his biceps as he clenches his fist, I’m struggling to focus. I’ve never had the opportunity to really appreciate Alvaro’s body. He obviously looks after it, as well as decorating it with a number of tattoos. He’s not bulky, but definitely athletic. Every part of his body is finely tuned, lean but strong, and I’ve never felt more attracted to somebody than I do him right now.
He bites down on his bottom lip as he watches me, and it’s right then that I realize how fucked we both truly are. Even through the shadows, I can see that he’s thinking the same thing. But when I lock eyes with him, I don’t see any hesitation.
Licking a path from the head to the base of his cock, I revel in the way his breaths grow shallow as I take him in my mouth, the way his fingers tighten in my hair as he guides me up and down. I take him deep, then shallow just to tease him because clearly he wants all the control. I’ve fucked myself enough to the memories of us in the locker room that now it’s my turn to take control.
A growl reverberates from his chest. “Stop fucking teasing.”
I smirk, licking the tip tentatively over and over until Varo pushes me away, sending my back slamming against the edge of the bed.
He’s angry and I love it. The hunger in Varo’s eyes is undeniably magnetic, pulling me into a storm I know I won't escape unscathed. But I’d rather chase the storm, regardless of the danger, than never feel his wrath.
In a matter of moments, I’m spun around as Varo shoves me face-first onto the bed, a hand sliding through my hair to tug my head back. The heat of his toned body envelops mine, his now wet dick pressing against my ass. “You were fucking warned,” he sneers before licking a path from my jaw to my temple. The silent promise in his words has me harder than I ever thought I could be, my cock fighting the mattress beneath my body as a moan slips out.
With his fingers digging into my hips, Varo yanks them up and spits, the warm liquid sliding down my ass. “You like being fucked by someone half your age?” he taunts as I hear the sound of a condom wrapper being torn.
“Is this your version foreplay?” I mock.
“You think you deserve foreplay?” he counters, his voice low and strained as his hand slides down my ass.
I chuckle breathily before he slides a finger into me, pumping in and out, and I lose all ability to come out with a witty response. I’m not even that old—only 8 years older—but the fact he thinks as much shows how little he knows about me. I suppose that’s a good thing.
He retracts his finger and I groan, letting my head drop to the pillow. The loss of his touch is enough to mess with my head, but then he positions himself behind me. A pained moan escapes him as he presses his dick against my ass. His breaths are strained, fingers gripping me like he’s trying to hold himself back. I push backwards, urging him to fuck me the way he so obviously wants to, because I want it just as much. I don’t want him to pull any punches. I want the unfiltered mobster. The devil beneath the Armani suit. The man that is so damn hot and cold that it burns and freezes my soul all at the same time. I want the pain, because the pleasure is inevitable.
“You gonna fuck me or what, Bonanno?”
He thrusts without hesitation, filling me, engulfing me completely with both his body and thick cock. And although it’s painful, the pleasure it brings is euphoric. I’ve always skated close to pain, preferring it actually. So when Alvaro pounds into me relentlessly, determined punches of his hips hitting the spot so fucking precisely, I enjoy the place it takes me.
He grabs the front of my throat and pulls me to his chest. Sweat trickles down my back, his hot breath panting in my ear as he reaches around and wraps his hand around my dick.
“Fuck…” I grunt, my hips punching forward as I chase his hand. It’s not rushed or tentative. There’s a distinct carnality to his actions, like he wants to savor this moment while destroying me completely.
“Yeah. You’re fucked alright,” he whispers.
I don’t need to see him to know there’s a grin plastered over his face, the deep gruffness of his voice is enough to go on. I reach behind me, tilting my head as Varo drags his teeth over the side of my throat, sinking them into the soft spot between my shoulder and neck. I shudder from the pain that blends perfectly with the way he’s working my body, even though my veins are burning white hot and my body is on fire.
His hips and hand work in perfect synchronicity, building us up to explosive heights. His hand hooks around my chin, forcing his soft lips to mine. He parts my mouth with his tongue and in a seconds, we’re both free falling.
Warmth fills my ass at the same time my balls tighten and thick ribbons of cum spill into Varo’s hand. Sparks fly across my vision, my body collapsing forward as I try to get both my thoughts and breaths under control.
A blissed-out silence follows us as he rolls onto his back and I tuck a pillow below beneath my head. There are no words to say right now as I look up at a passive Varo, sparking up a cigarette and tossing the condom into a small trash can in the corner. The darkness he exudes on a daily basis isn’t lost, even after he just came. He still looks like he’s at war with the world and it intrigues me as to why a guy at his age has so many chips on his shoulder.
Getting comfortable, I reach over to snatch the cigarette from his lips, bringing it to my own and taking a long pull on it. He stares at me for a moment before taking the smoke back from me, repositioning the covers so they’re draped over his waist.
“Can I ask you a question?” he finally asks, exhaling a cloud of smoke before passing me the cigarette.
Taking another drag, I narrow my eyes on him in suspicion before shrugging. “Depends.”
“Whatever,” Varo scoffs, folding his hands behind his head. His muscles stretch under the tension, my eyes drawn to each intricate design inked on his body. From the family name tattooed on his pec, to the skulls and snakes twisting down his left side. Each image clearly has a story.
Reaching out, I run my finger over the script font that spells out ‘Bonanno’. It’s simple, completed with a crest that I’ve never seen before. Varo pauses my movement, taking the cigarette that’s between my fingers. He’s still waiting for my answer, and I’m not really sure what he’s going to ask but the way he looks at me isn’t filled with any malice. So I take a leap, letting my hand rest on his chest.
“What’s your question, Bonanno?”
Smirking, he finishes the cigarette off with one long drag before stubbing it out in the ashtray beside his bed. “What does… mal…malen?—”
“ Malen'kiy d'yavol ?” I chuckle at his attempt to speak Russian.
“Yeh,” he sighs with a weak smile.
I rest my chin on my hand that’s resting on his chest, looking into those dangerous eyes. “It means ‘little devil’.”
There’s a beat of silence that stretches between us as he slides his hand into my hair, beckoning me closer. He presses his lips to mine, and my body relaxes. His tongue snakes into my mouth, deepening the kiss and despite just coming hard, I could definitely go again.
But Alvaro pulls back slightly, his eyes narrowed on me suspiciously. “So is this what you came over for?”
I roll onto my side and sigh. I could lie and tell him what he needs to hear, or I could be completely honest. Which for once in my life, seems easier. “Not specifically, no.”
I look back at Varo to find him frowning at me. Pushing up to a sitting position, I clear my throat. Honesty is going to bite me on the ass for this, but it’s something I need to do. After my meeting the other day, I need to make sure the Russians get what they want. I can’t afford for them not to. “I need to ask a favor,” I finally say.
Alvaro exhales loudly, linking his hands behind his head as he fixes his focus ahead of him. “I don’t think you’re really in any position to be asking for favors, Milo.” He sounds bored, and fuck, if that isn’t irritating me right now.
“Vee, you just fucked my ass. I think you can at least entertain me.”
Leaning closer, I feel his breath skate over my lips as he offers me a wry smile. “And I’d fuck it again.”
My brows kick up. As much I enjoy the back and forth, I need to get this out there and hope that Varo gives me this.
“Fine,” he grumbles, sinking back into his pillows. For a guy his age, he wears power and authority like a second skin, and I’m almost certain this is going to end badly. “What is it?”
I take a deep breath, rubbing a hand over my face. Here goes nothing. “I need you to let the Russians have access to the docks.”
Varo’s eyes collide with mine in what can only be described as a terrifying blend of shock and disgust. “The fuck?”
“Vee, just hear?—”
“No!” he snaps, jumping off the bed.
I inch up onto my knees. “Alvaro!” I plead. I’ve never been one to beg, but shit between the Italians and Russians is already getting heavy. Konstantin won’t let it go, and I know he’ll be out for blood if he doesn’t get what he wants.
“I can’t believe this.” Alvaro paces back and forth in front of the bed, tugging at the strands of his raven-black hair. “Actually, I fucking can! You’ve got some fucking nerve.”
I rock forward, reaching out for his hand. “It’s not like that!”
“No?” he barks, snatching his hand away. “So you didn’t think you could come here and fuck me into submission?”
Shit. He thinks I’m that deceitful? “No, I didn’t. That just?—”
“You need to leave.”
I gape back at him. I know that Alvaro’s personality is like dynamite, so delicate and volatile. It only takes a spark to light the fuse and everything is demolished. Before I can even explain, he spins around and disappears through the bedroom door.
“Alvaro!” I can hear footsteps, shuffling and huffing before he reappears in the doorway. He tosses a pile of clothes at me— my clothes— while glaring at me like I just tried to kill him.
“Get the fuck out!” he seethes, raising his gun at me. His chest heaves with anger. Gone is the laid-back, just fucked Alvaro, and in his place is a man about two seconds from putting a bullet between my eyes.
“Vee,” I say calmly. I stand up from the bed, slowly approaching him with all the caution I can muster. “Listen to me.”
The safety clicks off, the barrel pressed against my forehead. I swallow thickly, rethinking my words. There’s no way to calm him down, and I don’t doubt for a second that he would hesitate to pull the trigger. After seeing what happened to Mason Aintree, I wouldn’t put anything past him.
“I don’t need to listen to shit. Especially from a filthy fucking Russian. So, fuck. Off!”
He shoves me with his gun, eyes glancing down to the clothes in my hands. Though the anger is real, I see the hurt he’s trying to hide. I totally played this wrong and I’ve fucked up, I know that. But I need to remember that what happens between Varo and I is completely separate from my loyalty to the Russians.
Whether he was expecting something different is unknown. All I know is that I’m treading on a minefield, and I need to watch each step.