Chapter Forty-three
Lorenzo
“Are you still coming?” Andres asks while I’m thrusting into her.
I clamp my hand over her mouth, muffling her cries as I hold the phone between my shoulder and ear.
“Yeah,” I tell him, tightening my grip in her hair, forcing her to stay bent over the kitchen table. “I’ll be there soon.”
I try to sound calm. Collected.
But fuck.
The way her pussy strangles my cock right now has my control hanging by a thread.
He’s still on the line when I finally remove my hand from her mouth and cut the call.
“Oh, Lorenzo,” she gasps, voice wrecked, “I can’t anymore. Please let me come.”
Fuck.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Andres mutters on the other side of the line.
“Oh, please,” Serena cries again, louder this time.
I slap her ass, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to remind her who’s in control.
“Quiet, love.”
“Yeah, you better,” I say to Andres before hanging up.
Now she has my full attention.
I turn her to face me and lift her onto the kitchen table. She’s spread open for me, flushed and shaking, lips swollen from how much I’ve kissed her. Her blonde highlights fall into her face and I push them aside because I need to see her.
I need to see that she’s here.
Alive.
Mine.
I grip her waist and pull her down onto my cock again. The wet, filthy sound of us fills the kitchen.
“You’re fucking soaked,” I growl.
She arches her back instantly, matching my rhythm. “Yeah,” she pants, breath uneven. “That happens every time you touch me.”
“It does?” I murmur, leaning down to bite at her nipple, watching her body react. Feeling her get even wetter around me.
“Yes,” she cries, completely gone for me.
Fuck.
A week ago I thought I’d lost her.
Thought I’d watched her disappear forever.
It’s only been seven days since that fucking nightmare, and I’ve been fucking her every day since I was able to stand without collapsing. Like I’m proving she’s still here. Like if I stop touching her, she’ll vanish again.
I tried to stick to my heroic bullshit. Tried to tell her I meant what I said. That she deserved a life without me.
She slapped me across the face for daring to suggest it.
And five minutes later I had her bent over this same table, reminding her exactly why she’ll never want a life without me.
I don’t want her safe without me.
I want her safe with me.
And right now, the way she’s clenching around my cock like she’s terrified I’ll disappear again?
She doesn’t want to lose me either.
“Fuck, I missed you,” I tell her as I thrust into her again.
Her head falls back, fingers digging into my shoulders like she’s holding on for dear life.
“You fucked me six hours ago,” she pants.
I slam into her harder.
“Oh my—” she moans, body arching. “When I woke up at three in the morning with your tongue inside me.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, lifting her legs onto my shoulders, pushing her flat onto the table. “Too long ago.”
I drive into her deeper, hitting that exact spot that makes her eyes roll back.
“And that didn’t count,” I growl. “I was hungry.”
“Lorenzo!” she screams.
Fuck.
I’m so hard it fucking hurts.
“I thought I lost you,” I say, thrusting harder now, the words slipping out before I can stop them. Vulnerability tastes bitter on my tongue. “I thought one day another man would have this.”
I push into her harder.
She cries out and comes all over my cock, her body tightening violently around me.
I don’t slow down.
I fuck her through it, harder, deeper, my thumb finding her clit, pressing firm.
“What—” she gasps, already sensitive.
“Since I’m well and alive,” I mutter, fucking into her like I’m carving my existence into her bones. “I’m making sure you remember this pussy doesn’t see any other fucking cock in this life. Or the next.”
Sweat drips down my forehead. Her body is shaking, dripping, a beautiful fucking mess.
She’s perfect.
“I’m yours,” she cries. “Everything I am, everything I have, it’s yours.”
My balls tighten hard at that.
“I’m yours, Lorenzo.” She pulls me closer, her eyes locking onto mine. “It’s always been you.”
Fuck.
I thrust harder and she comes again, screaming, and two strokes later I spill inside her, groaning low against her skin.
“Fuck,” I breathe, collapsing forward, resting my head against her breasts.
For a second, neither of us moves.
Then I lift my head and look at her.
“You’re mine,” I tell her.
It’s meant to sound like a warning, something sharp enough to make her stop. Instead, it comes out like a plea, the words breaking softer than I intended. The edge is gone, replaced by something raw and desperate. Because I’m not threatening her. I’m begging her not to leave me.
“Don’t ever forget that.”
“How could I?” she whispers, brushing her lips against mine. “You have my heart, Lorenzo. And you give me the most mind-blowing orgasms. How could another man ever compete with that?”
She giggles softly.
And something in my chest loosens.
“Yeah,” I murmur, kissing her again. “Just making sure you know I’m back to being territorial. And I have no problem erasing any man who thinks about wanting you.”
She laughs.
She fucking laughs.
And it’s the sweetest sound I’ve heard in a week of nightmares.
“I’m sure no one dares think about the Capo’s woman,” she says softly.
Fuck.
Every time she calls me Capo, I feel it in my blood.
I slide my finger slowly over her clit, watching her reaction. She moans instantly, head falling back, body still sensitive from what I just did to her.
“Oh, they think about you, love,” I murmur, circling her clit lazily. “They absolutely fucking think about you.”
Her breath catches.
“But they don’t dare,” I continue. “Because they know I wouldn’t hesitate to shove their own cock down their throat the second it gets hard looking at you.”
I push one finger deep into her wet pussy.
She’s soaked, still covered in her cum and mine, and somehow getting wetter.
I love how sensitive she is. How she reacts to everything I do.
“If you fuck me again, I’m going to pass out,” she moans, arching her back.
I slide a second finger inside her, pumping slowly now.
“Lorenzo,” she whispers.
“Yes, baby?” I murmur against her ear, kissing just below it.
She rolls her hips, fucking herself on my fingers. “Can you fuck me again, please?”
The desperation in her voice makes my cock twitch instantly.
“You need my cock filling your sweet pussy again, Serena?” I growl.
“I need you to fuck me hard,” she breathes.
That’s all I need.
I pull my fingers out and thrust into her in one hard stroke.
She gasps.
“Everything you want, baby girl,” I say, driving into her again. And again.
Then—
“I hope you’re decent!”
The shout from the hallway cuts through the air.
“Fuck.”
I help Serena down from the table quickly. She grabs her dress, trying to pull it back on. I smack her ass lightly and she giggles, cheeks flushed.
I tuck my hard cock back into my pants, adjusting myself while she reaches for her panties.
“No,” I say, picking them up and sliding them into my pocket. “You’re not putting these back on.”
She looks at me, eyes wide.
“I want you bare,” I murmur, pulling her into me. “I want my cum dripping down your legs.”
I kiss her hard and squeeze her ass.
“Ugh! It smells like sex in here!” Sienna yells from outside.
“I want you walking around with the reminder of my cock inside you,” I whisper. “And your pussy loving every second of it.”
She blushes.
Hard.
Sienna cracks the door open slowly. “Is it safe to enter?”
Serena laughs and opens it wider.
“You look freshly fucked,” Sienna says bluntly.
Serena blushes even more. I smirk.
The dogs burst in next, tails wagging. Pancake’s leg is still healing from surgery, but he moves better now. Milkshake stays close to him like always, protective, loyal.
I crouch and pet them both, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads.
Fuck. I have a meeting in five minutes.
“Where’s Bianca?” Serena asks.
“She’s with the babies. They were exhausted from the walk,” Sienna replies, hugging her.
Then she glances at the table. “Please tell me you didn’t just fuck on the table we eat on.”
Serena goes red.
I just wink.
“I need to go,” I tell her, kissing her forehead. “See you tonight.”
I lean closer. “Wait for me naked and spread wide on the bed.”
“Lorenzo!” she hisses, embarrassed.
Sienna rolls her eyes.
I grin.
And then I head out.
As I pull into the parking lot, I exhale slowly.
Fuck.
This place is massive.
Kirill told us Tyurma was ready for its guests, but I wasn’t expecting this. Not even close.
It looks like a high-security prison disguised as a Russian aristocrat’s wet dream. Electric fences stretch around the perimeter. Guards patrol every corner. Snipers positioned on the rooflines like statues with rifles.
And the aesthetic?
Gothic Russian mansion. All black stone and sharp edges. Massive statues lining the entrance like silent judges.
Subtle as always, Kirill.
He gave me the access card personally. I slide it against the reader and the front doors unlock with a quiet mechanical click.
“LVBEL C5” by BABA thunders through the speakers, the bass vibrating through the entire house. Inside, everything mirrors the outside, flashy, unapologetic, and a little chaotic.
Black walls. Dark carved Russian furniture. Heavy chandeliers. Everything feels expensive and oppressive at the same time.
But beneath the antique aesthetic, it’s fully automated.
Every door requires the card. Limited access zones. Restricted movement. You can’t even breathe here without permission
I take the lift down. Three floors. The metal doors slide shut with a dull click, sealing me inside the small, silent space. The lift begins its slow descent, the faint hum of the mechanism the only sound left.
The lower we go, the quieter it becomes, as if the building itself is swallowing the noise above. The prisoners are categorized by their sins, Kirill explained once, his voice calm, almost amused.
The worst ones get the last floor.
As the doors slide open, I step out, and I stop.
Lev.