Chapter 48 - Alexei
I kept him pinned to the counter, chest flat, ass presented, wrists still bound tight with the green ribbon.
My hands went to his waistband and yanked his pants and underwear down in one motion, baring him completely. The fabric tangled around his thighs. I didn’t bother freeing him further. I wanted him trapped like this - half-undressed, helpless, open for me.
I brought my palm down harder this time. His ass jiggled under the force of it and a bright red handprint bloomed instantly. He jerked forward with a broken sound. I spanked him again, harder, then again, watching the skin darken, watching him squirm against the marble.
I freed my cock, and dragged the head up and down the cleft of his ass, smearing precome over the heated skin. I rubbed it slowly between his cheeks, pressing just enough to make him feel the weight of it without giving him what he wanted. Every time the head caught on his hole he whimpered.
I reached into the drawer beside the sink, pulled out the lube, and slicked two fingers generously. Without warning I shoved them inside him to the knuckle.
Marco’s whine was high, body clenching hard around the sudden intrusion. I worked them in and out roughly, stretching him open with zero patience.
“That’s it… take my fingers. Your hole’s already sucking them in. Fucking filthy.”
I added a third finger just to hear him break a little more, pumping them deep until he was shaking. Then I pulled them out completely, leaving him empty and clenching around nothing.
I lined my cock up again and dragged it up and down.
“ I’m going to bury myself so deep you’ll still feel me tomorrow.”
I grabbed the belt I’d dropped earlier. With one hand I notched the head of my cock against his hole. With the other I looped the leather around his throat, pulling it taut until his head was forced back, spine arched beautifully.
Marco whined, the sound strangled and sweet.
I thrust forward in one stroke, burying myself to the hilt in a single push.
He yelped.
I didn’t give him time to adjust.
The second that yelp left his mouth I started fucking him.
My hips snapped forward again and again.
The belt stayed tight around his throat; every thrust forced another strangled sound out of him.
I kept his head pulled back so I could watch the way his mouth fell open, the way his eyes watered, the way his bound wrists strained against the green ribbon.
“Fuck. This tight little hole is gripping me so fucking hard.”
“A-Alexei….please… it feels so—ah—”
I released the belt just long enough to bring my hand down on his already-red ass then grabbed the leather again and yanked his head back even sharper. The new angle let me drive deeper.
I spat down onto the place where our bodies joined, watching the saliva mix with lube and drip down his balls. Then I reached around and wrapped my free hand around his cock, stroking him in time with my thrusts.
“You’re leaking all over my hand. You love this, don’t you? Being used like a slut.”
Marco’s answer was immediate. “I do…I love it….please, use me, I’m yours—”
I let go of his cock, brought the wet fingers to his mouth, and shoved two of them past his lips.
“Suck. Taste how desperate you are.”
He did, tongue swirling even as I kept pounding into him. Drool spilled down his chin as he tried to speak around my fingers.
“Mmhh—”
When I pulled my fingers free I used the slickness to slap his cheek lightly, leaving a shiny mark.
“Good boy. Such a good little slut for me.”
I shifted my stance and started slamming into him even harder. The counter creaked under the force. Every thrust shoved him forward an inch until his chest was sliding on the marble, nipples dragging against the surface.
I leaned down, still buried to the hilt, and bit the side of his neck hard enough to bruise - right above where the leather pressed into his skin. Then I licked the mark.
My free hand slid under his body again, cupping his balls, rolling them roughly while I kept driving into him.
“Gonna fill you up so deep it’ll leak out of you for days.”
Marco’s voice cracked into the sweetest, most broken plea.
“Please…fill me, I want it, I want to feel you dripping out of me…please Alexei—”
I pulled almost all the way out until only the head remained inside him, then slammed back in with a force that punched another broken cry from his throat. Again. And again.
I tightened the belt another notch, forcing his back into a deeper arch, and set a pace that left no room for anything but the wet sounds of me taking him apart while he kept whispering obedient little pleas under every thrust.
“I’m so close, I can’t—”
“Not yet,” I snarled against his ear, never slowing. “You come when I say. You hold it like a good little slut until I fill this greedy hole.”
Marco’s voice cracked into the sweetest, most desperate whimper.
I released the belt just enough for him to drag in a full breath, then used that same hand to fist his hair and yank his head sideways so I could bite down on the side of his neck again. My other hand returned to his cock, stroking him in mean pulls timed to the brutal snap of my hips.
“You’re perfect.” I praised.
I felt his hole start to flutter and clamp down harder around me. The pressure was exquisite, dragging me right to the edge with him. I slammed in as deep as I could go and stayed there for a second, grinding against his prostate while my fist worked his leaking cock.
“Come for me, Malyshka. Come on my cock.”
Marco shattered with a cry, body seizing under me. The feeling of him falling apart dragged me over with him.
I slammed in one final time, buried to the hilt, and unloaded with a groan. I kept the belt tight and my hips pressed flush against his red, trembling ass, forcing every drop as deep as it could go.
“Fuck, you’re so good for me.”
Marco was still whimpering softly, body limp and shaking, little submissive sounds spilling out of him as I continued to pulse inside him.
I stayed buried, breathing hard against the back of his neck, one hand still wrapped in the belt and the other gently stroking his spent cock through the last weak spurts.
Only when the final aftershocks faded did I loosen the leather around his throat and press a rough, open-mouthed kiss to the marks I’d left.
He was full, marked, trembling, and completely mine.
***
Now that Marco was safe and healing, my mind finally had room to function again.
The grinding static of fear that had lived behind my eyes for weeks had quieted. I could think in straight lines. I could look at problems without the urge to burn everything. And the first problem waiting for me was Ilya.
Dimitri and I had been circling the same question for months: who the fuck was putting their hands on him.
The idiot still refused to say a word. He smiled, he joked and he acted normal.
But I knew. If I reached across the table right now and shoved his sleeve up to the elbow, I would find fresh bruises layered over old ones.
He still refused to wear short sleeves even in the heat.
That alone was confession enough. Someone was hurting him, and the fact that he protected the bastard made my trigger finger itch.
I filed the thought away for later.
There were more immediate fires.
The other syndicates were at my throat. Dimitri had finally taken his seat at the head of the Morozov empire, and that alone made the old families nervous.
Power shifting always did. But the real poison was me.
After my little stunt - one hundred and forty-seven bodies in a single night - most of them wanted my head on a spike.
I didn’t care.
I would do it again without blinking.
What actually had them sweating was the upcoming visit from the Kazuma family.
The largest Yakuza organization operating in the States.
We had an alliance - tenuous, profitable, and built on mutual respect for each other’s capacity for violence - but everyone understood the unspoken rule.
If one side fucked up badly enough to draw federal heat or public scandal, the Kazumas would not hesitate to erase the problem.
They had the resources to dismantle five East Coast families using only a quarter of their strength and still have enough left over for dinner.
It could turn bloody in a matter of days.
That was why the old men at this table were so terrified of any “psychopath” drawing unnecessary eyes.
Everyone at this table feared the Kazumas.
I still didn’t give a single shit.
I sat at Dimitri’s right, posture lazy, expression blank. One of the older man cleared his throat and fixed me with a watery stare.
“Morozov. I trust we will have no further… incidents while the Kazuma delegation is in the city. The last thing any of us need is another spectacle.”
It was almost funny. For years I had been the controlled one. Dimitri was the hothead. Now, I was suddenly the reckless liability.
I leaned back in my chair, voice flat.
“I killed some people. That doesn’t magically turn me into a hotheaded bitch.”
Dimitri snorted under his breath beside me.
From the side of the room, Ilya’s voice cut in, cheerful and vicious. “Shut your ass, old bag. Nobody asked for the lecture.”
The man’s face flushed an ugly red. He opened his mouth to argue, finger already rising, but the double doors at the far end of the room opened before he could speak.
The Kazuma heir had arrived for the talks.
And color me fucking surprised.
Why the hell was Kento Kurosaki walking inside?
I watched Kento walk into the room like he owned the fucking air.
Black leather jacket, heavy boots, a bright red lollipop dangling from the corner of his mouth. Dimitri’s face mirrored the shock I felt. Ilya, though had gone pale.