22. Nerio
22
NERIO
I t doesn't take long after they see their capo go down for the other guys to start retreating. Marco looks to me, and I give him a nod. We're going to let some of them run, to tell the others.
I want my message spread. Don't fuck with the Buetis.
I wipe blood from my knuckles, standing between Jazz and the mess behind me. Her breath comes quick and shallow - she's trying hard not to look past my shoulders at what's happening in the alley.
"Tony, make sure they're dead." My voice cuts through the night air. "All of them." Some can run, but I'm not leaving that many survivors.
"Already on it, boss." Tony's footsteps crunch over broken glass. A muffled thud follows, then another.
Marco drags his sleeve across his face, smearing red. "Found their phones. Want me to take care of them?"
"Crush them, then dump them in different spots. Nothing traceable."
Behind me, Jazz shifts her weight. I reach back without looking, my hand finding her hip. She's trembling, but stays put.
"This one's still breathing," calls out Gio from deeper in the alley.
"Fix it," I say.
A single gunshot echoes off the brick walls. Jazz flinches against my back.
"Clean this up," I tell the guys. "Marco, coordinate with disposal. I want this alley spotless by morning."
"Got it covered." Marco's already pulling out his phone. "I'll call in the cleaners."
I survey the aftermath while keeping Jazz close. The metallic tang of blood hangs thick in the air, mixing with exhaust fumes and the acrid stench of gunpowder. My guys are scattered around, some nursing wounds, others helping secure the scene.
"Pete, how's that arm?" I call out to one of my soldiers slumped against the wall.
"Just a graze, boss." He presses a hand to his bicep, blood seeping between his fingers. "Nothing that needs more than a few stitches."
Marco limps over, favoring his right leg. "We got lucky. Could've been worse if they'd brought more men."
"They underestimated us." I flex my bruised knuckles. "Typical Mantione arrogance. Always thinking they can muscle in wherever they want."
"Should we expect retaliation?" Tony asks, wiping his blade clean on a fallen enemy's jacket.
"Not immediately." I scan the bodies being dragged away. "This was meant to be a show of force. Instead, they'll crawl back to Luca with their tails between their legs."
Jazz's fingers dig into my back. I turn slightly, keeping her shielded while addressing my men.
"Get the wounded to Sam's clinic. Tell him it's urgent." I gesture to Pete and two others nursing injuries. "Marco, once disposal's done here, spread the word. The Buetis aren't playing games anymore."
"What about their capo?" Marco nods toward the still figure being loaded into a van.
"Leave him where they'll find him. They need to see what happens when you cross into our territory."
The message is clear - we're not looking to start a war, but we won't back down. Sometimes showing mercy sends a stronger message than killing. The Mantiones will think twice before trying this again.
"Boss," one of my guys calls out. "We found their stash in the van. Looks like they were planning to set up shop right under our noses."
I smile coldly. "Burn it. All of it. Let them explain that loss to their superiors."
I turn to Jazz, satisfaction from the cleanup morphing into anger as I remember why we're in this mess. "What part of 'stay back there' wasn't clear?"
"Oh, I'm sorry." To my surprise, she crosses her arms, looking more pissed than remorseful. "Next time I'll just let them shoot you."
"I fucking had it!"
"You didn't see them coming." Her chin juts up. "I wasn't about to-"
"You weren't about to what?" I close the distance between us. "Get yourself killed? Because that's exactly what could have happened."
"I can handle myself."
"Against trained killers?" My laugh comes out harsh. "You think this is a game?"
"No, I think this is my life." She jabs a finger at my chest. "My life. My choices. And I did what I fucking decided to do."
"You're supposed to do what I fucking tell you to do." I lean over her, anger brewing in me.
"I don't listen to you," she snaps.
"No? Then why don't you walk away?" I release her wrist, spread my arms. "Go ahead. Leave. See how long you last with the Mantiones gunning for our territory."
"Fuck you, Nerio."
But I can almost see it there, where this anger is coming from. I'm pissed she almost got hurt. She's pissed that I almost got hurt. And for people like us…well, it's a whole hell of a lot easier to be pissed than scared.
So I'll fucking take a pissed off Jazz.
"There's that mouth again." I reach for her neck, fingers wrapping around her throat. Not squeezing, just holding. "The one that's going to get you into serious trouble."
She doesn't back down, pressing closer instead. "What are you going to do about it?"
The challenge in her voice snaps my control. I bend, shoulder hitting her waist as I lift her up.
"Put me down!" She pounds my back with her fists.
"We're done here." I call to Marco over her protests. "Handle the rest."
"Where are you taking me?" She squirms against my grip.
"Somewhere I can teach you about following orders." I stride toward the cars waiting at the end, her curses echoing off the alley walls.
The ride home is silent and charged. I expected her to fold by now, but since she hasn't, I'm growing a bit more irritated.
When I park the car, I carry her straight through the penthouse to the bathroom, ignoring her protests. Setting her down, I start checking her arms, her neck, anywhere they might have touched her.
"I can do this myself." She tries to swat my hands away.
"Shut up and let me look." I grab her chin, tilting her face to check a mark on her cheek. "Any pain here?"
"No." She jerks away. "And I told you, I'm fine."
"You're bleeding." I point to a small cut on her forearm.
"It's nothing." But she lets me clean it with antiseptic, only hissing slightly at the sting.
"Hold still." I press a bandage over the cut. "Anywhere else hurt?"
"Just my pride from being carried like a sack of potatoes."
I snort, stepping back to strip off my bloody shirt. Jazz's eyes track the movement before she spins around.
"I'm going to shower," she announces.
"Fine. I'll order food."
By the time she emerges in fresh clothes, I've changed and laid out takeout containers on the kitchen counter. She slides onto a barstool, reaching for the pad thai.
"You're favoring your right side," I point out.
"And you're being annoying." But there's less bite in her tone now.
We eat in tense silence until I can't take it anymore. "It wasn't completely stupid."
She pauses mid-bite. "What?"
I grunt, stabbing at my food. "Having my back. It wasn't completely stupid. Reckless as hell, but...well, I appreciate it."
A small smile tugs at her lips. "Yeah well, thanks for not letting them kill me after I ran in there like an idiot."
"That's as close to an apology as I'm getting, isn't it?"
"Pretty much." She steals a piece of chicken from my container.
I shake my head, but can't quite hide my own smile. "Eat your food before I change my mind about being nice."
"Please, you're never nice."
"I ordered your favorite, didn't I?"
She just rolls her eyes, but the earlier tension starts to morph. Her eyes drag down me like she's sizing me up, I feel my cock start to stir when she bites down on that bottom lip. "I thought my mouth was going to get me in serious trouble?"
The way she says it…It's like she's asking for a punishment.
And after what happened tonight, I am all too eager to bury myself in her, to drown in her body and not think about anything else. It seems she might be feeling the same.
“You're right, little dove,” I say, pushing back from the table, spreading my legs wide. Jazz’s eyes flick down, then back up, meeting mine with a fiery challenge. I unbuckle my belt, slowly undoing my pants, pulling out my cock, already hard and thick at the sight of her. I stroke it, watching her intently as her eyes widen with hunger. “And it's time for you to see how.”
She swallows, dragging her teeth over her lower lip. The motion sends a jolt straight to my groin.
“Crawl to me,” I command, my voice low and rough. Her eyes flash with defiance, but she doesn’t argue. She crawls from her chair to mine, her knees sinking into the plush carpet, her gaze never leaving mine as she settles between my legs.
“You were disobedient tonight, Jazz.” I lean forward slightly, my thumb still working the head of my cock, teasing her with the motion. “Normally, you’re such a good girl. But tonight?” I shake my head, a cruel smirk playing at the edges of my lips. “Tonight, you need to be punished.”
To my surprise, she only nods, her eyes dropping to my cock again for a second before meeting mine. The submission in her gaze is intoxicating, mixing with the defiance I know is still simmering beneath the surface.
I gather her hair in my hand, wrapping it around my fist, tilting her head back. “This mouth of yours needs to be put to better use than spouting off your fucking attitude.” I bring her closer, feeling her breath hot on my skin. “Open up, Jazz.”
Her lips part slightly, her breath hitching as I guide her head toward me. I can see the war in her eyes, the mix of desire and defiance that makes her so infuriatingly captivating. I brush the head of my cock against her lips, feeling the softness, the heat.
“Use this pretty mouth for something worthwhile,” I murmur, pushing her head down, feeling her lips part to take me in. The sensation is electric, her tongue sliding against my length, her mouth hot and wet around me. I grip her hair tighter, guiding her movements, watching her take me deeper.
“That’s it,” I growl, my hips starting to move, thrusting into her mouth. “Take it, Jazz. Show me you can be a good girl.”
Her eyes water slightly, but she doesn’t back down. She takes me deeper, her throat constricting around me as she works to keep up with my pace. I can feel the tension building in me, the need to dominate, to possess her completely.
“Fuck, Jazz,” I groan, pulling her head back slightly, giving her a moment to catch her breath before thrusting deeper. “You feel so fucking good.”
Her hands grip my thighs, her nails digging in slightly as if to anchor herself. The sight of her on her knees, taking me like this, is more intoxicating than any drug. I can feel the control slipping, the need to come overriding everything else.
I push deeper, and Jazz coughs around my cock, her eyes watering as she struggles to take me all in. I keep my grip firm on her hair, guiding her, controlling the pace.
"Fuck, Jazz," I growl, looking down at her. "Your throat feels incredible. Squeezing my cock so fucking tight."
She gags slightly, but I don't let up. This is her punishment, her penance for disobeying me. She needs to learn, and I need to feel her submit. But when I surge forward, burying to the hilt, I see that she is.
"You're taking it so well," I murmur, easing back just enough to let her breathe. "Such a good girl, taking your punishment like this."
She moans around me, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through my body. I can feel her throat constricting, her tongue working the underside of my cock. It's fucking heaven.
"You like that, don't you?" I say, thrusting deeper again. "You like choking on my cock, little dove."
Her eyes meet mine, defiance mixed with surrender. She's fighting it, fighting the pleasure, the submission. But she's also craving it, craving the reward that comes with giving in.
"I think you've earned something," I tell her, pulling her head back, letting my cock slip from her lips with a pop. She gasps for breath, her cheeks tear-streaked, her lips swollen.
"Good girls get cum, Jazz," I say, stroking myself, feeling the heat of her mouth still lingering. "And you've been such a good girl."
She stares up at me, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her eyes locked onto mine. I can see the anticipation, the need. She wants this, wants me.
"Open wide," I command, my voice rough with desire. She obeys, her mouth opening, her tongue out, ready.
I stroke myself faster, the sight of her waiting, eager, pushing me over the edge. With a groan, I come, my release hot and thick, filling her mouth.
"Swallow," I tell her, my voice a low growl. "Swallow it all, Jazz."
She does, her throat working as she takes every last drop. When she's done, she looks up at me, a mix of defiance and satisfaction in her eyes.
"Fuck," I groan, tucking myself back into my pants. "You're so fucking good, Jazz. So fucking good."
And then I drag her into my lap and fuck her really good.