17. Maxim
MAXIM
Deep in the night, the apartment is wrapped in a heavy, almost sacred silence.
The world would be a lot simpler to live in if life was always like this.
I wake slowly, my body attuned even in sleep to the smallest shifts around me. The first thing I register is the warmth pressed against my side…
Milo is curled up facing me, one hand loosely fisted in the front of my t-shirt, his breathing deep and even.
The faint city glow through the windows paints his cheekbones in soft silver.
His hair is mussed and sticking out at all angles, and there’s a tiny, peaceful smile on his lips even in sleep.
I allow myself a quiet smile, something rare when no one is watching.
I remember falling asleep next to the boy after the bath and bedtime routine. The way he’d melted under my hands in the tub, the soft “Thank you, Daddy” that had slipped from his lips like the most natural thing in the world.
For a man who has spent his life surrounded by violence and calculated risk, these small, tender moments feel almost stolen…
Maybe even dangerous in their sweetness.
Carefully, so as not to wake the sweet boy, I slide out of bed. My bare feet are silent on the hardwood as I walk into the living area. The apartment feels different at this hour… vast, shadowed, entirely mine.
I pour myself a measure of vodka from the decanter on the sideboard, the liquid glinting like liquid ice in the low light. I don’t turn on any lamps. I prefer the darkness when my mind needs to work.
The situation with Lentini sits heavy in my chest like a stone.
I know they will come for Milo if war breaks out. Paolo made that threat explicit. And now I’m almost certain it was one of his men watching us in the park during that kiss.
The timing was too perfect.
The feeling too targeted.
Perhaps it was Lentini’s plan all along to send Milo into my life, let him worm his way under my skin, and then use him as leverage when the real negotiations began. Make the Russian Pakhan fall for the Italian boy, then threaten to take him away unless I bend the knee to the cartel.
The thought makes my grip tighten on the glass until the crystal creaks.
I finish the vodka in one smooth swallow, the burn grounding me. Emotions have no place in strategy, but this is more than strategy now. Milo has become something I didn’t plan for… something I’m not willing to lose.
I pull out my phone and send a quick encrypted message to Kobek:
MAXIM: Arrange a meeting with the senior generals tomorrow morning. First thing. My office. We need to prepare for the possibility of open conflict with the Leones. Bring everything we have on cartel movements and Lentini loyalties.
His reply is fast, even at this hour.
KOBEK: Done. I’ll have them there at 7 a.m. Need anything else?
I type back quickly.
MAXIM: Double the watch on the apartment. And run a deeper check on any Lentini loyalists who might have been unhappy with Paolo’s original truce. I want names by morning.
I set the empty glass down and am about to head back to bed when I feel it… small, warm hands sliding around my waist from behind. I tense instinctively, years of training kicking in, but then I recognize his touch.
Milo.
He’d approached without a sound. Even I hadn’t heard him.
I turn slowly in his arms. He’s wearing one of my oversized t-shirts, the hem brushing his thighs, hair still messy from sleep. His eyes are soft but alert, searching my face.
“You surprised me,” I say quietly, resting my hands on his hips. “Not many people can do that.”
Milo smiles, a little shy, a little proud. “There’s a lot about me that you don’t know yet.” He presses closer, resting his cheek against my bare chest. “Why are you up? Bad dreams?”
I stroke his back slowly. “No dreams. Just life. There’s a lot going on right now.”
“Paolo?” he asks softly, reading me too easily.
I nod. “Among other things. The kiss in the park… I’m certain someone was watching us. And after today’s conversation with your uncle, I believe it was one of his men.”
Milo pulls back slightly to look up at me. “You think he planned all of this? Sending me to you?”
“Possibly,” I admit. “It would be a clever play to make me care, then use you as a bargaining chip or blackmail. But I won’t let that happen.”
Milo bites his lip, conflicted. “I don’t want to be used against you. Or against him. He’s still my uncle, Maxim. Family.”
“I know.” I cup his face gently. “And that makes this difficult for you. But if war comes, I will protect what is mine. And you are mine now, Milo. That doesn’t change, no matter what happens between our families.”
Milo’s eyes soften. He rises onto his toes and kisses me… slow, deep, trusting. When we break apart, he rests his forehead against my chest.
“I trust you,” he whispers. “Even when it’s scary.”
Then, I kiss him.
It’s not gentle. The moment our lips meet, all the tension, the fury at Paolo, the protective fire burning in my chest… it all pours into the kiss.
Milo gasps against my mouth, but he melts instantly, his small hands sliding up my bare chest to clutch my shoulders. I back the boy against the wall beside the sideboard, one hand tangling in his hair, the other gripping his hip hard enough to leave marks.
He whimpers into the kiss, pressing closer, and that sound undoes the last of my restraint.
I lift him effortlessly, his legs wrapping around my waist as I carry him the few steps to the thick living room rug. I lay Milo down on his back, the soft fibers cushioning him as I settle between his thighs. The oversized t-shirt he’s wearing rides up, baring him completely to me.
No bedtime briefs. Good boy.
“Look at you,” I growl, running my hands up his thighs towards his stiff cock. “Already all hard for me. Were you dreaming about Daddy while you slept?”
Milo nods breathlessly, cheeks flushed. “Yes… please, Daddy…”
I push the shirt higher, exposing his chest, and lean down to take one nipple into my mouth, sucking hard.
Milo arches with a cry, fingers threading through my hair.
I bite down gently, then soothe it with my tongue before moving to the other.
My hand slides between his legs, finding his rock-hard cock all swollen and needy to my touch.
I suck on my fingers and then push two inside Milo’s ass slowly but surely and watch in delight as he gasps in pleasure.
“So greedy,” I murmur against his skin. “This tight little ass is already trying to pull me deeper. You want to be fucked, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Milo moans, hips rocking against my hand. “Please fuck me, Daddy. I need you.”
I pull my fingers free and shove my pajama bottoms down just enough to free my cock. I’m rock hard, aching for him. I reach for some lube from the nearby cupboard and quickly spread it thick and plentiful from the bottom of my shaft all the way to my bulbous dick head.
“Are you sure, boy?” I ask, taking Milo’s legs and hooking them back and onto my shoulders.. “There’s no going back once we begin.”
“I’m sure, Daddy,” Milo moans, his eyes wide with desire.
I don’t need to hear any more. line myself up and thrust in deep in one smooth stroke.
Milo cries out, back bowing off the rug. I don’t give him time to adjust—I start fucking him hard, deep, possessive strokes that make his pecs bounce with every impact.
“That’s it,” I growl, thrusting harder. “Take every inch like a good boy. This ass belongs to me. Say it.”
“It’s yours,” he gasps, legs wrapping tighter around me. “My ass is yours. My whole body is yours. All yours, Daddy… oh God…”
I change angles, hitting that spot inside him that makes him see stars. His moans grow louder, more desperate. I can feel him getting close already, his ass clenching around my cock while his own dick strains and slaps around with each movement.
“Not yet,” I command, slowing my thrusts. “You don’t cum until I say. Hold it.”
Milo whines, nails digging into my shoulders, but he obeys. I pull out suddenly, making him cry out at the loss. I flip him onto his hands and knees, yanking his hips up.
“Arch your back,” I order. “Show me that pretty ass.”
He does, trembling. I slap his ass once, hard, then thrust back into him from behind. The new angle is even deeper. I fuck him with long, powerful strokes, one hand fisted in his hair, the other reaching around to pump his cock.
“Please, Daddy…I can’t… I’m so close…”
“Not yet,” I growl, gripping the base of his shaft firmly in warning. “You come when I tell you to. Understand?”
“Yes! Yes, Daddy!”
I keep the boy on the edge for long, torturous minutes, switching positions again, pulling him up so he’s riding me, hands on my chest, my hands guiding his hips. Then back down on his back with his legs over my shoulders.
Every thrust is deliberate. Every command is absolute.
When I finally feel him shaking uncontrollably, I lean down and bite his neck.
“Cum for me. Now.”
Milo screams as the orgasm crashes through him. His ass trembles down around my cock like a vice, pulsing wildly as his cock shoots hard, just like in the interrogation, soaking my body and dripping onto the rug beneath us.
I keep fucking Milo through it, drawing it out until he’s almost unable to handle any more pleasure. Only then do I let myself go, burying myself deep and shooting my seed with a low groan, filling him completely.
We collapse together, breathing hard.
I roll to the side and pull him against my chest, stroking his hair as he trembles through the aftershocks.
“Good boy,” I murmur, kissing his forehead. “Such a perfect boy for Daddy.”
We lie there for a long while, tangled on the rug, the city lights casting soft patterns across our skin. Eventually I stand, scoop him up, and carry him to my bed. I tuck the boy in carefully, pulling the covers up around his shoulders.
Milo looks up at me sleepily. “Aren’t you coming to bed?”
I brush my thumb across his cheek. “The game is afoot now, malysh. I need to stay up and prepare for the meeting with my men in the morning. A meeting that could shape our future… yours and mine.”
He nods, understanding even through his exhaustion. “Be careful.”
“Always.” I kiss him once more, soft and lingering. “Sleep.”
As I walk back to the living area and pour another vodka, my mind is already turning over strategies, contingencies, and the bloody path ahead.
But the memory of Milo’s trust, his pleasure, his soft “Daddy” lingers like a promise, each time I hear it from him making me feel more and more like we could be the real thing together.
I will protect what is mine.
And I don’t care how many Lentini men have to die to make sure of it.