Chapter 32
Scarlett
God. The sight of Ash, with the hood of his sweatshirt pushed back, mouth doing unspeakable things, that really pushes me over the edge.
Widow is behind me, pushing the head of his dick inside my waaaay sore pussy, grunting in satisfaction.
The instinct inside him is fierce and protective, his natural urge to right wrongs and shield the weak. He can’t help himself.
King of Prescott, mm. That’s what I want to say, a bunch of sexy, sweet shit to reward Widow for his violent loyalty and highbrow morality. Can’t do that here. This is business. Strictly business.
Adrenaline rush. Big, huge adrenaline rush. I’m getting more and more addicted. The bigger the risk, the happier I am. This is terrible. I can’t ever allow myself to find a permanent place in the underground.
I’d be too good at it.
Alexei makes a pleasured sound, letting his head fall back and his eyes go hooded. He’s watching me. Not overtly though. No, he’s too smart to make a mistake like that. No doubt that he’s enjoying the wet, sticky punch of Widow’s dick in my swollen cunt.
If Alexei doesn’t orgasm, we’re in trouble here.
It’s working through. Alexei is pumping his hips, bracing Ash’s head with his hands.
He’s not nice or gentle, not at all. He takes Ash’s mouth like he does this all the time, no big thing.
Ash has one hand on the base of Alexei’s cock, but that doesn’t last. Alexei reaches down, uncurls the other boy’s fingers, and pushes them away like they’re offensive.
This time, when he grabs Ash by the back of the head and starts to fuck, it’s punishing.
Ash is coughing, putting his palms on Alexei’s pelvis for a bit of resistance. My sweet boy’s body is vibrating with that same frequency of violence and recklessness he displayed back at the mayor’s mansion. He is about to lose his shit here.
“Suck him harder for me, baby. Make it good,” I grunt as Widow slams me into the desk, sending letters fluttering to the floor around us. They’re all written in Russian, penned by someone who looks like they’ve taken years of calligraphy. Beautiful. Alexei’s letters? His father’s letters?
Widow shoves in deep, wrapping his hand in my hair and yanking my head back. He’s arranging my body into something beautiful and deranged, helping me put the show on for Alexei. Poor Ash can’t see much, his eyes straining to catch sight of me and Widow on the edge of the room.
He can hear us though. He can smell us.
Bohnes is so careful with that phone, walking around the room and filming everything except for me and Widow. His eyes wander though, taking me in with a look that promises he’s going to get me later. Soon as we’re done here. I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow, damn it.
All the violence coiling inside of Widow—necessary violence—and all the rage—necessary rage—spin together into one of the quickest, hottest fucks I’ve ever had in my entire life.
My man is righteously furious over what’s happening, making all sorts of noble vows inside that pretty head of his.
See? He’s going to be Ash’s umbrella against the world.
I’m always right. Another superpower, my friends.
I’m railed against the wood until Widow’s body gives up the fight.
He drags his dick out of me, fists it, and then shoots his load all over my ass for Alexei to see.
I’m pulled away from the desk by my hips and turned around, cum-covered butt facing the other boys.
I’m slapped again, spattering seed, and then Widow is pulling my cheeks apart and showing off my pulsing pink heat like a prize.
Alexei’s balls pull up nice and tight as he draws out of Ash’s mouth, giving him a chance to breathe before the finale.
Ash clings to Alexei’s pelvis in order to stay upright, his cheeks red, and his breath frantic and wheezy.
Those dark eyes of his have angry tears clinging to the too-long lashes as he swallows repeatedly, trying to soothe his aching throat.
Someone yawns. Burt. Ugh. I’m glad I can’t see his smug cigar-smoking face on the other side of the screen.
Alexei ignores him, using his leather glove to caress Ash’s face. There’s sympathy and understanding in that touch and an expression on the Borisov boy’s face that could be attributed to love. I’m pretty sure it’s camaraderie and apology, but it’s genuine and deep and relatable.
I’m also panting, clinging to Widow and watching over my shoulder. Adrian’s release drips down my thighs, pearly and pretty in the dim gray light filtering around the edges of the plaid drapes.
“Are you going to behave for me?” Alexei asks mildly, tickling his fingers under Ash’s chin. Ash nods, resisting the urge to pull away. “And when I murder your father, what are you going to say?”
“Thank you, sir.” Ash’s voice is frantic now, like shattered glass. Not because of the actual act but because he’s worried about what’s going to come after. He still believes they’re going to kill him after he takes a load down the throat.
“That’s right. Your only duty is to please me, isn’t it?
” Alexei jerks Ash’s dark hair with a gloved hand, using the other to swipe the wet head of his cock over Ash’s pink lips.
Ash licks him eagerly, like he’s desperate to have dick in his mouth.
He’s buying himself time before he loses the ability to breathe again. “Tell me how much you love me, rodnoy.”
Rodnoy. Is that like the man version of the word Alexei used on me? Does he mean that or is it all for show?
Alexei whips his glove off, revealing his wedding ring tattoo. He reaches across to take Ash’s left hand, peeling his fingers away from his own hip. They curl their hands together, melding their matching ink into one. Alexei leans down, pressing soft kisses all over Ash’s knuckles.
“I would kill for you; I would die for you,” Ash murmurs quickly, shaking, sweat pouring down the sides of his handsome face. “Your fate is my fate, love.”
Alexei’s whip-sharp mouth twists into a demeaning little aristocrat’s smile.
He drops Ash’s hand, tightens that hold on Ash’s hair, and shoves his dick back in the other man’s mouth.
I turn around, swiping my fingers through my wet heat, smearing Widow’s cum all over the place as he kisses and sucks on my neck, grabbing at me possessively.
He’s calmed down—a little.
Alexei’s balls draw up again and he lets his head fall back, exposing the pale line of his throat.
With his blond hair glittering and his leather glove twisted in Ash’s silky raven locks, it could very well be one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen.
I’m not supposed to be enjoying this. I’m such a heathen.
I walk up just before Alexei finishes, and I grab the camera from Bohnes.
There’s a jolt in Alexei when I stroke my finger across his lower abs, focusing the camera on his face before swinging it back down.
There’s an expression on Ash’s face that tells me Alexei is getting the job done.
My mob prince spasms and clutches at Ash, pumping into his mouth until he’s blown his entire load.
Before anything else can happen, I snag Ash’s face in my nails and jerk it toward the phone screen. Alexei’s cock bobs free, seed still dripping from the twitching tip.
“Open up,” I command, and Ash’s lips part, showing off his tongue.
He hasn’t, uh, spit or swallowed yet. It’s lewd.
It’s awful. I can see Alexei recoil as Ash is, once again, humiliated because of Aspen and Jonas and their stupid decisions.
Why start a war with the mob? What idiots.
“We’re done. We did what you asked, Burt, and that’s enough.
We’ll make the payment. See you at the—”
“No.” Burt is very unhappy with me. I see it suddenly in the glint of his eyes. If I mess this up, I’ll kill all four of these men alongside me. If I die, they die. They’ll go absolutely batshit if I’m not around. I’ve never had to be more careful in all my life.
I don’t say anything. I wait. I let Burt study the scene in front of him.
Ash, on his knees at the edge of the bed, forcefully holding his mouth shut. His cheeks flame. He’s rubbing at his forearm, making his skin bleed. But his eyes. They’re defiant. He still hasn’t spit or swallowed.
He knows better.
Widow is absolutely panicked. This might be harder on him than it is on Ash and Alexei. Bohnes is still totally fine though. I find comfort in that. Not just fine, pleased.
“Swallow it.” Burt is so fucking cold. I feel the weight of the mob men that surround this building. My boys and I are great. We’re badass, but as I said before: we’re not gods. I have to be realistic here.
Us five versus the entire Russian mob? Not fantastic odds, baby.
“No.” This is Alexei, cock still exposed, carefully plucking the contaminated leather gloves from his fingers.
He’s just as cold as Burt. His pale green eyes are wild and violent and maybe, just maybe Burt sees something in there that says possible future Boss of the Borisovs.
“As with some women, some men do not prefer to swallow. I will not ask the man I love to do something he does not like because you have a fetish for your own flesh-and-blood.”
Burt almost smiles at that.
“You tried that one already, nephew.” Burt nods with his chin in Ash’s direction. “Give yourself a few minutes to recover and then I want to see you top him.” The man leans back in his chair, and I watch Alexei lose all of those strands he so carefully tried to roll up.
He steps toward the camera in my hand with that marionette ease of his. Leaner than Bohnes or Widow, but strong.