Chapter 16
16
ANTHONY
M y skin vibrates and pricks in frustration.
I haven’t had Tatum in two days. Haven’t touched him, held him, fucked him. He’s been avoiding me, spending all his time with Angel, barely making eye contact with me.
I feel the absence of him, of my obsession, palpably.
It bothers me that he’s angry with me. He has no idea the struggle I went through to make this happen with Angel and Mikhail, the ethical dilemma I contemplated while Tatum slept beside me.
This is my son. I love him and I want him to be happy.
But I also want him safe.
And he’ll be safe with Mikhail. Just like Diablo is with Skylar. Plus, Angel will have Casey with him. He will have someone looking out for him and reporting back to me.
But I know nothing will go wrong. Mikhail is as invested in this as I am. He wants this to work.
After everyone’s left my place—the guards thinning out, Diablo and Skylar heading back to Wales, Angel and Mikhail setting off in his private jet to the East Coast—I’m left alone in this cavernous house. Tatum has made it clear he has no intention of sleeping with me tonight. I found him in Angel’s room, glowering at me as he tucked himself under the covers.
I was not invited in.
So, I moved to my bedroom without a fight, showered and slid naked beneath my covers. I have no one to spend time with now.
I should call Bane and have him come up here to keep me company, but the thought of talking with him after the long day I’ve just had sounds miserable.
I could search out Sebastian and Matty, but both retired to their room earlier, a mischievous gleam in their eyes. I know what they’ll be up to when the door finally shuts.
I fall against my pillow and stare up at the ceiling, my thoughts swirling obsessively.
Things were so much easier with Laura. Even when Luca entered the equation, it was far less complicated than with Tatum.
He’s the single most infuriating person I’ve ever met. And yet, he sets my entire soul on fire.
I burn for him.
For the first time since Laura died, I want to pull out my camera and photograph him. I want to watch as his image appears on the photographic paper, inch by inch. That playful glint in his eye, the set of his shoulders, those plump, kissable lips.
My eyes flutter closed, and I force myself to drift off, imagining it, inhaling and exhaling deeply, my thoughts moving from my late wife to Tatum.
Tatum.
Even in my dreams he haunts me, consumes me. I can hear his voice, smell his scent, feel the way he moves across my skin as he straddles me, his fingers threading with mine. I arch up and let him have me, missing his touch the longer he lingers in my dreams.
My eyelids flutter open when I hear my name.
Anthony.
As I slowly wake, I see the object of all my obsession hovering over me, his hair falling into his face, his eyes sparkling with something mischievous.
My hands reach to touch him, but I suddenly realize that I can’t move. My wrists have been handcuffed to the bedpost.
I yank at them, my eyes widening. Tatum just tuts at me, like I’m some spoiled child.
“Now, now, Anthony. No need to get so feisty. I got these handcuffs from Bane. Bomb proof, he said.” He runs his hands down my skin, his nails rough against my heaving chest.
“Let me go, Tatum,” I grind out, my voice rough and angry. He tied me up. That little shit tied me up while I was sleeping and subconsciously, I let him.
I probably even helped him, I was so desperate to have him again.
He taps his lips with a finger. “Um. No. Not happening.”
He tweaks my nipple roughly and my nostrils flare.
“Tatum, you have no idea what you’re doing,” I warn, my anger building, and yet that switch has flipped and I feel my cock perk up despite it all.
“But I really do know. I have so many ideas, Anthony. I’m so mad at you. I have sat for two days thinking up ways to make you pay.”
I huff and yank on my restraints once more, but they don’t budge. And if what he’s said is true, then they won’t. Bane has a knack for collecting impenetrable things.
Handcuffs would be one of them.
I crane my head to the right and see the pink fuzzy fabric lining the insides of the metal cuffs and give in to a small, aggravated laugh.
Of course he gave Tatum these ones. The two of them probably conspired at the wedding. I saw them hunched over and talking lowly. I barely stopped myself from walking up to the two of them and yanking Tatum away. I know Bane has an unhealthy obsession with him.
Not that mine is healthy, but still. He’s mine.
I found him first.
Mine .
“We’ve discussed this,” I say as Tatum tweaks my nipple again, harder this time, making me hiss. “But you didn’t get your way, so now you’re acting out.”
Tatum’s eyes flash and then he reaches for something behind him. He pulls out a silk cloth and waggles it in front of my face.
“I think I may have to gag you, Mr. Costello. I don’t want you to speak. At all. Unless it’s to beg me. I’m honestly just here to make you suffer.”
My cheeks heat when I see the lube in his hand and a small dildo in the other.
That little shit is going to fuck me while I’m tied up and possibly gagged. My admiration for him grows, and I feel my cock jerk between my legs. I like it when he takes charge. Love the fierceness in his gaze.
It makes me want him all the more.
My little kitten has claws.
“Just know this, Tatum,” I bite out, my chest heaving as he straddles my thighs and pours lube onto my hard length. “When I’m free of these restraints, you will regret this.”
“Oh, how scary,” he teases and then grabs on to my cock roughly, making my breath come out in a hiss. Tatum is stronger than he looks. “I’m so worried.”
He twists his hand up my dick and then back down, his touch setting off an inferno within me. It’s been two days of nothing. Of course my body is responding.
And my heart. He’s unstoppable in this moment.
I like seeing his claws, seeing him take what he wants.
His hand slides down to my balls and tugs on them roughly, making me grunt, my thighs falling open a little more. I should make him work for this. I should make him fucking work for the things he wants. Nothing in life is free.
My legs suddenly snap closed, and I hold his hand tightly between my thighs. He tries to wrench it free, but I hold him there for a few tense seconds.
His eyes flash up to meet mine, and he shifts up my body, his face suddenly hovering over my own.
“You can’t just let me win, can you?”
“Never,” I say.
His lips brush against my mouth, and my entire body tenses up at the sensation. His mouth lowers further and further until I can taste him, can feel his very essence being breathed into me.
I part my lips and lean up, capturing his mouth with my own, thrusting my tongue into him, tangling with his for just a second before he pulls away. He’s panting now, his breathing labored.
“I will tie your legs down. Let me go. Bane gave me rope. Don’t make me resort to that.”
I huff and set my head back on the pillow, letting out a deep exhale. My legs spread slightly and his hand slips free.
He wets his lips, his eyes sliding down to my mouth again and then he’s on me once more, his hands in my hair as he attacks my mouth. Our tongues thrust together dangerously as we feast. His little mewls set me ablaze, and I feel my cock leaking against my stomach as he continues to kiss me and rut against me. He carries on until we’re both breathless, until the entire room spins and wobbles.
And it’s only then that he finally breaks free and sits up, slightly dazed.
“Fuck you, Anthony. I had a plan.”
I let out a dark chuckle, my lips swollen from his mouth.
“Get back to it then, my little light.”
His eyes flick to mine and he nods, looking determined once more.
“Just so you know, this is punishment for marrying off your son and for not changing your mind about it.”
“I’ve had far worse,” I say and then wet my lips. “Do what you want.”
He hesitates for a moment and then gets to work.
He squirts more lube onto my cock, working his hand up and down my shaft until I start to tremble. I wish I could control it, could shut myself down, but I can’t. Not with him. Never with him. He lights something up within me, an ember fanned into an inferno.
“You know, Tatum,” I breathe as his eyes flash from my cock to meet my stare. “The moment I met you, you crawled under my skin.” His cheeks flush and his movements stutter. “I don’t truly want you mad at me.”
“But I am mad. So very mad,” he replies, but his tone isn’t convincing. It’s wavering. He’s breaking, falling apart at the seams.
“Let me go and let me fuck you. It’s what you need. I can make this all better.”
He frowns and then slaps my dick. Hard.
I let out a chuckle, and he narrows his gaze at me.
“I see what you’re trying to do, Mr. Costello. And it won’t work. I won’t let you go until you beg. For real.”
“I never beg.”
“But for me you will.”
I grin at his fierceness as he pours more lube onto his hand, skimming his fingers down my taint. My breath catches as he grabs my leg and places it over his shoulder, exposing me to him.
His eyes meet mine as he skims one finger down my crack, swirling around my hole.
My virgin hole.
I’ve never been fucked there before.
“ I will be fucking you tonight. I’ll sit on your big dick, but I’ll be the one in charge, Mr. Costello. Not you. Not this time.”
He pushes against my hole gently, and I feel it open for him. He continues to work his finger into me, and I find myself enjoying the look of concentration on his face more than the actual sensation of being penetrated.
“Do you like it?” he asks, and I lift my head slightly, widening my legs.
“I don’t dislike it.”
He smiles down at me and then frowns once more, trying to maintain the act of being stern. His finger slips all the way in, knuckle deep and my rim flexes against him.
“Hm. Interesting,” I say, and he laughs lowly.
“Well, yeah, let me find your prostate and then we’ll see what you think.”
Suddenly, I feel him push against a part of me and my nostrils flare. So this is what it feels like, I think as I bite down on my lip. Hard.
“Yes, that’s it,” Tatum says and then pushes on it again.
My head snaps off the pillow, my arms pulling on my restraints. Suddenly, I’m not feeling in control, suddenly it’s slipping through my fingers.
I gasp as he continues to toy with me.
“Yes. Yes . Do you like it?”
I swallow roughly, my mind spinning. Do I like it? I think so, but do I like feeling this out of control? No. But then again, it’s Tatum. He has a way of making everything flip sideways.
“Maybe you’ll like this then,” he adds before leaning down and sucking my cock into his mouth. I bite back a groan, my hips arching up into his mouth, letting my willpower slowly be pushed aside.
I can give him this, I acquiesce. I can let him feel powerful for a moment.
My fingers flex into fists as his mouth slicks up and down my cock, his finger pressing against my prostate with agonizing precision. I find myself grunting with each downward suck and each soft press of him against me until I’m whispering his name.
Tatum pops off my cock suddenly, his eyes meeting mine.
“Yes? Are you ready to beg?” he asks, his lips swollen, his chin wet with spit. I can see his cock hard and pressed out from his body. He’s enjoying this just as much as me. This may be my punishment, but both of us are savoring it.
Tatum’s finger gently leaves me and he grabs on to the small dildo with a flared base. He wets it with his mouth first, giving me a show, and then slicks it with lube before pushing it slowly inside of me. I let out a slow exhale at the intrusion before he turns it on.
“Fuck,” I bite out, lifting my back off the bed, the vibration making me start to sweat.
“You like that?” he asks, and I grunt.
I don’t know what I like anymore. I don’t know anything. Just that he’s here.
He’s here and he’s touching me. Finally.
Tatum suddenly lunges for me, his mouth meeting mine in a frantic filthy kiss.
“Oh god, you’re so hot. So hot like this. I’m supposed to be mad, but all I am is horny.”
I grunt my approval. “Good. Now sit on my dick. Put us both out of our misery.”
He moans, kissing me fiercely, reaching for the lube, his lips never leaving mine. I know he’s working himself open as he straddles my hips, his cock brushing against mine, leaking onto my stomach.
“But you have to beg first. Please beg.”
I fist my hands and let him have this, just this once.
“Please, my little light. Please .”
And then he’s sitting back, his lips leaving mine for just a moment as he reaches back and places me at his entrance.
“Oh, fuck yes. I win. Yes, yes . Ready?” he asks, and I’m nearly mindless with lust.
I manage a small nod as he sinks down on me, taking the entirety of me in one downward thrust.
I groan as his lips slam into mine once more, our tongues warring as he starts to ride me, short pumps up and down my cock, making my entire body tremble. The sensation of something vibrating against my prostate and the tight vise-like grip his ass has on my cock is making my balls draw up.
When I can’t take his small, frantic movements, needing more, I bend my knees and pound into him, making him cry out. He comes off my mouth with a groan, arching back, his cock slapping his stomach as I fuck into him. He holds on to me, clawing at my chest as I take what I want. What I need. I may be tied up, but I’m in control now.
I’m taking it. I’m taking him .
Tatum is murmuring incoherently under his breath, my name intermingled on his tongue like a prayer. His hair is wild, his cheeks red, his cock dribbling profusely.
“More. More. More !” he nearly screams and then starts to shake. I watch as he reaches down and grabs on to his dick, stroking it furiously before he explodes, his cock erupting across my chest. His hole tightens around me and my vision whites out as my release pulses into him, painting his insides with the very essence of me.
I bite my lip so hard it bleeds, and Tatum continues to fuck onto me until I’m oversensitive and hissing. It’s then that he finally comes to a stop, his entire body shaking, the only sound in the room the vibrating dildo in my ass and our heavy breathing.
“Oh my god,” he gasps as he reaches back with a trembling hand and turns off the dildo, pulling it out of my hole and tossing it aside.
“Uncuff me,” I grunt, wanting to hold him and then wanting to fuck him again.
Worship him.
He fumbles for the key and leans forward. I nip at the skin of his chest until my hands are finally free to touch him. I grab his back and roll him beneath me, my legs straddling his now.
“Are you still mad?” I ask, my nose running up his cheek. He smells like me. Like us.
“No. Honestly, I can’t even think right now…”
I lean down and kiss him softly before falling to his side and pulling him into my chest.
“Good. Next time we discuss this like men.”
“Hm. Maybe. I’m only twenty-one, Anthony. Barely a man.”
I huff out a laugh at that. He is young, but still. He’s mine. Age is only a number.
“I know you’re still upset, but I did what I thought was best. It wasn’t easy, but it had to be done. If there was any other way, I would have made it happen.”
“Yeah, okay,” he says softly and nuzzles back into me.
“And Tatum. When you wake up, and when you’re rested, this hole…it’s mine.”
I wake him up with a finger in his hole, stretching him open for me, feeling the leftover cum and lube from earlier. Tatum presses against my body, his back still to my chest, his legs parted slightly to give me better access.
I’m going to fuck him awake. And then fuck him again later on today.
Going to fuck him every chance I get.
“Anthony,” he groans, his voice still raspy with sleep.
I click the camera button as I press two fingers inside of him, stretching him open. He’s still loose from earlier, and yet I want to tease him like he teased me last night. I want him whining and begging for it. For me.
“Good morning, my little light,” I say softly, pressing my nose into the crook of his neck and inhaling, the camera beside me, waiting to be used. I’m going to document this. The way he pants and moans for me, the curves of his body.
“Are you taking pictures of me?” he asks, his voice rough from sleep.
“Hm, I am.”
“Good. Good,” he says and then gasps when I find his prostate and press against it. He stretches his legs open further and starts to arch his hips back, wanting more, wanting it deeper.
“Not yet,” I whisper, biting down on his skin and sucking.
He groans, his voice low and broken. “Please. Please.”
“So greedy,” I reply as I press three fingers into him, twisting my wrist and spreading them apart, making him arch back into me.
“More. More,” he pleads as he gasps my name. The way he looks, the pull of his lips, the arch of his hips. I grab the camera again and snap some more photos, excited for the first time in two decades to develop these, to see him appear before by eyes like magic.
I taunt him for several more minutes until he’s reaching for his cock and stroking it furiously.
“Not yet,” I tell him, pulling my fingers from him and wetting my cock with lube. I flip him onto his stomach and settle between his legs, pushing them further apart until they’re stretched impossibly wide, and then I pull his cheeks apart. I stare at his quivering hole, open, puffy, and red.
I snap a few pictures, one of my hand on his ass, the other of his spread hole, wet and glistening.
I squirt more lube down his crack and work it into him with the tip of my cock, making him groan into the pillow, his fingers grasping the sheets near his head. I watch the flush creep up his back and down his neck in the morning light, and I think that he’s absolutely perfect before sliding into him slowly.
His head comes off the pillow and he arches his back as I bottom out, filling him completely.
“Oh fuck,” he moans as I grind into him, opening him up with my dick. My hands are on either side of his head as I drag out of him and then push back inside. A slow, good-morning fuck. I should take a picture of this, a snapshot to remember it by, but right now, I just want to experience it.
Tatum is writhing beneath me, humping into the mattress, trying to find relief that way. But he won’t get it. Not yet.
I keep my pace slow, agonizing, until he’s nearly sobbing, his eyes leaking profusely.
“It’s too much,” he says. “I need more. Please!”
I lean down and bracket him completely, my body pressed against his. He fits perfectly against me.
“Who do you belong to?” I ask, and he murmurs my name. Anthony . You. A prayer, a plea.
“Good boy,” I say and then lift off him, shift his hips up, and fuck into him.
It’s a slap of skin on skin, our balls hitting each other’s as I impale him over and over. Tatum is clutching a pillow for dear life, his mouth open in a silent scream. My fingers dig into his hips, leaving marks, my fingerprints. He will look at himself later and see them, remember this, remember me.
I lift him a little higher, changing the angle, his knees nearly off the bed.
“Yes! Fuck yes!” he cries out as I use his hole, stuffing it full only to pull back out and slam in again. Tatum reaches down and cups his cock, his arm working quickly, his body shaking beneath me.
I feel the moment he comes, his body tensing, his hole clenching my cock almost painfully. I grunt as my movements stutter and then my entire body tightens and I feel my cock pump him full. I continue to rock into him, the squelch of my release filling him, making my softening cock hard once more.
I want to keep him full of my cum all day. I want him walking around with it sliding out of him, smelling of me.
I set him down, pulling out of him gently.
He falls to the sheets and groans, his body trembling in the aftershocks of his orgasm.
I stare down at him, his flushed skin, his damp hair.
My hands reach for his red ass cheeks and I spread them apart, looking at my release trickling out of him.
My finger trails up his taint and I push it back inside.
“Anthony, my god,” he moans as I continue to push my cum back into him. “It can’t stay in there forever.”
“Perhaps I should buy you a plug and make sure it does.”
He lets out another groan and then turns around, staring up at me, his chest smeared with his release.
“Let me get this on film,” I say, grabbing my camera and pushing his legs up, exposing his dripping hole to the lens. I snap in rapid succession and then let the camera fall to the side.
As I do, his hands drag up my thighs and cup my dick gently.
“I can’t believe you’re fucking me now. I’ve had dreams of this. So many dreams.”
He’s still half asleep, half dazed. I lean down and brush a hand across his cheek.
“It’s not a dream anymore, Tatum. This is your life now.”
He gives me a wobbly smile and then throws an arm across his eyes.
“Fine, I accept. Now draw me a bath, Mr. Mob Boss Man. I want you to wash me and then fuck me in the tub. Maybe take some more pictures of me, of us together.”
My dick is fully hard now, imagining it.
“As you wish,” I say softly and then push up, leaving him in my bed to turn on the water and warm the tub.
And I do wash him clean before fucking him, our bodies moving so frantically that the water splashes over the rim and onto the floor.
Neither of us gets out for a long while after, his head on my shoulder, his legs wrapped around me. And I’m loath to let him go.
I’m never letting him go.
We eventually make our way downstairs to the kitchen, Tatum leaning against me, his legs slightly bowed and wobbly from the earlier fucking I gave him.
It makes me incredibly proud, more proud than most things I’ve accomplished in my life. I’ve built empires, taken down entire crime families, and yet seeing Tatum satisfied like this takes it to another level.
The way my chest puffs out and my fingers tighten around him.
I want to mark him, make sure everyone knows he’s mine.
No one will touch him now.
Not a fucking soul or I will rip them apart, bit by bit.
“Oh, good morning,” Matty says, sipping a cup of tea. Agatha is bustling around the kitchen making breakfast, her grin widening when she sees who I’m with. Of course, he’s even endeared himself to her. He seems to have done the same with everyone in my employ.
I nod at Matty, taking in his colorful Disneyland shirt with his name scrawled prettily on the bottom. I turn my gaze to a grumpy Sebastian, who is wearing a matching one and my lips twitch. He looks ridiculous. Who would’ve thought that the infamous Sebastian LeClerc would voluntarily wear Disney merchandise?
“I like your shirt,” I say to him, and he glowers at me.
“Not a fucking word.”
“Oh, but you look adorable,” Matty coos, leaning into his husband and nuzzling into his neck. “Right, Tatum?”
Tatum grins widely. “He does. Like a happy little cherub.”
Sebastian scoffs, looking ready to murder someone. I can understand the predicament he’s in. If Tatum asked me to wear that godforsaken shirt, I’d do it, all while plotting the demise of everyone around me.
“So, you’re off to Disneyland today, I take it?” I ask, and Matty bounces in his seat.
“We are. I am so excited!” My eyes swivel down to his bright shoes and pants, a colorful rainbow in the sea of gloom that is his husband.
“How thrilling,” I say, and Tatum giggles.
“I’m sorry to laugh,” he says. “But I can’t imagine your husband at Disneyland.”
“I know. He’s so grumpy about it. Threatened to murder the gate attendants and Mr. Disney himself, but I told him absolutely not. No way is he doing that. Besides, Walt died a long time ago. He’s not a time traveler.”
Sebastian grumbles under his breath and takes a long sip of his tea. “The things I do for you.”
Matty grins up at him and presses a kiss to his cheek. “The things you do to me.”
Sebastian growls lowly as I pull Tatum onto my lap at the table just as Agatha sets two plates before us. Eggs, bacon, and a waffle.
Tatum groans when he sees it and digs in, gulping it down as if he hasn’t been fed in a month.
“Sorry, Anthony wore me out last night,” he explains around a mouthful of food.
Matty blushes. “I know how it is.”
I sip at my coffee and listen as Matty and Tatum chatter on about Disneyland and the rides they’re going on. Sebastian has reserved a few nights at the Disneyland hotel, to enjoy not only the parks but the cities around it.
“I’ve always wanted to explore California. And it’s so big,” Matty says, and I eye Sebastian, who meets my stare with an arched eyebrow.
“It is. It’s bigger than most people think,” Tatum agrees as he shifts on my legs. His ass must be sore, and yet he doesn’t move from my lap. Perhaps I didn’t fuck him hard enough. Perhaps next time I should let loose completely.
“You should definitely do a trip up north as well,” Tatum adds. “There’s so much to see. Napa, Sanoma, San Francisco…”
“Oh, we will. We may extend our stay and make a month out of it.”
“If Sebastian survives Disneyland, that is,” I say, and Sebastian’s mouth moves into a frown.
“If I could die, I would attempt it.”
Matty rolls his eyes and nudges his husband. “Honestly, you are ridiculous.”
Tatum snorts and then scrapes at his plate, licking his fork before setting it down and leaning back against me, patting at his stomach.
“Wow, that was really good,” he says. “I could nap after that, Agatha.”
She waves him off with a tut, continuing to work. That woman never stops. I should give her a raise, or a vacation. Not that she’d take it. She’s a machine.
“You slept plenty last night,” I murmur into Tatum’s ear and slide my hand up his shirt. His skin is warm and soft, his heart thrumming perfectly beneath my palm.
“I have it documented.”
“You took pictures while I slept?”
“Mhm.”
My hands skim over his puckered nipples, plucking at them lightly. I can’t stop touching him.
“What do you have planned today?” Matty asks us, and before Tatum can open his mouth to answer, I chime in.
“I plan on fucking him a few more times.”
Tatum’s mouth falls open and his skin blossoms into a pretty pink.
“Oh my god, Anthony.”
Sebastian’s lips twitch. “Sounds like a much better time than Disneyland.”
“Agreed,” I say, and Tatum rolls his eyes, wiggling around on my lap and making my dick hard. Seems the switch has ceased to exist. Seems Tatum set it on fire and it crumbled to ashes before being blown to the four corners of the earth.
Fuck. Me.
Matty and Sebastian finish breakfast before setting off for their little California adventure, and Tatum wanders off with Teddy while I get ready for the day. I have a shit-ton of meetings, and yet all I want to do is bend Tatum over my desk and fuck him again, to sink my cock into that wet, tight heat and lose myself for a few moments.
Although, perhaps I should give him a small break , I think as I settle down into my leather chair in my office and pull up my agenda for the day.
Hm. Just a small break to take care of business, to follow up on what the Fallen Aces have been up to and where they’ve been. Last I heard, they were quiet, far too quiet, if you ask me. I don’t like this, not at all.
It means they have something up their sleeves. Then again, their new leader, Douglas, is relatively unknown to me. I don’t understand how he operates. All I do know is that he’s sloppy, that despite him trying to outmaneuver me, he’s leaving a trail of crumbs that only implicate him in his crimes.
These are things I’ve been keeping track of.
These are the things that will eventually bring them down. That or death.
I pull out my phone and stab at my contact in the FBI. Yes, I’ll take care of this first and then Tatum’s mine again.