19. Maxim
MAXIM
Iam impressed.
Milo’s intervention in the meeting took real guts.
Standing up in a room full of hardened Bratva generals, some of whom have been in this life longer than he has been alive, and offering real intelligence despite their obvious disapproval, shows intelligence, resilience, and a quiet kind of courage I have not fully credited him with until this moment.
The boy didn’t flinch when the grumbling started. He looked straight at me and spoke clearly. That showed poise, and a lot of it.
And now, with the office door locked and the rom ours, I intend to show him exactly how much that means to me…
“Strip,” I order, voice low and rough.
Milo obeys without hesitation, peeling off his sweater and jeans, then his panties.
I drink in the sight of him… and I have to admit I could get used to seeing him in these ultra feminine panties he likes. There’s something about them on his body that just does something to me…
And that’s an understatement. Milo’s body is somehow both innocent and seductive. I remove my own clothes quickly, folding them neatly over a chair. My cock is already hard, thick and heavy with lust.
I grip his waist and lift him effortlessly, turning him upside down in a standing 69 position. Milo gasps, his thighs clamping around my head as I hold him securely, his mouth level with my cock.
“Suck me while I taste you,” I command. “I want to hear you gag.”
He moans as I bury my face between his thighs, licking and then swallowing his whole cock. His tongue swirls around the head of my cock too before he takes me into his mouth, sucking eagerly.
The position is intense… his weight balanced perfectly in my arms, his moans vibrating around my shaft as I devour his girth.
I suck the base hard, then fuck him with my tongue, tasting every drop of his arousal.
Milo whimpers and takes me deeper, gagging as I hit the back of his throat, but he does not pull away.
“Good boy,” I growl against the tip of his cock. “Take Daddy’s meat like that. Just… like… that.”
Milo’s legs start to tremble. I can feel him getting close already. I double my efforts, sucking and licking until he cums with a muffled cry around my cock, his thighs squeezing my head s he shoots waves of hot, salty cum into my mouth. I hold the boy through it, licking him gently as he shudders.
I lower him carefully to the floor, then bend him over the meeting table, his chest pressed against the polished wood, ass raised perfectly for me. He looks back over his shoulder, eyes dark with lust.
“Please, Daddy… I want your cock in my ass. I need it. I want you to own me all over again.”
The words send a fresh surge of blood to my already aching cock. I grab a small bottle of lube from the side drawer and coat myself generously. I press the head against his tight little hole, rubbing it teasingly.
“Beg for it,” I say.
“Please fuck my ass, Daddy,” he whimpers. “I need it. I need you to own every part of me. Stretch me, fuck me so hard that I have no option but to scream.”
I push forward slowly, watching his tight ring stretch around my thick cock. Milo moans loudly, pushing back against me. I grip his hips and sink in deeper, inch by inch, until I am buried to the hilt.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” I groan. “Such a good boy taking Daddy’s cock in your ass again.”
I start thrusting… slow at first, then harder, deeper. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room. Milo is moaning continuously, pushing back to meet every thrust. I reach around and rub his cock, making it hard all over again.
“Cum for me once more,” I growl. “Cum with my cock deep in your ass.”
We climax together: hard, intense, perfect. I bury myself to the hilt as I shoot, flooding him with hot pulses.
Milo screams, his body shaking violently as his rapid-fire second orgasm rips through him.
I stay buried deep inside him, leaning down to bite the junction of his neck and shoulder. He cries out again, another smaller G-spot orgasm pulsing around my cock at the sharp sensation and my words.
“You are fully mine now,” I rasp against his skin. “Every part of you. Body. Heart. Soul. Mine.”
Milo whimpers, trembling through the aftershocks. I stay inside him for a long moment, kissing the bite mark gently, stroking his back.
When I finally pull out, I turn him around and lift him onto the table, kissing him deeply. We stay like that for a while, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in.
“Things might be about to get very dangerous,” I say quietly. “But we will come out on top. Together.”
Milo nods, eyes shining with trust. “Together.”
I hold him close, already thinking about the war ahead, but for this moment, our connection is the whole world.
The SUV is parked in the shadows across the street from a known Lentini hotspot: a dimly lit bar in the old industrial district that has long served as neutral ground for low-level meetings and information trading.
Michael sits in the driver’s seat beside me, his expression studious as always.
We both watch the entrance through the tinted windows. The engine is off, but the interior remains warm enough. We have been here for nearly two hours, and the night has grown colder and quieter around us.
Kobek and Milo are already on their way upstate, following the faint trail he gave us about his uncle’s secret coastal property.
I sent four trusted men with them for protection.
Part of me still feels uneasy letting him go, but he insisted he might recognize the area, and Kobek is the best man for the job.
Still, the worry gnaws at me.
Michael breaks the silence first, his voice low. “You absolutely certain Milo can be trusted? I mean no disrespect. I like him. But he is a Lentini, Maxim. Blood runs deep in families like theirs. Like it does in ours.”
I keep my eyes on the bar entrance. “I’m as sure as I can be.
He stood up in front of my generals and gave us real intelligence.
That took courage. And there is something else.
” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “I want you to do a deep dive. Find out exactly how Milo’s father died.
Not the official story. The real one. Every detail.
Who pulled the trigger, who ordered it, who benefited. ”
Michael nods without hesitation. “I’ll get on it first thing tomorrow. You think there is more to it?”
“I think there always is,” I reply. “And if Paolo had a hand in it, or used it to consolidate power, I need to know.”
The silence returns for a moment. Then Michael chuckles softly. “You remember our first meeting? I was fresh out of Yale, all set on a shiny corporate legal career. Nice suits, big bonuses, weekends in the Hamptons. Then I met you in that backroom poker game and everything changed.”
I allow myself a small smile. “You were cocky. Thought you could outmaneuver everyone at the table.”
“And you cleaned me out in forty minutes,” Michael says, grinning. “Then offered me a job instead of letting me walk away broke. Best decision I ever made.”
I glance at him. “Do you ever regret it? Leaving that straight path?”
“Never,” he says without hesitation. “This life suits me. The money, the power, the loyalty… it is real. Raw. I would rather stand beside a man I respect than chase paper in some glass tower.”
I nod, staring out at the bar again. “Since growing close to Milo, I have wondered what a different life might look like. Domestic. Quieter. But my feeling is still that this is where I belong. This is the life for me.”
Michael looks over, studying me for a moment. “I am pleased for you, truly. Having a boy like him in your life… I think it will only make you a better Pakhan. You have always been strong. Now you have something worth protecting. That sharpens a man.”
We exchange a look of mutual respect, the kind that only comes after years of shared battles and quiet loyalty. Michael has been with me since the beginning. He is more than an advisor.
Michael is family.
Suddenly, the door of the Lentini bar opens. Two senior Lentini men step out: I recognize one as Paolo’s cousin, a mid-level capo with a reputation for brutality. They climb into a black sedan and pull away.
“Follow them,” I order. “At a distance. Do not lose them.”
Michael starts the engine and eases into traffic, keeping two cars between us.
We tail them through the city streets, heading toward a neighborhood I know well.
My stomach tightens as their car slows and stops outside another bar, one where several of my own generals like to unwind after long nights.
“What the fuck…” I mutter.
Michael’s hands tighten on the wheel. “That is Marco’s place. Three of our guys are in there right now. I checked the roster before we left.”
The Lentini men get out and head inside. This is not a coincidence. This is a deliberate move.
“Call for a squad,” I say, voice cold. “Trusted soldiers only. Have them meet us two blocks away. There is about to be a bloodbath.”
Michael is already on the encrypted phone line, speaking rapidly in Russian.
I check my own weapon, mind racing through possibilities. If the Leones are making a move on my generals tonight, it means the truce is dead. And if they are bold enough to strike in one of our own territories, they are either very confident or very desperate.
Either way, I will answer in kind.
Then it hits me… what if the Lentini men aren’t making a move on my generals?
What if the meeting is to plot against me?