Moments like this are the times I wish for silence, but…we’re not there yet. One day, hopefully, if Antonio and the twins buckle down and learn from the trips. They started to…and then Emilio and Roman got taken. I don’t blame my loves, but one day, I will command them all in my language.
He shakes his head. “All due respect, Sir?—”
“I wasn’t asking. You can strip and kneelnow, or I will make you. I can guarantee you will not like the second option.”
His mouth opens a little, and I imagine he gasps, though I can’t hear it. Quickly, he begins undoing his shirt and kicks off his shoes. I watch as he strips and carefully lays his suit out on the bench that one of them put at the end of the bed.
When he kneels in front of me, I wait until he stops twitching and shifting. His position is second nature, but his head is too chaotic for him to sink into it.
“Hands behind your back,” I order. “I want your head down, and for you to sit for me like the good boy you are.”
He complies, and though it’s not instant, having more direction—a task to complete for his Dom—helps calm him.
“Good. Stay very still for me, Antonio.”
His name is another blow to his already twisting emotions, but it’s a necessary one, as it tells him exactly how I’m feeling about his actions.
Trusting him, I walk to the closet and head straight for the far wall, where the toys I ordered are waiting. This isn’t how I wanted to play with them, but needs must. It’ll be fun, at least, for me.
Grabbing what I need, I return to the bedroom to find a perfectly still Boy, even if he's not calm. I can see the tension in him, how he holds himself so stiffly.
Walking over, I trail the falls of the flogger across his shoulders and down his back, letting him feel the supple material. Antonio shudders and relaxes a bit more, his head dropping further forward.
“Good boy,” I praise. Dragging the falls down his chest, I smile as he moans and shivers. “Why are you so upset, Antonio?”
He tries to raise his head, but I move back a little, so the toy is no longer touching him. And he stays in position.
“Good boy. I’ll tell you when it's time to lift your head. Tell me, why are you so angry?”
“Because the asshole should be dead!” he spits out angrily towards the floor. “Marcus brought him here, into the house that feels like home, into the family we are building…he doesn't deserve that. He doesn't deserve to see how we're thriving, despite him trying to put us down. He doesn't get to come in and try to take over?—”
“Stop,” I order. “Look at me.”
There's hurt in his brown gaze, and it's such a far cry from the warmth I normally see in them. “Allesandro is here because he needs medical attention. Doc is the best, and doesn't let anyonedie on his table. Not only that, him being here does not mean he gets to steamroll over any of the progress we've made.
“Carter is the Boss here—until Roman and Lio return—while Keegan, Benjamin, and I are next in line. None of us would let him jeopardize all that we've fought for. Do you really think Ten or Hollis would let him bulldoze his way in? He'll be lucky if he doesn't end up with a knife in him.” Or another bullet, considering Leandro has seemed to adopt Lio as his.
I watch as the devastated of his actions and words plays out on his face, and he realizes just how big of a fuck up this is.
“Do you not trust me to make sure you and the Boys are safe?” I ask softly.
His eyes widen. “I do, Sir. Of course, I do.”
I gesture with the flogger to his still-caged cock. “That tells me otherwise. I told you it was staying until you learned to trust me. What happened to that, Antonio? What went so wrong that you attacked your best friend instead of asking your Dom for help?”
His lips thin, and the anger mixed with pain is back in his eyes. “He fucking started it! Calling methatfucking name…”
“Enough. I can see you're not ready to be honest. So, we're going to do things a little bit differently. In a way, you'll understand. Up. I want you over the dresser.”
Pushing away from the furniture in question, I trade places with him, only Antonio braces his hands on the wooden dresser, spreading his feet apart and offering himself to me.
“Such a pretty Bel Fiore,” I tell him, dragging the flogger across his ass.
Moving in, I tie one of his more colorful ties around his hand and wrist, leaving enough slack so he can wave it like a flag.
“I plan on caning your ass until you either decide you're ready to talk or I feel like stopping. For the sake of your perfectass, I hope you choose the first option. Do you understand, Antonio?”
“Yes, Sir.”
