“You aren’t a strong enough man for me, Matteo. That’s evident.”
“I hope you die with my cum still inside you, you traitorous whore.” The venomous taunts linger in the air between us.
“When I kill you, I will make it hurt in the most delicious way possible. You think you took something valuable from me, something that men like you haven’t been taking my whole life. You put your dick inside me without my consent and look where it got you. You’ll pay for that, mark my words. You want to see what I’m truly capable of? Watch this space, Matteo. I’m fucking coming for you and not on that pathetic cocktail sausage you call a dick.”
I spit his name at him. “I will have my vengeance; I hope it will have been worth it.” I laugh out and shuffle in the chair, giving him my back.
“You fucker. Fucking look at me. Arianna, fuck.” He screams and sobs and splutters, and I don’t turn, I don’t reply, I don’t play. I close my eyes and rest. I’m going to need all my strength. Now, I just need to find a way to kill them all.
Matteo will have to wait. My focus needs to be on Bellino. If I can sway him, if I can turn him against the Syndicate, against his father. I may be able to get myself out of this mess, and when I do, they want to hope I show them mercy.
Bellino
Chapter Four
I’m at the bar, blowing off steam. Arianna’s locked in the basement with that backstabbing cunt Matteo. Something about knowing what he did to her makes me less inclined to kill her, and I’m not sure why. I’m conflicted, and that gives me pause. I’m always so certain. There’s no grey. It’s either black or white. I’m not one to make rash decisions. Things are normally so cut and dry.
I needed to get out of the house. All I can hear is him yelling and her ignoring him; I’m trying to decide if I want to fuck or fight, but I suppose they can be combined. I just need a release.
I stare from the centre of the booth. I’m in the VIP area, and it’s quiet. The staff mill around me while I stare out at the dance floor, trying to catch the eye of something, anything, to take my frustrations out on. The server keeps eyeing me, but heseems too brash, too bold for my taste. Still, his gaze lingers, and I’m only human. I nod, beckoning him over.
“When are you on break?” He looks at his wrist.
“Twenty minutes.” He gives me a wide smile.
“Meet me in the black room.” I stand. Towering over him, his eyes widen, and he nods before tossing me a wink and sauntering away, his hips swaying. I snarl a little, but a fuck’s a fuck, and right now I don’t give a fuck. I just need to sink my dick and teeth into something hot.
I push through into the black room. As a VIP member, I get my choice of room, and it’s laid out like any normal strip club, but here they cater to other wants and needs. I step inside and flick the lights on dim. I pull the curtains closed over the two-way glass and remove my jacket, hanging it on the rack. I roll up my sleeves and undo a few buttons from the collar of my shirt. Pulling a few condoms out of my pocket, I toss them on the small table. Even though there is a bowl full in here, I refuse to take chances with things of that nature. A few moments later, the door creaks open. The waiter steps in. His white shirt clings to his toned body, and his black slacks hang from his slim hips. He’s around five foot eight, nine at a push. He’s not bad to look at, but definitely not my type.
“Get undressed,” I snarl.
I undo my fly and tug my dick from the confines of my trousers. Squeezing it at the base before I lean down and pick up the condom, my eyes never straying from his as he slowly removes his clothes. He stands there naked in front of me. He places his hands on his hips and grins at me.
I blow out a breath. Cocky fucker. I close my eyes for a second and breathe, trying to calm my instant reaction to punch him. I rip the foil packet with my teeth and squeeze out the condom, taking it in my fingers and sliding it over my dick. I step closer to him.
“Turn around.” I snap, and he grins, slowly stepping around before looking at me over his shoulder. I lurch forward, snatching the back of his neck and slamming his body forward. His hands fly out with a gasp as he tries to stop himself from face-planting the door, with him bent at a right angle. I grab my dick, step up behind him and thrust. It’s tight. I grip him harder.
He screams out as I push through his resistance. He clenches, trying to keep me out. I grip his neck firmer. I squeeze harder as my other hand grabs at his hip, slamming him back into me. He screeches out again as one hand comes from the door to stop me from powering into him. I pull out and crash against him. My balls slap against his ass, and he squeals. I thrust, my grip tightening with every shove. His hot ass trembles as I show no mercy. I rip my hips back over and over again, driving into him relentlessly.
He screams out on every thrust and whimpers when I pull out. I slam into him, keeping his head down. His cockiness soon disappears. I punish him for being stupid enough to think I could be swayed, thinking my reputation wasn’t fucking earned. I fuck into him, and my balls draw up. tightening as I slam my dick into him harder each time, chasing my release. I don’t give a fuck about him, about his pleasure. I will take what I want.
He whimpers, almost sobbing, and it crawls inside me to that dark place that makes me smile at the discomfort I’m causing. I thrust again. I come, filling the condom. My ears ring as I take a deep breath, letting the calm wash over me as I pull out. I turn and tug the condom off, tie it and stuff it in my pocket. I don’t trust any fucker.
He slumps against the door, tears trail tracks of despair down his cheeks. As he breathes heavily, broken and dazed, I bend in front of him, leaning over. He flinches as my thumb slides over his cheek. The tear holds its form against my digit, and I bring it to my lips, licking the sweet-salty taste from myskin. I shudder, and my eyes close for a second. When they open again, he’s watching me intently. He stutters a sobbed breath. I stare for a second, and a slight tug at the side of my mouth quirks at his discomfort.
Standing abruptly, I tuck my shirt back into my trousers and redo my sleeves. Plucking my jacket off the rack, I slide it back on. His eyes widen, his breathing ragged and broken, his eyes puffy as he draws his legs up, wincing. I grin down at him.
“Move,” I snarl. He scurries away from the door. I reach for the handle before stopping and turning towards him. I reach for my wallet and take out a few hundreds and toss them on the floor in front of him. I give him a feral smirk before stepping out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me.
I hear a stutter of breath before I step away and back into the club. Heading back to my seat, I wave at another waiter to bring me another drink. I settle in, feeling a little more centred, a little more me. But still something’s missing, something’s always missing. The guys here just can’t quite seem to satisfy my… cravings.
I toss back a few whiskeys before calling my driver and calling it a night. The guy I fucked didn’t come back to serve me again, and I can’t say I give a shit either way. His ass was tight, his tears were pretty, and his screams were a chorus, but I want the whole fucking symphony. I step outside as my driver pulls up. I tug the cigar from my pocket and light it up, drawing in the nicotine, the scent, the feeling of it all as I blow out the smoke. It swirls around me as my driver steps out to open my door.
“Where to tonight, Mr Ricci?” he singsongs, far too happy for this time of night.
“Home.” I climb in the back, and the door clunks closed behind me.
Driving home, I stare out of the window, watching the delinquents roam the city before heading home to their families,to their bastard kids.No, thank you.Pulling up outside the house, the driver stops at the bottom of my steps. I don’t wait for him to open the door. Stepping out of the car and climbing the stairs, I take my last few drags of the cigar. I stub it out on the marble column just outside the door as a massive fuck-off to my father.
