She opened her red lips and took me all the way in.
Warm. Wet. Tight. My cock jerked inside her mouth, swelling instantly to full size.
Vanessa's technique was flawless. She knew exactly how to swirl her tongue around the sensitive ridge, how to hollow her cheeks for suction. The wet sounds from deep in her throat echoed obscenely in the silent hall.
It felt good. Raw pleasure, like high-octane fuel pumping through an engine. I closed my eyes, let her tongue work. Her hands kneaded my balls with perfect pressure.
But then—damn it—Anthea's face appeared in my mind. I thought of her clumsy, eager attempts in bed. The way her amber eyes looked at me with stupid, unguarded trust. Love.
"Silas..."
Fuck. Why was her voice crawling into my head now?
I snapped my eyes open, looked down at Vanessa—red curls bouncing as her head moved. But all I could see was Anthea's blonde hair spread across the pillow. Disgust twisted in my gut. I hated this loss of control.
I grabbed Vanessa's head roughly and shoved down hard. My cock plunged deep into her throat.
"Mmph!" She gagged but didn't pull back. Instead, she sucked harder, throat muscles clamping down, trying to drain me.
I thrust fast, brutal, wanting it over.
"Fuck."
With a low growl, anger and release tangled together, I came—hot and hard down her throat. Vanessa swallowed, struggling, then lifted her head. White streaks clung to her lips, but her face wore satisfaction.
I panted. The irritation didn't fade with the release.
"Looks like you enjoyed me. More fun than that pregnant woman, right?" Vanessa stood and whispered in my ear. "I missed you, Silas."
Her hands wandered, ready for more. Then my phone buzzed, sharp, urgent. I snapped out of it and caught her wrist.
"Emergency call." I pulled out my phone and answered.
"BOSS!" Marco's voice came through the wind and panic. "Our premium shipment on Highway 5 got hit—Tomaso's Italian bastards! They took the goods and put several of our guys in the hospital. They're heading north. We need backup!"
My eyes went cold. Lethal. Tomaso Lucese. That rat had been skulking in the shadows, watching the Thorne family. And now he had the balls to hit my core route.
"Hold them." My voice was ice. "Don't let them run. Contact Pavel. We're on our way."
I hung up, buckled my belt, and turned to leave.
Vanessa stared, disbelief on her flushed face. "Silas, you're leaving? You just came in my mouth, and now you're throwing me away like trash?"
"Tomaso hit our shipment. That's your father's most valued line." I gripped her shoulder, stroked her hair—calming, controlled.
"That fucking Tomaso..." She cursed, then grabbed my tie and pulled me down. "Fine. Go kill people. But before you leave, you owe me."
She stood on her toes, lips close. "Kiss me."
I kissed her—no tenderness. Just blood and the foul taste of cum. Seconds later, I pulled away.
Underground armory.
No luxury carpets or crystal chandeliers here. Just cold concrete, bulletproof glass cases, and the smell of gun oil. I strode in, tossed my jacket on a bench, and rolled up my sleeves.
"About damn time." Pavel leaned against a rack of assault rifles, meticulously cleaning a black M4. He looked up, voice rough. "Thosebastards thought it was Valentine's Day—figured you'd be too busy plowing some woman to notice. Big mistake."
He tossed me the rifle, grinned. The scar running from his brow to his jaw twisted with the movement. "What, couldn't the sweet little thing at the manor keep you? Or did the foreign princess give you indigestion?"
