Page 21
ALEX
Antonio looks up at me with an expression I cannot read, and somehow that makes it harder to stop talking.
I fidget with the hem of my coat sleeve, rubbing the fabric between my fingers while trying to keep my voice steady.
“I don’t mean to be pushy or anything, but it helps to know what you expect from me so I can be prepared.”
Antonio rises from the bench. He does not answer immediately, just walks toward me with that slow, deliberate stride that always makes me feel like I have already lost whatever argument I am trying to have before he even opens his mouth.
“That’s the point, little stripper,” he says when he stops in front of me. “I don’t want you to be prepared.”
A small shiver runs down my spine, and I hate that he notices because his eyes drop briefly to my throat before returning to my face.
“Okay, but I can’t be available to you all the time, just so you know,” I say, even though some sensible part of my brain is already telling me to stop talking. “I kind of have a life.”
I have no idea why I keep pushing him, except that something inside me seems fascinated by the way his control thins whenever I challenge him, and now that I have seen the first crack, I want to know how far it goes.
Antonio’s nostrils flare, and his expression hardens.
“What part of you’re mine do you not understand?” he snarls.
Either I have suddenly become the bravest man in New York or there is something deeply wrong with me that enjoys watching Antonio Scalera lose his composure, because instead of backing down, I tilt my head and keep going.
“Frankly, all of it,” I say, keeping my tone deliberately conversational even while my pulse starts beating faster. “It could mean anything, and it could mean absolutely nothing. You already have your cousins, so I don’t see what you need me for.”
Something in his face changes.
“I’ll show you.” The words come out low and rough, and before I can decide whether I should be worried about how much I like the sound of them, his hand closes around me and he shoves me down onto the floor. “You belong to me,” he growls.
The rough boards press into my skin and send pain shooting up my thighs. Antonio stands over me, his green eyes dark, while the sea crashes against the shore and every nerve in my body is suddenly awake. Before I can shift into a more comfortable position, Antonio grabs my jaw and pushes three fingers into my mouth while his other hand reaches for the zipper of his trousers.
“You can’t run your mouth when it’s full of my cock.”
My eyes widen around his fingers, and for one second my whole body is pulled in two directions at once, one instinct telling me to push him away and run while another keeps me exactly where I am, staring up at him with my palms braced against the cold floor and my pulse beating violently beneath my skin.
Antonio pulls his fingers from my mouth, leaving my lips wet and parted, then opens his trousers, and my mouth goes dry and then waters when he frees his cock. He is thick and long, and the crown is flushed darker than the rest of him. Heat rolls through my stomach as my own cock begins to harden inside my pants.
Is this why I kept pushing him? Had some part of me known exactly what I wanted when I kept needling him, waiting for his patience to finally break? I’m not like Logan, am I? At least, I have never thought I was. But maybe spending so much time around him has corrupted something in me.
Antonio hooks his fingers against the inside of my lower lip and pulls my mouth open wider, stretching it until it aches before he replaces them with the blunt head of his cock. The first taste of him pulls a helpless moan out of me and the vibration of it travels around him before I can swallow it back.
“Oh, no,” he says, and the cruelty in his voice sends heat rushing through me. “This is not for your enjoyment.”
He then plunges his cock deeper, not pausing for me to get used to his size until the head of his cock reaches the back of my throat. My stomach clenches as I gag hard, tears springing to my eyes while my ears start ringing, the sound of the sea now distant and muffled. I grip his thighs to steady myself as he begins to move, giving me barely enough time to drag air through my nose.
One of his hands closes in my hair, gathering a fistful near the roots until my scalp burns, and he uses the grip to pull my head back before forcing me forward to meet him. Each movement is so violent that my knees scrape against the hard wood beneath me, pain biting through the fabric of my trousers while his cock drives deep into my mouth again and again.
The tears in my eyes make him blurry above me, but I keep going, hollowing my cheeks as I take him deeper and working my mouth around him with my saliva that mixes with the precum leaking onto my tongue even though my throat already feels raw.
His other hand disappears behind his jacket while saliva spills over my lower lip and he tightens his fist in my hair. The sting makes my cock jerk inside my pants and my face burns, but I do not slow down. I take him deeper instead, my fingers digging harder into his thighs while another rough thrust makes me gag and sends fresh tears spilling down my cheeks.
Antonio’s other hand comes back from beneath his jacket, and at first I am too busy trying to breathe around his cock to pay attention to what he is holding. Then something cold touches the corner of my mouth and my eyes flick down.
It’s a gun.
A fucking gun.
I shake my head vigorously, a jolt of panic flying down my spine, but his grip on my head does not allow me to stop sucking him off. I’m convinced there is not enough room for both his gun and cock, but he proves me wrong when he uses his index finger to make the corner of my mouth wider and the muzzle of the gun slides along my tongue while his cock fills the other side.
