SURRENDER

RUTHLESS DADDIES
R. PHOENIX
ADARA WOLF
 CONTENTS

Authors’ Notes
Warning and Triggers

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue

Ruthless Daddies 2 Series

Afterword
About Adara Wolf
About R. Phoenix
Also by Raissa & Adara Wolf
Also by Adara Wolf
Also by R. Phoenix
 AUTHORS’ NOTES

Thank you for picking up Surrender! We hope you enjoy reading about Fox
and Cristiano as much as we enjoyed writing them.
We’re especially grateful to all of our subscribers on our website and
Ream, whose support means we can keep writing the kind of content we
love.
If you know our works and are generally okay with jumping in blind,
please jump ahead to the first chapter. If you want a bit more info, keep
reading.

Content notes:
Unhealthy BDSM: First and foremost, Fox and Cristiano’s relationship
does not follow healthy BDSM protocols. This is very much a fantasy, and
we do not recommend trying any of this at home. Fox is not a real person,
and he can push his body a lot more without those pesky human
limitations.
Past Trauma: Neither Fox nor Cristiano had a happy home life, but
Fox in particular has a lot of trauma from his childhood. He also suffered a
lot of abuse growing up, specifically physical, verbal, and emotional abuse.
None of the childhood abuse is shown on screen, but it is alluded
to/referenced.
 Other things you can expect:
• Daddy kink
• Age gap
• Dubious consent
• Unnegotiated kink
• Mild pissplay
• Electrostimulation
• Pain kink / extreme masochism
• Spanking
• Belting
• Praise kink
• Crying/tears
• Breath play
• Blood
• Extreme violence (especially towards villain)
• Eye gore/trauma (to villain)

🙂
If you’re okay with all of that, hop right in! If not, no hard feelings. We
understand that not all works are for everyone.
Adara & Raissa
 Surrender Copyright © 2023 R. Phoenix and Adara Wolf

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, copied, or stored in
any form or by any means without the prior written permission from the author. Exception for the use
of brief quotation in a review. This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events, brands,
companies, and places are used fictionally.

This book contains material suitable only for mature readers.

Cover Artist: Charli Childs

Formatter: Brea Alepoú
 WARNING AND TRIGGERS

Warnings & Tropes: Surrender contains scenes of Daddy kink, age

difference (late 30s + early 20s), D/s, painplay, masochism, electro
stimulation, cock & ball torture, spanking, cock cages, bondage, noncon
praise kink, past child abuse, flogging/belting, homophobia, threats of
watersports, gore/violence, eye trauma (to villain), dacryphilia (arousal
from tears), and forced proximity.
CHAPTER ONE
 CRISTIANO

T he worst thing about deals like this is all the waiting.

I glance at my watch—which also informs me I have six unread texts,
two missed calls, and not enough steps for the day—and shake my head.
Coming from a childhood where nothing had ever been on time, I always
try to be punctual.
When arms deals get delayed, the safest response is to turn tail and run
because it means something went wrong. There’s no room for laziness or
procrastination.
So when I see that my clock says ten past…
My skin crawls, my gut warning me that this isn’t right. This isn’t
normal.
“Pack up,” I tell my men. “They want this deal, they can do it on my
time or not at all.” It means I’ll have an entire shipment of guns to get rid
of, but that’s a secondary concern.
They’re used to the routine by now. Everyone should know that
Cristiano Fiore does not tolerate tardiness.
Marco nods to me and starts loading the truck again, and he’s discreet
enough to where I barely hear him curse in disappointment.
I get it. They depend on these deals for their paydays, and he’s a fucking
drunk when he’s off the clock with a taste for good whiskey. Functional
alcoholic, they call it, and a reason I’m working on moving up one of the
other men to take his place before he becomes a liability.
But I’m not risking everything on the off chance that someone’s simply
running late.
I’m starting to head toward the van when a shot rings out.
I’m not going to pretend I’m faster than a bullet. If somebody’s got
good aim, I can’t dodge.
But sometimes I am lucky.
The bullet grazes my arm and embeds itself into Marco instead. He
barely has time to cry out before he slumps over the shipment.
“B-boss…”
My instincts kick in, and I rush toward the van, ignoring the pain in my
arm. Everybody else takes cover too, going for their own guns. Marco
keeps making pained noises, but everybody knows that attempting to help
him is just putting a neon sign on their back.
Judging from where Marco got hit, the gunman has to be closer to the
warehouse entrance, potentially on higher ground.
I unholster my gun and try to remember the layout of the shelves and
pillars. Warehouses make a great place to exchange goods—nobody
questions crates going in and out—but they’re nightmares to navigate.
There are also far too many places for somebody to hide.
This was all a setup. Fuck. I’d done my due diligence and researched
the buyer, and nothing had triggered any red flags. That’s a bad sign, as it
means whoever wants me gone is powerful and cunning enough to get
around our usual vetting system.
“Fucking show yourself!” one of my men shouts. He doesn’t shoot,
though, because I’ve trained my people well. There’s no point in wasting
bullets—or potentially shooting one of our own men—by shooting blindly.
At least he’s providing a distraction, though. I crawl around the van and,
still laying low, continue behind a crate. It’s not ideal, and crawling makes
me an easier target than if I’d been running, but I need to find out who the
fuck tried to shoot at me.
If they’re smart, they’ve already packed up after one miss.
But another shot rings out, and another of my men falls to the floor.
Fuck. That’s definitely a sniper rifle, not a handgun. I keep moving,
hoping the sniper stays in his current spot and gives me time to get closer.
Unfortunately, he must have spotted me, because the next shot embeds
itself into one of the boxes next to me. Fuck.
I give up on stealth and start running, winding my way closer to where I
think he has to be.
I hear the clatter of a gun being dropped, and the next gunshot is
different. It also catches me in my side, where I’m thankfully wearing bullet
resistant armor. The impact hurts, but I grunt through it because I’m so
fucking close.
Just ahead, somebody dashes around one of the shelves. He’s given up
on stealth too, and shoots again even though I’m nowhere near him.
But now I know where he is.
I change my course, running down a different row. If I’m right…
I reach the end of the aisle just as he does. He doesn’t have time to react
before I’ve tackled him to the ground.
He grunts and bucks against me—not like a wild animal, but with the
precision of somebody trained to fight back. Too bad for him that I’m no
slouch myself, and I have a good fifty pounds of muscles on him.
He catches my jaw with the palm of his hand, which fucking hurts, but I
use that opportunity to grab his wrist and pin it to the floor. Then I jab my
gun under his jaw, and he immediately stills.
He’s younger than I expected, with messy strands of red hair around his
face.
If I had to guess, I’d say he was in his early twenties. His green eyes are
cold and hard, though, at odds with what would have been a babyface
otherwise.
“Who sent you?” I growl at him. It’s probably a futile question, but
sometimes men like this would rather give up who’s truly responsible rather
than taking the heat themselves. It’s not likely I’ll get any useful answers,
though.
“Don’t know,” he answers with a sneer. “They really want you dead,
though.”
Of course they do. I have enemies, just like everyone else in this line of
business. There’s always someone you’ve pissed off, always someone who
wants to take your place. Well, fuck that.
I stare at him, cold eyes meeting cold eyes, and I recognize a kindred
soul. I wouldn’t betray an employer either, not without extreme pressure.
Well, I’ll just have to make sure he feels it.
Before I can even begin to formulate a plan, though, one of my men
screams something unintelligible. With the gun still firmly lodged in place,
I look up, just in time to feel the building rumble around us and feel the heat
of a blast.
I instinctively get as low as I can—which has my body flush against the
gunman’s as the shelves and racks of the warehouse tumble around us.
Fuck.
Judging from the size of the blast and where it came from… if I’d still
been near the van, I’d have been caught in the middle of it.
If he’d still been where he was earlier, he would have been caught in the
blast too.
“You’re an idiot, huh,” I say to him. “You would have blown yourself
up too.”
He scowls up at me, his hair falling into his face. “What? This isn’t me.
I don’t do explosives. Did one of your men rig your van to blow?”
And destroy the product? Like hell. Not unless one of them is a traitor,
too, which… This isn’t the time or place to worry about that. I need to get
out of here and find safety before I put this bastard through the wringer.
I grunt and drag him up, and he uses the opportunity to land a perfectly
placed chop to my wrist that has my gun dropping to the floor beneath us.
Fuck!
I grab my secondary weapon from its holster, but right as I’m about to
aim for his knee, the warehouse rocks with the force of another explosion
right in front of us. I scramble back, the wave of heat and ash and dust
making it difficult to breathe.
The hitman’s eyes widen, and he stumbles into me. I instinctively lash
out against him, and I’m surprised that my hand connects with his chest
without him evading the blow. He grunts and collapses to the floor.
Smoke starts rising up around us. Something must have caught fire. I
start coughing, and it takes me a moment to realize the would-be hitman
isn’t making any noise.
If he’s gone and gotten himself killed—potentially with his own
explosives—I will be royally annoyed.
I get down to the ground and grab his shoulder. He moans, which means
he’s still alive, but when I roll him onto his stomach, I grimace. His back is
cut up bad from the flying debris.
I glance around to assess the situation. The fire appears to be coming
from a few rows over. The shelves have toppled in a lot of places, but I
think I can clear a path to the warehouse exit.
I pull off my jacket and shirt, then tie my shirt around my face as a
makeshift mask. It would be better if it was wet, but it’ll have to do for now.
I get to work on moving boxes out of the way, gritting my teeth against the
pain in my arm.
It would be easier with another pair of hands.
“Hey, kid,” I say, grabbing him by the hair. “You awake enough to help
out, or do you just want to die here?”
 He groans again, and blinks hard. “I’m—I’m not dying here.” He gets
onto his elbows and tries to sit up. It takes him a few tries, and he’s
grimacing in pain the entire time. “F-fuck. How… how are we getting out?”
It’s a good question, one I’m not entirely sure how to answer.
“Boss!” someone hollers from across the warehouse—Nico, I think—
and I’m relieved to find that at least one of my men survived the blasts. At
the same time, the idea of a traitor in our midst makes me hesitate. Should I
call back to him and let him know where I am, or should I stay quiet?
Sometimes this is a lonely fucking business.
“C’mon, boy,” I tell the redhead. “You can help me clear debris.”
Finally making my decision, I shout, “Up here. Can you clear a path from
the other side?”
There’s a moment of silence, then he yells back, “I can try, but it’s
pretty bad. And my left side is roasted, Boss.” He sounds like he’s biting
down a lot of pain.
“I think we can climb over the boxes and shit,” I muse, glancing again
at the hitman. “Got a hostage here!” I call out. “If someone comes out
without me, shoot.”
The kid rolls his eyes at me before pulling his shirt over his nose. “I’ll
save my strength for getting out alive.” He shuffles forward and grabs
another box. He was wearing gloves, at least, but there’s a rip in one of
them where some shrapnel got through.
If he hadn’t been between me and that second blast, I would have been
the one who’d gotten hit.
Despite the pain I know he must be in, he helps me without complaint. I
hear him hiss and grunt a few times, but he knows as well as I do that if we
stay here too long, we’re both going to die.
I can hear jostling noises from the other side, and it’s a relief when I
hear Nico’s voice coming from several feet away, “Almost got it, Boss.”
His own voice is strained, but just like us, he knows we need to get out as
fast as possible.
Nico deserves a raise, and potentially a promotion, for sticking around
instead of only worrying about his own ass—of course, if he’d taken off and
left me for dead, and I’d caught up with him, he’d have wished he’d died
here.
Several long, grueling minutes later, the redhead and I manage to break
our way through onto the other side.
Nico wasn’t lying about his side. He looks like he’s just been a
marshmallow roast, except his side was the marshmallow with all the
smoke and debris clinging to his wounds. Fuck. I really did get off easy
from this compared to these two, with only minor injuries from the blast.
“We’ll get you to a doctor,” I tell him as I reach for him. Nico looks
grateful, then confused, when I start fishing around his pockets.
I pull out the car keys for one of the cars we’d left outside.
“I’m… out of here,” the redhead says, taking a few stumbling steps
away from us. “Let’s call it even.”
I chuckle. It’s a good try, really, but if he thinks I’m going to call that
even, he has another thing coming to him. Really, he has several things
coming to him, even if he doesn’t know that yet. I grab his arm, twisting it
behind his back. “Let’s not. C’mon, boy. It wouldn’t be polite if I didn’t get
you a doctor, too.”
“Go… fuck yourself,” he says, but he’s not struggling. He must be a lot
more injured than he’s letting on.
A second later he goes slack, and I assume he’s faking it at first, until he
completely collapses. I have to catch him before he cracks his head open on
the concrete floor. I curse, but yank him up, half-expecting the pain to jar
him back into consciousness.
It doesn’t.
 “Let’s get out of here,” I tell Nico. I look around, grimacing at the sight.
The fire is raging, and I don’t see any of my other men. “You and the kid in
the backseat. Make sure you hold a gun to his head if he wakes up. Fuck.
Are we the only ones who survived?”
Nico nods, grimacing in pain. Realistically, he’ll probably pass out as
soon as we’re in the car. “The explosion was centered right around where
we were… and where you were.”
Where the boy had been hiding.
Well, well, well.
It looks like I really do need to have a chat with my pretty little captive.
CHAPTER TWO
 ??

F ucking hell , my back is burning.

That’s my first thought when I wake up, and it takes up a lot of space in
my brain until I get my breathing under control and swallow the pain down.
I’ve dealt with worse, I remind myself. This is… cuts, bruises, some
first- or second-degree burns. But I’ve already been “patched up,” judging
by the neat bandages wrapped around my hand and chest.
I automatically say, “Thank you,” but a few seconds after the words are
out of my mouth, I realize I’m not at home, my hands are fucking chained
to the headboard, and it’s not Corbin sitting on the chair next to the bed. No,
the man next to me is far more handsome, with dark blond hair, a well-
maintained beard, and deep blue eyes.
It’s my mark, Cristiano Fiore.
He looks a lot better off than I feel, despite all the explosions and
shooting. I’m still pissed at myself that I didn’t manage to off him. He
slowed his gait unexpectedly, or the line of sight was bad, or…
Yeah, excuses. Corbin would beat me for a mistake like that.
“You have manners,” Fiore says, a smirk quirking onto his lips. “That’s
new.”
“Fuck you.” I test the manacles around my wrists, but they don’t have
any give, and I can’t quite reach the buckles.
 Not with Fiore watching, anyway.
After a few attempts, I give up and look at him again. “So, what’s on the
agenda? An interrogation?”
“That does seem to be the logical next step,” Fiore says, his voice a
pleasant, rich sound—or at least, it would be pleasant if it wasn’t for that
fucking amusement in it. “I don’t suppose you’re going to just tell me what
I need to know so we can move on with our lives?”
“Sure,” I say, pasting on a smile. “Somebody wanted you dead. Who is
that somebody? No clue. You know how things are in this business. Proxies
upon proxies.”
“Oh, I know how things are in this business, all right, little fox,” Fiore
says. “And smart little would-be assassins find out as much information as
they can about their clients despite those supposed boundaries for their own
safety. Are you a smart would-be assassin?”
Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell Fiore anything. I do have a reputation to
uphold, and nobody hires an assassin who sells out their clients. It’s just bad
for business.
But right now, I wish I did know. Not to share with Fiore, but because
those fucking explosions were not planned. Either my client had hired a
second person to do my job, or, even worse… I was the intended target of at
least one of those bombs.
I need to get back to Corbin to see if he knows anything.
“Sure. My client is connected to the underground. Another arms dealer?
A jealous mafia rival? Or maybe it’s actually one of your exes. Y’know, the
one with the big tits.” I laugh, although the movement tears something in
my back and sends pain flaring across my body.
Fuck, I might be more injured than I thought.
“That’s extraordinarily helpful,” Fiore drawls, but something flickers
across his expression. “Lie still. You have stitches in your back that you
won’t want to upset unless you’re a masochist. And if you are… Well, we
could have a lot more fun during this interrogation.”
“You already have me chained to your bed. Not like I can stop you from
doing anything.” I snap my teeth at him. “But I do bite.”
My eyes wander down to his fly. It’s hard to tell with the nice suit he’s
wearing and sitting as he is what he’s got underneath there. Probably the
same average, dirty cock as most straight men. I should know—I’ve sucked
enough cocks from guys who insisted they were completely straight,
honest, they were just very hard-up.
“I’m terrified,” he says, deadpan. He shifts in his chair to give me a
better look at his crotch with a knowing smirk on his lips. “Don’t worry,
little fox. I know just how to handle naughty boys who don’t want to tell the
truth.”
I’m caught off-guard by the banter. I had expected a homophobic
rebuke, not… flirtation? I meet his gaze, wondering if he’s being serious or
if he’s one of the few gangsters who is actually secure enough in his
heterosexuality to tease a man like this. Most of them would have flipped
out at a man hitting on them, as if that alone would turn them gay.
“Ooh, how scary,” I answer blithely. “How fortunate that I am telling
the truth. Somebody wants you dead. If you want to know more than that,
you have to trace your own enemies.” I shift to get more comfortable and
notice another problem on top of the pain. “What’s your bathroom situation,
by the way? Do you take me out for walkies? Gonna make me pee in a
bottle?”
“It’s so adorable, how you think you can bait me into making a mistake
with you. Foxes might be small, but they’re clever. So, alas, it’s a bottle or a
catheter. I’ll even allow you the choice,” Fiore says, with a smile that could
also be charming on his lips if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s being a dick. A
charming dick, maybe, but still a dick.
 I shrug as best I can. “Bottle, then. You’ll have to get my cock out for
me though. I can’t exactly hold it on my own.”
I really don’t need to experience a catheter again.
“This is where you say, ‘pretty please, Mr. Fiore,’” he says. He’s
enjoying this entirely too much. What happened to the hardened
professional I’d been sent to kill? This man is nothing like what I’d
expected.
“Want me to throw a daddy in there too?” I joke. “Oh, please, Daddy,
help me not piss myself.”
Only as soon as I say it, I regret the words. My heart is beating a little
faster, and a thrum of arousal has my cock throbbing.
Fuck.
His eyes darken, and he pauses for a long moment before a grin slowly
spreads across his lips. “Now that you mention it… I think I do. I’ve been
called all sorts of things, but Daddy’s a new one. I think I like it. So ask
properly, and I’ll stick your cock into a bottle so you can piss.”
“Fuck you,” I growl, but I know I should have kept the tone light, to not
give away how I’m affected. “If you don’t get me a bottle, I’ll just piss
myself here, and you’ll have a huge mess to clean up.”
“What makes you think I’ll bother cleaning up the mess?” Fiore asks,
his eyebrow lifting. “I don’t know what sort of man you think I am, little
fox, but this wouldn’t be the first time I made a man piss himself.” He
doesn’t sound arrogant when he says it, like he’s trying to prove something.
He just sounds matter of fact.
I’m already imagining being left tied up here, cold and wet and messy.
It would be utterly humiliating.
But my cock seems to think the opposite.
I don’t particularly want to fuck my way out of this situation, but if
Fiore is interested in a cute little “fox,” well… I’ve done worse to escape a
dire situation.
 I glance at him again. “You’d make the staff clean up? They’d see the
prisoner you keep in your guest room. What would they think? They might
even suspect you’re gay.”
Fiore’s eyes narrow at that, the words landing just like the weapon
they’d been meant to be. His expression clears after only a few seconds, but
I saw it. He doesn’t like being called gay—maybe it’s the fact that even
being suspected as being gay is dangerous in our world, or maybe he really
is. “I’ll come back to chat later, when you’re in a better mood,” he says,
with a smile that’s cold, brittle. “Then we’ll try this again.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Yeah, he wants to be in charge. “Daddy,
please don’t go,” I say, trying to sound like I’m reluctant to say it. “I really,
really need to piss.”
“That’s cute,” he says, considering me for a moment. “I think I like that.
Has anyone ever told you you’re adorable when you beg? Try again. Put it
all together, and let’s see how that sounds.” He stands up.
“Daddy, please help me piss,” I say, mostly to get it over with.
Only my voice is a little raw, and I can feel my skin heating up. I’ve
trained myself not to blush, but something about begging Daddy to help…
He seems to like it too, judging from the way he has to adjust his cock
in his pants. He goes over by the door and gets a big bottle with a wide
mouth that looks like it’s been made for just this occasion and returns.
“Here we go.” He sets it next to me and unfastens my pants, fishing in my
boxer briefs to pull out my semi-erect cock as nonchalantly as if he’s
tucking hair back behind my ear.
I bite my lip and try to will my cock to calm the fuck down. Fiore is
barely touching me, but his fingers feel so hot against my skin. I tell myself
to just piss, get this over with, and wait for an opportunity to escape.
He pushes the head of my cock down into the bottle, holding it there
with an amused glint in his eyes. “Does piss play always get you hard, or is
it just looking into my eyes, little fox?”
 “Guys touching my dick does it for me,” I answer cheekily. I close my
eyes and focus on relieving myself. I have no idea how long I was out, but
it must have been a while.
When I’m finally done, he pulls the bottle away and screws the cap on,
all without a single flinch—like he does this all the fucking time. He leaves
my cock out of my pants, though.
“So let’s get started,” Fiore says, setting the bottle by the door then
coming back to sit beside me. “Simple things first. What’s your name?”
That’s probably the least simple question of them all. I give him a smile,
though, and say, “Fox.”
He lets out a bark of laughter. “So if I’d been calling you pumpkin this
whole time, you’d have said your name was pumpkin?”
I pretend to think about it. “Pumpkin doesn’t sound as nice. But nope,
Fox is my name. My parents took one look at my red hair and went with the
most cliche thing they could think of.”
Yeah, wouldn’t that have been a nice scenario? I don’t remember who
my parents were, or what they named me, and even if I did… I wouldn’t
still be called that.
Fox works for now.
“So, Fox,” Fiore says, shaking his head slightly as he settles back in the
chair. “Who do you work for? Generally speaking?”
“I freelance. Generally speaking. I have a website and everything. It’s
five bucks per contract, ten if my client needs a rush delivery.” I wonder if
he’s recording this conversation. I should have paid more attention to what I
was saying earlier, although I was—am—still a bit woozy.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to undervalue your worth?” Fiore asks.
“You’re worth at least seven dollars, given your accuracy and aim in that
failure of a hit.” He tsks at me.
He’s clearly trying to provoke me. Anger doesn’t get you anywhere,
though. Anger is for when you’re with people you can trust.
 “I’m still building my portfolio. I hear working for exposure is a great
way to gain a reputation and find paying clients.”
He snorts at my joke, and I have to admit he does look good with that
small smile.
It really is too bad I’m supposed to be killing him, not fucking him.
“Sounds like you’ll have one hell of a resume when all this is over.
Sniping, bombs…” Fiore pauses, considering, and I can’t tell if he’s being
genuine or simply playing me. “But you said you didn’t do bombs, didn’t
you? Neither do I.”
Which reminds me of why I’m chained up here, with my back all torn
up from shrapnel. “Yeah.” I avert my gaze. “Some wires must have…
gotten crossed. Pun intended.”
Did my client betray me? But they couldn’t have known where I’d be.
They couldn’t have predicted when I’d make my move. If it wasn’t them—
no, even if it was them—it would mean they somehow managed to gain a
lot more information about me than they should have.
I’m fucking careful. I don’t make mistakes like this.
I need to contact Corbin. He can help me make sense of this.
Right after he lays into me for fucking up the way I have.
“Hmm. Well, from where I’m sitting,” Fiore says, “it seems like
someone tried to kill both of us. If I let you go, you’ll probably try to kill
me again, which is obviously problematic and not ideal for me. Right now,
no one knows if you’re alive or dead. That’s a pretty good place to be in
when you’re trying to hunt down someone who set you up.”
It takes me a second to realize what he’s suggesting. “You want… you
want us to team up? I should just forget my contract and work with you
instead?”
It’s a fucking stupid idea. I can’t trust Fiore. He’ll probably use me and
kill me once he’s gotten what he wants.
 But I’m also injured, and tired, and sore, and the thought of going back
to Corbin in this state only fills me with dread.
“It’s either that or I just slit your throat,” Fiore says matter-of-factly.
“Because I’m not cutting you loose only to have you come back to try to
fulfill that contract. I could blow your brains out, but my housekeeper
would definitely not appreciate that mess. Not that blood is much better, but
that’s their preference.”
I laugh at the threat, not because I don’t believe him, but because I
would have done the exact same thing. Only if our positions had been
reversed, I probably wouldn’t have bothered with the interrogation or the
piss play; I’d have murdered him on the spot.
I smile up at him. “Sure, Daddy, why not. I promise to be very obedient
so you don’t have to hurt me.”
He smirks back at me. “Don’t be too obedient. I’d hate to not have an
excuse to spank you before the end.” He gets up. “Get some rest. Your back
is fucked up,” he says more briskly, his tone far more businesslike. “Think
about what I said and make your real decision in the meantime.”
I watch him leave the room, then try to get more comfortable on the bed
with my cock still flopping out.
Fiore thinks I was lying. But I wasn’t. I’m not stupid enough to reject an
offer like that.
I can’t get my revenge on whoever did this to me if I’m dead.
CHAPTER THREE
 CRISTIANO

D addy .
I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but that’s not something I
thought I’d ever add to the list of ones I like. I’m used to hearing Sir, and
even Master, from some of my regulars at the BDSM club I frequent, but
never once have I accepted the name Daddy.
Maybe I just have my own father issues, and that’s why I don’t want to
be someone else’s even in play.
It’s not like no one’s ever brought it up before. A few sweet little subs
have begged me to let them call me Daddy, but I’m not interested in signing
up to be someone’s sugar daddy.
I have the money, but not the desire.
I still don’t, but the sound of the word coming from Fox’s plush lips
makes me want to slide my cock right over them and into his mouth.
Calm down.
I take a deep breath as I stare at the locked door in front of me, then
punch in the code that lets me inside the room with no windows. My guest
room, as Fox had called it, has seen more than its share of unwilling
houseguests. He’s just one of many.
So why is he affecting me like this?
 I close the door behind me, glancing at him—and the cock that’s still
lying on his inner thigh from where I’d neglected to tuck it back into his
pants.
Fox hasn’t moved much from before I left. He’s shifted enough to get
his arms a bit more comfortable, but with his back still injured, he can’t
stretch out easily.
“Have I given you enough time to make a proper decision?” I ask. I
know what he’s going to say. Yes, I’ll work with you; no, I won’t betray you.
But I’m not stupid enough to think that’s enough of a guarantee. He’ll have
to give me something… or I’ll just have to take it from him.
I squeeze the item in my pocket, considering it again. There are worse
ideas, but it’s up to the twinky little assassin in that bed.
Fox looks me in the eyes and nods. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not like I have
much of a choice, right? But I’d like to know who tried to have me killed
too. I’d be stupid to turn down your generous offer.”
“You would be,” I agree, a smirk curving onto my lips. “But I would be
stupid to trust an unknown assassin with a contract on my life. What kind of
idiot would trust your word not to just complete the contract and figure out
the rest later?” This would be easier for me if the would-be assassin wasn’t
so damn cute. If it was a big gorilla in the bed, I would probably just slit his
throat and be done with it.
Which is probably part of the reason I couldn’t find anything out about
Fox. An unknown assassin is either one of two things: very inexperienced,
or very good.
Fox snorts in amusement. “Okay, Daddy. What do you propose? Since
we can’t trust each other.”
“Not marriage, that’s for sure,” I drawl. It shouldn’t be so easy to get
drawn into banter with a contract killer, but then, I can’t say my hands are
clean either. I’m allowed to have a sense of humor sometimes—especially
when it’s my only way of dealing with the fact that I almost died the day
before. As it is, my arm throbs, reminding me of just how close I came to
dying. “How do you feel about collars?” I pull it out of my pocket and
dangle it out in front of me.
For what it is, it looks normal enough—like a dog collar, or maybe even
something a collared sub would wear.
Fox’s eyes narrow at me though. “I don’t know; how do you feel about
me biting your nose off?”
“You see,” I say, ignoring him completely, “they’re a symbol of trust in
my community. Fidelity. Submission.” I smirk at Fox. “They can also be a
real pain in the neck.” I cross over to him, standing just beside the bed and
holding the collar out so he can see it. “Literally.”
The leather is a bit thicker than most collars, but the really interesting
bit is the small compartment attached to the back—and the metal prongs on
the inside.
“Is that a fucking shock collar?” Fox sneers at me. “I thought you
wanted a boy, not a dog.”
“Who says those things are mutually exclusive?” I ask him. “You want
me to trust you, right? So give me a reason to trust you.” I smile at him, still
dangling the collar in my hand so he can see every inch of it. “Don’t worry.
They’re plenty safe for humans. Illegal to use on dogs, in some places, but
completely legal for humans. Go figure.”
Fox closes his eyes and doesn’t say anything for a while. That’s all
right. I’ve got enough patience to wait for him to realize that he really has
no choice. He either does this, or he’s dead.
Finally, he nods. “Fine,” he says, voice brittle. “But you’d better not be
a fucking tease if you’re putting that on me. I expect at least two orgasms
per day.”
That catches me off guard, and I can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, what?
I’m the one in charge here, not you. You can expect two orgasms a day all
you like, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get them.”
 Fox smirks at me. “So you were pawing at my cock just to blue ball
me? Guess you’re more bark than bite.”
“I’ve never been told I shied away from biting before,” I tell him,
returning his smirk. “I have the perfect idea.” I reach down and grab his
cock, squeezing lightly before I wrap the collar around it. “Let’s test out the
settings on this puppy.” I don’t know what I expect, but it isn’t for Fox to
spread his legs wider. Most men would be terrified of getting their cocks
pinched, let alone shocked.
“Sure,” Fox says. “I’ve never tried electrostimulation, but I know some
guys who are really into it. I’m all about the new experiences.”
“Happy I can oblige, then,” I say dryly. “We’re going to have lots of
new experiences together, Fox. I can just see it now.” I pull the remote out
of my other pocket, and without preamble, I flip the switch to turn it on.
The setting is relatively low, with plenty of room to be moved up, but it
should still pack a punch. I’d tested the collar, and I know how much it
stings against my arm. I don’t even want to imagine what it feels like on
something as sensitive as a cock.
“Fuck!” Fox cries, and his face screws up in pain while his hips jerk.
He writhes, his skin turns red, sweat trickles down his face…
And he moans.
Well. That was unexpected.
I turn the shock collar off, and Fox instantly falls flat onto the bed,
panting heavily.
Even some of the self-proclaimed masochists I’ve played with have
balked at the idea of electro-stim play on their genitals, and here I have a
captive assassin who’s getting off on what’s meant to be torture.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now? My cock has ideas, but letting
it do the thinking for me would get messy in all the wrong ways.
“You know,” I say, as casually as I can manage, “I’m the one who’s
supposed to be getting off on this. Not you.”
 Fox gives me a dazed look. “Then why are your pants still on? Can’t
use that cock of yours while it’s all covered up.”
I laugh at him, incredulous at his audacity. “You think I’m gonna fuck
you? You think awfully highly of yourself. I don’t fuck needy little twinks
who try to kill me.”
“But, Daddy, please,” Fox says, and he adds a moan. “You hurt me so
good.” Then he smiles. “Or whatever floats your boat. I’m just saying, it’s a
waste to collar me if you aren’t even going to fuck me. We’d both be blue-
balled for no fucking reason at all.”
“So let me get this straight,” I say, my voice dry. “Instead of using the
shock collar to punish you, I’m going to have to use it to reward you for
good behavior?”
“I mean, I’d rather no collar at all.” Fox tries to reach his cock with his
manacled hands, but the chains don’t extend that far. “And I don’t think the
shocks will help me heal. But that wasn’t too bad. I’ve dealt with worse.”
I shouldn’t be amused.
I shouldn’t be aroused.
“I can turn it up,” I say, barely resisting the urge to adjust my cock in
my pants as the idea of hurting him even more plays through my mind. I
just want to hear the sound of his moans, to hear him beg… to hear him call
me Daddy.
Fox makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a hiss. “Put it around
my neck, then. I’d rather not burn off the skin of my cock. Fuck, that did
hurt.”
“Good to know,” I say as I unwind the collar from around his limp cock.
It’s a pity it’s limp, because there are other things I’d have liked to do with
it otherwise. “Lift your head up so I can get this around your throat, pretty
fox.”
“Okay, Daddy,” Fox slurs, stretching out his neck. “Hey, while you’re at
it, can you stroke me a bit? Since I can’t reach.”
 “Who says you deserve that?” I ask, slapping his cock instead of
stroking it.
He bites his lip and stifles a groan. “What, you need me to… to buy you
dinner first?”
“I’m a proper gentleman. Normally, I’d be the one buying you dinner,” I
tell him, and this time I do give his cock a stroke—just one, before I
withdraw and wrap the collar around his throat. “This looks good on you.”
For a split second, Fox sneers. I’m taken aback by the expression, after
all the goading and bantering. But he catches himself and forces a smile.
“Yeah? Well, I’m either an expensive or a cheap date, depending on
whether you’re taking me out or just throwing me over a toilet seat. So
which is it?” Fox lifts his hips a bit and licks his lips. “My ass? My mouth?
Or are you going to unshackle me so we can go out for dinner like civilized
people?”
“But I don’t think you’re civilized,” I say, closing the little lock around
the latch with a soft click so it stays in place. I don’t think for one second
that he wouldn’t just remove it the second he could, and even the lock may
not be much of a deterrent. “Your back could probably use a break, though,
so I’ll extend the manacles so you can sit up.” I move to do just that,
extending his reach so he can sit up more easily. I probably should’ve put
him on his stomach to begin with, but that would’ve invited all sorts of
thoughts I don’t need to be having about my would-be killer.
Fox sits up and shakes out his arms a bit, wincing openly. “That is a bit
better.” He keeps his eyes fixed on me, and I don’t think it’s sexual interest.
He’s still wary, but I can’t say I blame him. I’m just as wary about him.
“Since we both decided neither of us had anything to do with… all of this,
where do you think we should start investigating? Like we’re buddy cops or
something.”
“I need to know more about who sent you to kill me,” I say bluntly.
“Yes, yes, assassin code, etc., etc., but how many people actually knew you
were going to try to kill me, let alone where you might’ve been in the
building?”
Fox reaches up to test the collar, but he doesn’t attempt to actually
remove it. “Nobody knew. I take jobs on my own. And no, I don’t actually
know who paid me. I got the deposit; they used the right codes. That’s all I
needed.”
“So someone’s had eyes on you, then,” I say slowly. “You didn’t notice
someone trailing you? Stalking you?” I guess I should have as well. My
pride hurts a little that I didn’t notice the set-up sooner, but it has to be
twice the blow for someone like Fox.
“No stalkers. I’d have noticed that.” Fox makes a disgusted expression.
“…They suggested the venue, though. I scoped it out before I committed, of
course, but the warehouse was a good spot—well protected, too far for
anybody to notice.” Then he meets my gaze. “What about you? Your
weapons deal was a bust too. Did you know the person you were supposed
to meet?”
“No,” I say, my voice clipped. “But the location… That’s mine. I own
that warehouse, and I sink a lot of money into making sure it stays a good
spot for trade-offs. It’s supposed to stay in my favor. I suppose we got
complacent.”
We both sit silently for a while. I’m trying to figure out who could have
betrayed me. One of my men, maybe? I guess it’s a good thing Fox ended
up killing half of the ones who attended yesterday. Of course, if they’d
rigged the building to blow, they wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the
warehouse.
Maybe I need to look into anyone who wasn’t there yesterday…
Fuck.
It’s a mess.
“Who did you piss off, anyway?” Fox asks. “Most people don’t get
hired hitmen sent after them. Not even most arms dealers.”
 “If I knew, I’d be having this conversation with them and not you,” I
point out. I shake my head. “I don’t go out of my way to piss people off.
I’m not a saint, but most people don’t want to kill me after meeting me.”
“Did you piss off any of the other mafia families?” Fox suggests. “Like,
uh… one of the Winters clan? Or maybe the Pavones.”
“The Winters have been quiet for months now,” I say, shaking my head.
“And I don’t deal with the sex trade. Only time the Pavones get involved is
if someone tries to fuck with their clubs.”
“Their clubs aren’t even any good,” Fox declares. “Nothing but naked
women. Not a single gay sex club in sight. Fucking homophobes.”
“Lots of those in our line of business,” I drawl. “I’m actually surprised
you’ve made it this far in this life, if you’re always this flamboyant.”
Fox manages to keep his expression neutral this time. “Yeah. That’s
why I work alone. And why most people who piss me off end up dead.” He
settles back against the headboard with a wince. “You’re gay too, aren’t
you? And you’ve got me chained up now. You definitely can’t explain this
away to your underlings or housekeeper.” He points down to his flaccid,
still exposed cock.
“My underlings and housekeeper have seen worse,” I say bluntly, for all
that I smile at him. “Especially when I decide to take a knife to the floppy
little cock of someone who’s being entirely unhelpful. Good thing you
haven’t been unhelpful so far… Oh wait.” I look pointedly at him.
Fox draws his legs a bit closer to himself, hiding his cock as best he can.
“Haven’t you tortured it enough? I’ll take the electroshock over the
knifeplay.” Then he chuckles. “Got enough slices in me already anyway.”
“I shocked it once,” I point out. “That’s… not even torture. That was an
experiment. I tried it on my arm, for fuck’s sake.”
“Yeah, and your arm isn’t hypersensitive.” He pauses with a loud sigh.
“Anyway, what are you planning to do with me? I can try to look into who
the bomber is, but not if I’m chained up here. All I’m good for right now is
a good, hard pounding.”
“And do you always get what you want?” I ask, quirking a brow at him.
“It sounds like a terrible thing, to be so spoiled.”
“Sounds like it’s good to be me,” Fox answers. He lets his legs fall apart
again, and with the newly loosened chain, he manages to get his hand
around his cock. “It seems like we both want the same thing, Daddy. Why
not have some fun with it? We fuck each other senseless, we track down our
bomber, we murder him and fuck in the pool of their blood…”
“You’re not even aroused,” I point out. “And I’m not gay. So why do
you think we have anything in common beyond finding out who wants us
dead?”
I’m genuinely curious, because it isn’t often that people clock me as
anything but straight.
I don’t expect him to burst out laughing.
“You’re not gay? Fuck off.” Fox covers his mouth with his hand to
muffle his laughter. “Do you actually believe that?”
“Why has no one ever heard of bisexuality?” I gripe as I close my
fingers around the remote so I can shock the hell out of him.
Fox convulses and groans at the pain. He clutches the sheets to steady
himself, and more sweat trails down his forehead.
He looks very, very good like that.
When the shock subsides, Fox sits there, panting, for a few moments.
“Dunno… dunno if you’re bi…” Fox says in between gasps. “But you
definitely want cock. And you…” He glances at my crotch. “You seem to
like seeing me suffer.”
“That means I’m a sadist, not gay,” I tell him, unable to keep the
amusement out of my voice. “I’d be just as happy if I had a woman in that
bed. Maybe even happier. Who knows?”
 “Sure.” Fox gives me a sly grin. “And that’s why you shocked me when
I suggested you might be gay.”
“I shocked you because it was fun.” I shrug. Just for good measure, I do
it again.
He moans again, stretching out his neck and parting his lips in a way I
know is meant to be seductive. He’s a manipulative little shit.
But he’s good at being a manipulative little shit, because my eyes are
drawn to his throat and the way he swallows around the pain.
“D-daddy… please…” Fox groans, his eyes fluttering shut.
Fuck, this is going straight to my cock. I don’t know what’s more
potent: the way he’s moaning, the way he’s positioned, or the way he says
the word Daddy.
It’s going to his cock too, though; he’s no longer flaccid. I wonder if it
would just take one more shock to get him to full hardness.
Fuck it.
I turn up the voltage and shock him again. He might end up wetting the
bed, but that’s why I’ve got someone on standby to clean up the messes.
Fox cries out again, his body convulsing a bit from the shock… but his
cock does get fully hard, and he starts to stroke himself through it all,
moaning and crying out in turn.
I turn off the current, and Fox slumps forward, whimpering, but still
palming his cock.
“I didn’t tell you you could touch yourself,” I say, stalking forward and
grabbing his wrist. I dig my fingernails into his skin and yank his hand
back, nearly crushing those delicate little fingers in the process.
“Fuck,” Fox growls, thrusting his hips up. “Fuck me, Daddy. Come on.”
“I don’t fuck on the first date, little fox,” I drawl, fingernails drawing
crescents into his skin. “And needy little boys don’t deserve to have their
greedy holes fucked, do they?”
 “Please, Daddy.” Fox slings his other arm across my shoulders, trying to
draw me closer. “Please, I do need it. You hurt me so nice. Please fuck me.”
“I could just keep shocking you until you pass out. You might be able to
come just from that, though,” I taunt, but I let him pull me closer—just a
little, because the last thing I need is to fall prey to some act that lets him
get his arms around my neck to fucking try to choke me or break my neck.
“Sure,” Fox says then, smiling widely. “Are you gonna fuck me after I
pass out? Will I wake up with a sloppy, sore hole?”
“If you don’t watch what you’re saying, you’re going to wake up with a
tanned ass,” I tell him. “With no relief whatsoever.”
“Sorry, Daddy.” Fox leans forward to suck on the exposed skin of my
neck. “Come on. Just fuck me, please. We both want it. I’ll be so tight for
you.”
This feels like another trap.
I pull back, eyeing him. I don’t trust him at all. Just because he gets off
on the shock collar doesn’t mean he’s really interested in sex with me. If I
give in, all I do is confirm to him that I like cocks as much as I like cunts—
which isn’t information I want him to have on me.
At the same time…
God, my cock is fucking aching, and I want to plunge it into the greedy
little bitch of an assassin who tried to kill me. To punish him for what he
tried to do. To show him that I don’t show any fucking mercy.
But he wants to be fucked. Wouldn’t giving in be merciful?
I draw back, running my hands through my hair, and I growl at him.
“Slut.”
“Yes,” Fox agrees, fumbling with his pants. He pushes them down as
much as he can, and I grab onto his briefs and pants so I can yank them
down to his feet and off of his lithe body. As soon as I do, Fox grins at me,
grabbing his knees and spreading his legs wide. “I spread my legs for
everybody who shows interest. But you’re the hottest so far.”
 “I’m sure you say that to everyone stupid enough to fall into your little
trap,” I mutter. I snatch out a condom and lube from the bedside table and
drop my pants and briefs, letting them fall to the floor so I can step out of
them. “But I’m glad you like what you see.”
“I don’t! Sometimes I’ll tell them how hideous they are, and they spank
me harder.” Fox laughs to himself, but his expression is a bit dazed, too.
He really is getting off on all of this.
The way his cock is leaking is another hint of just how into this he is.
This is stupid. This is really, really fucking stupid. Deadly creatures
come in different shapes and sizes, and Fox just happens to be in the
packaging of a really hot twink.
I kneel onto the bed anyway, lubing up my finger. “Spread wider,” I
snap at him, and he does, even going so far as to lift his ass in the air. He
winces as it forces his back harder against the bed, but it doesn’t stop him.
Fuck, he’s sexy, and he has no right to be.
This is going to complicate everything.
I shove two fingers into his ass, not giving him a chance to get used to
the feeling before I add a third. I’m not patient, especially with him driving
me crazy like this, and the little slut is getting off on this anyway.
For all that I am bi, I prefer men—which isn’t something I talk about.
New Bristol isn’t the most homophobic of places, but it isn’t the most open-
minded, either.
The sound of his moans of pleasure and discomfort alike are driving me
crazy. It’s been so long since I’ve had anything but pussy that the idea of
sinking into his ass makes me impatient.
He squeezes his ass around my fingers, as if trying to draw them in
farther, and I can only imagine how it’s going to feel when it’s my cock in
there.
“Daddy, please,” Fox moans, his eyes fluttering closed. He sounds more
earnest this time, less like he’s trying to goad me.
 He does want this, and I’m not sure what to make of that.
“Please what, little fox?” I taunt him, using my fingers to stretch him
out even more.
“Please fuck me. I need you.” Fox tries to reach down for his cock
again.
I slap the hand away. “Hands above your head,” I growl. “Keep them
where I can see them.”
Fox gasps and arches his back, but he obeys, gripping the bar of the
headboard. One of the chains attached to his wrist manacle drapes over his
chest, and fuck, he looks gorgeous like that.
If it wasn’t for the fact that this situation was so dire, I’d be tempted just
to keep him there, chained to my bed where I can watch him writhe and
hear him beg for more. It’s been so long—too long—since I’ve been this
viscerally attracted to someone.
Of course it had to be to a fucking assassin.
I shove that knowledge to the back of my mind, ignoring it, and I crawl
up onto the bed as I pull my fingers out of him with an obscene pop. I let
out a slow, shuddering breath, and as much as I want to rush this… It’s been
a while, and I’d like to enjoy it, too.
Fox whines and clenches his ass enticingly. “Please, stuff me. Please
please please.” He tries to hook one leg around my waist, but I grip both his
thighs and push them higher up.
Fuck, it’s so sexy to have him so needy for me. I may have said I don’t
cater to needy boys, but there’s something about Fox that makes me want to
give in.
So I do what any reasonable but slightly insane man would: I unwrap
the condom with a viciousness that’s not entirely necessary and slide it onto
my cock, slicking it up.
Without warning, without any more waiting, I line up my cock with his
hole and thrust inside.
 Fox cries out and meets my thrust, throwing his head back in pleasure.
His mouth is slightly open, sweat is building on his forehead, and I can see
him swallow hard.
I memorize all these little details. I need to know what makes him tick,
how to drive him absolutely wild.
“Come on, Daddy,” Fox says after a moment. “Fuck me hard.”
I can’t help but love the way he calls me Daddy in the throes of passion.
The request to fuck him hard is easy to oblige, because my cock is
throbbing and I’m just as fucking needy as he is. I want more, so much
more.
It’s difficult at first; he’s still tight, clenching around me, and I have to
force my way into him. Even with the lube, it’s a struggle. “When was the
last time you got fucked, little fox?” I grunt as I finally bottom out inside of
him and pause to give him a brief moment to get used to the feeling.
He laughs between moans. “Maybe you’re just really big.” He squeezes
again, as if trying to draw my cock in deeper. “Fuck, that’s good. Go hard,
Daddy.”
I roll my eyes. I’m not small, but I’m not massive, either. I definitely
don’t need someone to stroke my ego. I don’t really care how long it’s been.
I’m curious, maybe, because it’d be interesting to know how often an
assassin lets down his guard enough to get intimate with someone.
My partners are usually tied up, so this is nothing new.
“Won’t that hurt your poor little back?” I taunt him, slowly
withdrawing.
Fox whines again and tries to follow my cock. “Like it’s not already
hurting? Keep going, keep going.”
He’s going to keep me on my toes, I find myself thinking—which is
ridiculous, because after we find out who set us up, we’ll never see each
other again.
 I start to thrust, teasing him by going slowly, carefully, and it’s only
when his pleas get truly desperate that I give him what he wants. I start to
fuck into him more intently, my hips driving my cock into him over and
over. His back will be a bloody mess by the time I’m done, but he doesn’t
seem to care—and the scent of blood in the air only entices me further.
Fuck, how long has it been since I’ve been with a real painslut?
Since I’ve been able to let go the way I want to, without having to
worry about following rules and boundaries?
Fox mewls and keeps expertly tightening his ass, getting me to the brink
of orgasm faster than any other partner has in years.
Or even ever, which isn’t something I’d ever admit to him—or anyone.
Maybe I just need to get out more.
I don’t care about any of that, though, as I force my way into him again
and again until I tense, my thrusts becoming more and more demanding—
more and more erratic—and I grab his cock to pump it a few times as I spill
into the condom.
Fox moans and lets go of the headboard to reach for his cock once
more. I growl and grab his wrist harshly.
“No,” I say, squeezing. “I’m the one who chooses when you come.”
“Please, Daddy,” he cries out. “Please. I’m so close.”
“Good. I want you to stay close,” I tell him, breathless and harsh. “I
want to keep you on the edge until you can’t take it anymore. Can you do
that for Daddy?”
I keep stroking him, all while my balls feel like they’re emptying more
than they ever have. It’s a shame I had to use a condom; I’d have loved to
spill directly into his ass. But no. I’m acting like an idiot, but that doesn’t
mean I have to completely disregard my own safety.
Fox sobs and shakes his head. “No, please. Daddy, I need it.” He blinks
rapidly at me, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say those were tears in his
eyes.
 “What do you need?” I demand. “Tell me exactly what you need, boy,
and maybe I’ll give it to you.” I keep slowly stroking him, backing off
every time I think he’s on the verge of losing control.
It’s really a fucking pity I left the remote to his shock collar in my pants
pocket.
“I need to come,” he whines. “Daddy, please touch me more.”
I groan, and I can’t stand it either. I’m starting to soften, and I want to
feel his entire body plummet into the depths of sheer pleasure before I
withdraw from him completely. I stroke him harder, faster, whispering,
“Come, little fox. Come for Daddy.”
Fox cries out and convulses, spilling all over my hand and even onto his
own stomach. I can feel him squeeze even tighter around me.
If I were ten years younger, it might have been enough to get me hard
all over again, but I’m pushing forty and it’s not that easy anymore.
I let go of his cock and bend over him, gripping his chin and forcing a
harsh kiss on him. He’s still moaning, lips parted, and he offers no
resistance as I plunge my tongue inside and ravage him thoroughly.
By the time I break away from the kiss, I’m having a hard time
breathing. It’s so much, too much. I’ve had some pretty good scenes at the
club, but I don’t usually fuck the people I play with there. I whip them,
sure; I like spanking them as well. But fucking? No.
I guess the only reason I let myself go like this is because Fox is
chained to my bed. It would serve me right if he managed to get free while I
was taking him so hard, when my guard was down, but he just collapses
back down on the bed when I pull out of him with a slight mewl of pain.
For several long moments, we’re both simply panting hard, recovering.
Then Fox reaches up to scratch at his chin. “You got cum all over my
face.”
I blink at him, then realize I ran my cum-stained hand all over his chin
and throat. “It suits you.” I smirk. “I don’t think this will be the last time
you have cum on your face, though next time it’ll probably be mine. Would
you lick it away like the little slut you are?”
Fox groans and says, “Yes, Daddy.”
Daddy. Damn. I can’t let myself get used to it. He’ll be gone in a flash
when this is resolved.
But fuck, I’ll enjoy it in the meantime.
“Get some rest, little fox,” I tell him, standing up. “I’ll send someone in
to, ah, dress your wounds again.”
And probably get bitched at for reopening them, but I’ll take it.
It was absolutely fucking worth it.
CHAPTER FOUR
 FOX

“I still don ’ t think this is necessary,” I say, raising up my bound wrists.

“You’ve got the shock collar on me.”
Cristiano snorts at me. “You’re lucky I didn’t cuff them behind your
back.” He pats the spot next to him on the couch.
Part of me wants to fight him, but I know there’s no point right now.
And as good as the sex was, even a day later my back is still reminding me
that it was a bad fucking idea.
My cock and hole disagree, but they aren’t the ones throbbing in pain.
Well, not much pain.
I settle in next to him, and just to spite him, I cuddle up right up against
his side. “I didn’t figure you for the kind to relax with your… reluctant
allies… in front of the TV.”
“What else do you suggest we do?” Cristiano asks, quirking his brows.
“Go for a walk in the park? Make ourselves bigger targets?” He shakes his
head. “No. My people are working on gathering information, and that takes
time. At least I’m not leaving you in my torture room all alone.”
If I were alone, maybe I could attempt to undo the collar, or at least the
manacles. I’d be going over everything I know in my head, trying to figure
out whodunnit, except I know fucking nothing and don’t have a chance of
figuring anything out until I get into contact with Corbin and…
 Maybe the couch is better after all.
“So what are we watching?” I ask, attempting to reach for the remote.
Cristiano deftly keeps it out of my reach and starts flipping through all
his streaming options. “There’s a new documentary on identifying
psychopaths,” he drawls. “Maybe that would be interesting to you.”
I snort and suppress a smile. “Nah, I already know how to do that. Got
one sitting right next to me, don’t I?”
He’s been affable, almost warm, but I can see it in his eyes. He’s
playing the good guy right now, but the second things turn against him…
No. He’s not going to play around.
He chuckles. “Pay attention and be a good student. Sociopaths are the
ones who get caught, little fox, unless they’re working with a talented
psychopath.” He smiles at me. “So I wonder… Who’s keeping you in line?”
I shrug and regret the movement immediately. My back does not
appreciate that, but I swallow my wince. “I’m just a wild fox. Doing what I
can to get by.”
Cristiano finally lands on some home improvement show. The couple is
just finding out that repairs are going to be another thirty grand beyond
what they’d budgeted, and Cristiano tsks. “They should’ve known better.
That thing should’ve been torn to the ground and rebuilt.”
I roll my eyes. “Sure, if they have an extra million lying around and can
be certain they don’t need to have extensive talks with the county about
new building permits.” After a pause, I add, “But they should definitely not
have gone with that tile. What the fuck is that?”
“The tile isn’t as bad as the color of the cabinets,” he replies
thoughtfully.
I don’t know how, but we end up spending the rest of the hour analyzing
the home renovations. I find out that Cristiano knows a lot more about
architecture than I would’ve imagined, and he has very strong feelings
about houses that don’t have garages, of all things.
 “Sometimes you just don’t want a driveway,” I point out. “Especially
around here. Fuck shoveling snow.”
“If you have a garage, you don’t have to shovel your car out of the
snow,” Cristiano huffs. “And it’s easier to get the car warmed up. I—” He
stops, but doesn’t tense, when he hears footsteps coming in from the
hallway. Heels, from the sound of it.
My instinct says to get into a defensive position, as much as that’s
possible with my wrists bound in front of me. But I decide, fuck that. I’m
comfortable where I am, and if Cristiano’s got a problem with people seeing
him cuddling with a man, then he should have thought about all of that
before bringing me out here.
I kind of want to see just how Cristiano reacts, too.
I’m more than familiar with people who act one way in private, and
another in public.
Someone I’d peg around five-foot-ten enters, though some of that height
can be attributed to the heels on their feet. Their hair is long, well past their
shoulders, and falls in soft, artfully styled waves. Clad as they are in a loose
blouse and expensive-looking trousers, it’s hard to tell much more about
them.
“Briar,” Cristiano greets, sitting up more but not moving away from me.
Briar’s eyes, gold-green like a cat’s, narrow when they land on me. “Oh,
so it wasn’t bad enough that you got the bed bloody. You had to bring him
out here and get the couch bloody, too?”.
“Yep. Sorry,” I say sarcastically. “Daddy just couldn’t keep his hands
off me.” I raise my cuffed hands to rest them against Cristiano’s chest.
“At least I didn’t have to shoot him,” Cristiano says, his voice mild.
“Then you’d have been stuck cleaning up brain matter as well, and I know
how much you hate that.”
The housekeeper, then, though I don’t know what kind of housekeeper
runs around in heels and expensive blouses.
 “Briar, this is Fox. Fox, Briar. Fox is my reluctant guest; Briar is my
eager, talented, and wonderful housekeeper,” Cristiano says. “If you think
they’ll be sympathetic to your plight, you’re wrong.”
“I had zero expectations from Briar,” I answer glibly, eyeing Briar.
There’s a little bit of muscle on their arms, and while I am fairly sure I’d
be able to take them in a fair fight, I’m not exactly in a state to test that out.
I do know that I want them out of the room already. “Anyway, Daddy
and I were watching a show, so…” I trail off, hoping they get the hint.
Briar smiles at me, not even bothering to try to make it look genuine.
“Oh, that’s cute. Daddy Cristiano.”
“Shove it, Briar,” Cristiano says. “Anything new? Or are you ready to
get to the scrubbing toilets part? You seem perfectly dressed for work
today.”
“Yeah, well.” Briar sighs and drops the fake smile. “You got some mail
that could have been quite unfortunate. White powder is never a good sign.
I think it’s been sitting in the mailbox for a while though. I never thought
I’d be glad that you keep forgetting to check your mail.”
That draws my attention. That’s a second attempt on his life. “When did
you last check your mail?” I ask Cristiano.
He grimaces. “I don’t know. It’s been stressful, all right? Look, I got
busy with the half-dead twink in my guest room.”
“So we have no way of knowing if it arrived before or after the whole
warehouse incident,” I say, groaning. “We should check my mail drop box
to see if I have any fun presents.”
“Briar can check it,” Cristiano says. Before I can protest, he continues,
“You’ll have to change its location, codes, keys, everything. You’ve been
compromised, and there’s no sense in continuing to put yourself at risk. If
people know how to find you for other jobs, they’ll still be able to find
you.”
He’s right, but that doesn’t help with the bigger problem.
 “They can’t,” I say, gritting my teeth. “There’s a person who watches it.
If anybody but me shows up to get mail, they’re in for a bad time.”
A bad time, and then some, before that bad time comes for me.
Fuck.
“Someone or something?” Briar asks, their eyes narrowing. “We have
people who can deal with traps and most threats.”
“This isn’t most threats,” I answer, and for some reason, I try to get
closer to Cristiano. “Never mind. Leave it alone. We’ll focus on who’s
trying to kill—” I almost say Daddy, “Cristiano.”
“And you,” Cristiano points out, wrapping an arm around me. I don’t
think he intends to. It feels more like a reflex, because he tenses after he
does it like he just realized what he’d done. He leaves his arm around me,
though. “Because this wasn’t an accident. Someone was trying to kill you as
well, Fox.”
“Well, we could solve the problem of at least one person trying to kill
you if we take care of… Fox,” Briar says. “We could make an example.”
I sneer at them. “Yeah? Who’s it an example for? You don’t even know
where you’d have to send my body. And you’d also be doing half their job
for them since I’m one of the targets too.”
“Let’s not get hasty,” Cristiano says, and I think I feel a slight tightening
of his arm around my waist. “Keeping Fox alive and on our side proves
more than simply killing him.”
Briar scowls back at me, and I don’t miss the way their eyes flick
between Cristiano and me. “For now. Once we take care of whoever’s
targeting him, he’ll just try to kill you anyway.”
I roll my eyes. “The only reason I tried to kill him was for the money. I
get the feeling that deal is off, so… I don’t care if he stays alive. I’m an
assassin, not a serial killer.”
“And if somehow Fox gets another offer on my life, he’s going to come
to me so I can counter that offer,” Cristiano says as amicably as if we’ve
discussed this at some point.
Briar’s eyes narrow.
I smile at Briar. “You see? Daddy and I have it all worked out. Why
don’t you focus on the important things instead?”
Like who the fuck would mail something dangerous to Cristiano? It’d
be a lot easier to investigate all this if I had access to my own resources, but
I’m not going to tell either of these two who I am.
I don’t think it’d be a good idea for Cristiano and Corbin to meet,
anyway.
My hands clench against Cristiano’s shirt.
Briar doesn’t seem to miss it, though they only give a shake of their
head and run their hand through their hair. “Then I’ll work on cleaning up. I
asked… one of the guys to look into the mail situation for you.”
I notice their hesitation, probably an attempt to keep me from learning
the name of whoever they’re talking about. Not like it makes much of a
difference to me. If I need to know who it is, I can find out…
…once I’m with Corbin again.
But I don’t want to see him yet. My back is still too cut up.
I wonder if he thinks I'm dead.
I wonder if I want him to believe that I am.
“Thank you,” Cristiano says. He sighs, glancing back at the television,
where another episode of the home renovation show is playing. “As much
as I’d love to lie low for a few days, I should get back out there. It’s too
dangerous to have people wondering if something happened to me. I’ll go
out to the club tonight and put in an appearance.”
“Club?” I ask, sitting up straighter. “What club? Is it safe?”
Cristiano looks at me, and I find that I like the way his eyes crinkle
around the corners when he smiles. He lets go of me, too, though, which I
don’t like as much. “Club Alpha,” he says. “It’s safe enough. I’ll bring a
few of my guys, and I’ll leave someone with you as well.”
 Club Alpha is one of the BDSM clubs in New Bristol. I’ve never been,
mostly because I can’t stand all the fucking rules and talking they expect at
those places. They sound kinky and risqué, but mostly they’re dull. What’s
the point of a rough fuck if you have to check in every five seconds to make
sure the other person didn’t get a scratch?
That doesn’t change the fact that it is a sex club, though, and it’s the
perfect place for somebody to try another attack on Cristiano. Nobody
would suspect the leather-clad, whip-wielding kinkster of being an assassin
in disguise, out to strangle somebody with that whip.
Okay, nobody who frequents the club would suspect it. The rest of the
world would be quick to point fingers.
“I’m going with you,” I say. “I don’t want to hang around here with a
babysitter.”
“Absolutely not,” Cristiano says, shaking his head. “You’ll stay here
where it’s safe. You can’t go out with your back like that anyway.”
“Not with how much of a fucking mess it makes,” Briar mutters beneath
their breath. I ignore them.
“I’ll pop some ibuprofen. It’s really not that bad.” I sit up properly and
wiggle my shoulders a bit, smiling through the pain. “See?”
“I can see you cringing,” Cristiano says, deadpan, even though I know
perfectly well he can’t see any such thing because I’m more than capable of
existing and continuing through my pain.
“Besides, there’s somebody inside your team who betrayed you. Do you
know who the mole is? It could be one of the bodyguards you want to leave
me with. I sure as fuck don’t want to be a sitting duck for them.” I bare my
throat at him, making the shock collar dig into my neck. “You might as well
slit my throat yourself if you’re going to leave me here on my own.”
“I wouldn’t leave you with someone I couldn’t trust,” Cristiano says,
but he knows as well as I do that trust isn’t cut and dry when you’re in this
business. “Fine. But if you start to try to signal for help, just know the
police will be involved. This isn’t a typical mafia shithole. You don’t want
to draw attention to us.”
Like I don’t already know how precarious my situation is. As much as I
hate it, I’m probably safest at Cristiano’s side right now. He has incentive to
keep me alive, and I can lick my wounds in relative peace here.
“Got it.” I start to get up, but Cristiano pulls me back down against his
side. I look at him. “What? Don’t we have to get ready for our date?”
“It’s still early in the evening,” Cristiano says. “Briar is going to fix us
something for dinner, then we’re going to get ready and head out. Slowly.
You don’t need to push yourself any harder than you have to.”
Briar gives him the evil eye but nods. “On it.” They give me one last
disdainful look then leave the living room.
Cristiano sighs.
“Did you fuck them?” I ask, looking toward the kitchen. “Or are they
just pining for you for no reason?”
Cristiano stares at me for a moment, then shakes his head. “Neither.
Briar’s just protective of me. They don’t like that I’ve brought someone
who tried to kill me into my bed, that’s all.”
“Is it even any fun if you haven’t tried to kill each other at least once?” I
ask, smirking widely. I lean in closer to him and kiss the underside of his
jaw. “Come on, Daddy. You gotta admit, it’s a lot better when it’s rough.”
Cristiano grabs hold of me by the hair and pulls me back so I can’t
reach the scruff on his chin any longer. “I didn’t give you permission to
touch me, little fox,” he says mildly, locking eyes with me.
“What are you going to do about it?” I lick my lips suggestively. “Shock
me some more? Spank me? Open up all my wounds so I make another mess
for Briar to clean up?”
“Stick you back in the room and leave you alone in there,” Cristiano
says, smirking back at me. He tightens his grip on my hair. “I initiate, not
you.”
 I groan, stretching my neck farther. The pinpricks of pain in my hair are
very, very nice, and my cock twitches.
“Daddy…” I gasp, struggling a little just to feel his grip tighten.
Instead of giving me what I want, though, he lets go. “That’s enough of
that. Briar’s making a nice meal for us. It wouldn’t be very polite of us to be
occupied when it’s finished, now would it?”
I groan and slump forward. “Yeah, fine. I’m starving anyway.” I hold up
my bound hands. “How am I supposed to eat, though?”
“Well,” Cristiano says, his eyes raking slowly over me. “Either you’ll
have to prove to me that I can trust you to feed yourself… or I’ll have to
feed you. Right now, I don’t think I trust you enough to unbind your
hands.”
I part my lips for him. “You want me to sit at your feet, too, so I take
scraps from your hand?”
As soon as I suggest it, my cock throbs. Fuck, that shouldn’t sound so
hot. I barely know Cristiano. I tried to kill him. I need to be working on
getting the fuck out of here.
And yet.
From the way he’s looking at me, he’s having the same sort of reaction.
His eyes are dark with need and desire alike, though he doesn’t let it seep
into his voice as he replies, “Of course. Where else would a needy little fox
sit?”
“He’s sitting at the table,” Briar suddenly announces. “Because I made
spaghetti for all of us. Just give him a bit of leeway with his hands so he can
handle a plastic fork.”
I turn to glare at them. They must have done that on purpose, just to
spoil my fun.
Cristiano rolls his eyes as he gets up. “I’m going to set you up on
another blind date just so I can ruin it when things start going well,” he
says.
 Briar scoffs at him. “Since when do blind dates ever go well?
Checkmate, boss daddy. Get your ass to the table if you want to eat.”
I take Cristiano’s offered hand, ignoring the pain in my back, and let
him lead me to a boring dish of spaghetti and sauce, seated properly at a
table.
The other version sounded so much more fun.
CHAPTER FIVE
 CRISTIANO

F ox can ’ t be comfortable , but imagining his discomfort has my cock

hard in my pants. I can’t help but flash a smirk at him, one he returns with a
dark look, and I chuckle. I check in at the front, powering down my phone
and tucking it away so I’m not distracted, and I introduce Fox as my “plus
one.”
Jeremy, who’s seen me here for years, blinks at Fox but doesn’t offer
any commentary as he puts our respective wristbands on—mine, for
dominant; Fox’s, for taken, though I don’t know if Fox understands the
color coding of this particular club.
“Come on,” I say, leading Fox inside. “The sooner we get this over
with, the sooner we can get that cage off your cock.” My smirk gets even
bigger. “Or you can leave it on forever. You know. It’s really up to you.
Consequences of your actions and all that.”
It’s only a shame I’d had to take the collar off. His throat looks bare
now. Especially since he’s wearing a dark t-shirt along with tight leather
pants that show off his ass beautifully.
It’s tight enough to hint at what’s going on underneath his pants, too.
Fox bares his teeth at me for a second. “Don’t worry, Daddy. I’ll
behave.” His eyes begin scanning the room. It’s set up a bit like a bar, with
only one public play space. There are plenty of private rooms for people
who want to get a bit more hot and heavy.
And of course, some people are wearing chains and kneeling or
crawling, even out here.
Fox’s eyes catch on one of the women sitting at the feet of a man. He
looks down at his wristband, then back to her.
“Awfully presumptuous of the clerk,” Fox says. “What if I didn’t want
this color?”
“You’re my guest,” I say, as though I had nothing to do with the
selection of the bracelet. “At least I didn’t give you a submissive tag.
Everyone would’ve been all over you then.” I’d have had to fend them off,
of course, because no one is touching Fox but me.
The possessiveness is strange, but I can’t help it. For as long as I’m
keeping him, he’s going to be mine.
“Yeah?” Fox leans in close to me and wraps his arms around my neck.
“Then why aren’t you wearing the same color as me? Since you’re also
taken? Or are you going to cheat on me, Daddy?”
“With the first person I see,” I say without missing a beat. “Hello,
Heather.”
The dark-haired submissive smiles up at me, “Hello, sir.” She looks
curiously at Fox, and I can’t blame her for wondering what’s going on. I
don’t think I’ve ever brought a man with me, and I’ve never left with one.
I’ve occasionally taken one to the private rooms for a session, but the fact
that I’m bisexual can’t be a very open secret.
New Bristol is a bitch that way.
Fox only steps in closer to me, resting his head against my shoulder and
wrapping his arms around my chest possessively. “Hmm. No wonder you
moved on, if these are the kind of people you played with before.”
Heather’s never been the type to play nicely with others, and her eyes
flash dangerously at the comment. “Your submissive isn’t very friendly,”
she says with a frown that makes her full lips look somehow less appealing.
“You know how the clingy ones are,” I say, my voice dry—like I’m not
talking to one of the clingiest subs at Club Alpha. I pat one of Fox’s hands.
“Is Peter here yet? Business before pleasure, I’m afraid.”
Heather pouts at me, but she nods. “I saw him with Linda. Silvano and
Dan are with him too. It looked like Linda was going to have a very good
night.” She motions toward one of the more private areas of the club.
“Sorry for Linda, but I’m gonna have to cut her fun short,” I say.
“Maybe the two of you can find solace in each other’s arms.”
“She won’t even try to pick up a flogger,” Heather says with an
exaggerated sigh. “I’ll just wait for you to finish up.”
“Yep. Run along now.” Fox makes a shooing motion. “And don’t bother
coming back. I’ll keep Daddy plenty busy on my own.”
Heather’s brows arch. “Daddy?”
“It’s a long story,” I say, trying for exasperation but mostly sounding
amused. “Go on, Heather.”
She must finally get the hint because she backs off, bowing her head to
me before vanishing into the crowd.
I take one of Fox’s hands off of me and use it to twist him so he’s fully
facing me, flush against my chest. “Someone’s being awfully bold,” I tell
Fox. “Are you trying to make things difficult for me, little fox?”
“Why would I do that?” Fox answers cheekily. “Do you really want to
get down and dirty with random people right now? You don’t know who’s
got what hidden in unknown holes.”
“Are you always this possessive, or did I just pull the short straw?” I ask
him.
Fox averts his gaze. “Do you always tie up and fuck half-dead twinks?”
His reaction surprises me, and I touch his chin, guiding his face back so
I can look at him. The moment feels heavy for some reason, and I reply
quietly, “No.” This is just as new to him as it is to me then. “Just the lucky
ones,” I add to try to lighten the mood. “Come on.” I let go of him.
He’s quiet as I lead him towards my… not friends, not really, but we’re
all part of the Cresci Crime Family.
Brothers-in-arms, if you consider the mob akin to an army.
“Don’t act out with these people,” I hiss as we get closer. “They won’t
be as friendly as Heather.”
Fox nods, and his hands are strangely stiff at his sides. “Yeah. I do know
that.”
I eye him. I’m sure he does, at least in theory, but at the same time… He
didn’t know that Heather wasn’t someone important. He could’ve started
something back there, and pushing forward, I have to make sure he’s aware
of the consequences of his actions before he fucks up. “Is anyone going to
recognize you?” I ask him quietly, approaching the doorway.
“No.” Fox runs a hand through his hair. “I never meet with anyone in
person.” He answers so smoothly that I want to believe him, but I know
he’s a practiced liar.
It’s too late to change anything now, though.
Maybe it would be better if he waited out here, but despite how I’ve
caged up his cock as a bit of insurance, I know it isn’t a foolproof plan. He
could still get into trouble while I’m not looking.
I notice a few of the other people with the “dominant” wrist bands
eyeing him.
Yeah, he could definitely get into trouble.
“Then I’ll introduce you,” I say, while also putting a bit of distance
between us.
I only knock briefly beside the archway before I head past the curtains
and into the private seating area.
Like Heather had said, Peter is here, with Linda—a pretty Latina
woman with black hair in a pixie cut—sitting on his lap. Dan is sitting close
enough to touch, while Silvano is at the edge of the rounded booth, sipping
from a whiskey glass.
Silvano spots me first, raising his glass at me. As usual, he’s wearing a
tailored pair of slacks and a fine dress shirt, even here. The only concession
to the casual nature of the club is the lack of jacket and tie. “Cristiano! I
didn’t think you’d be here today. Word was that you were busy with some
overseas deal.”
Dan stares at me a little longer than necessary, and if I was a paranoid
man, I’d think there was something to it. The lights have him all washed out
as it is, so it’s hard to really see his reactions.
“Not today, I’m afraid.” I smile at Linda. “My apologies, lovely lady,
but I need to speak to these men in private. If you’ll find Heather, I’m sure
she’ll get you a drink.”
Linda frowns at me, but Peter nods and claps her ass to shoo her away.
Once she’s past the curtains, I head over to the table. Fox stays where he is,
stance tense.
“Who’s he?” Dan asks, pointing at Fox.
“One of my new staff,” I answer smoothly. “I’m training him up, so I
figured bringing him here would be an easy job to ease him in.”
It’s the story Fox and I had agreed on, and Fox certainly manages to
look like he’s attempting to be a bodyguard.
Silvano snorts. “Isn’t he a bit skinny for it? Anybody who goes for him
will snap him in half.”
That draws a wicked smile out of Fox. “Sure, they can try. But it turns
out, even three-hundred-pound men are susceptible to bullets.” He casts a
deliberate look at Dan, who is not quite 300 pounds but still has a lot of heft
to him, and Dan flushes in anger.
Silvano laughs in response. “Okay, that’s true. I’m Silvano Cresci.
What’s your name? I don’t like talking to strangers.”
“Fox Taylor,” Fox responds.
 I wonder how often he uses that last name, since he said it so easily
despite it not being an aspect we’d discussed. But he’s probably very good
at thinking on the fly, and I assume he has a few extra identities lying
around for just this sort of occasion.
“So, Fiore, why’d you drive off my bit of fun for the night?” Peter asks.
“In front of the boss, no less! I was gonna have Linda blow him.”
I glance at Peter, studying him for a moment. Silvano is the boss’s son,
not the boss, unless something else has changed in the days I’ve been
recovering. But no. Silvano looks too relaxed to have newly transitioned
into power, and I’m sure someone would’ve let me know if his father met
an unfortunate demise as well.
Wouldn’t that be an interesting turn of events?
Silvano makes a dismissive gesture. The movement reminds me of how
he used to hold cigarettes, back when he smoked. “I don’t need your
leftovers, Peter. I wasn’t really looking for anything tonight anyway. Just
wanted to get away from my father.”
“This is the best place to go for distraction,” I agree. “Even if you do
have to spend it looking at our ugly faces instead of Linda’s cunt. I won’t
take long.”
Dan keeps looking at me and Fox, until he catches me staring back at
him in turn.
“Problem?” I ask.
“Nope.” Dan scratches his beard nervously. “Don’t you usually come
out on Thursdays? It’s not really your day. Now I’m gonna have to compete
with you for bitches.”
“I can’t help it that they prefer someone who actually knows how to use
a flogger,” I say with a wolfish smile. “Heather’s needy tonight. Maybe
even needy enough to say yes to you.”
Very doubtful. She has taste sometimes, and I know for a fact Dan
doesn’t know how to wield a whip well enough for her.
 “Regardless,” I go on, “I wanted to see how things were while I was…
out of town.”
Silvano snorts. “You worried I wasn’t taking care of things just the right
way? I took care of things with Laszlo, don’t worry. And those Russian
friends of yours have been very generous. They dropped off a bottle of
vodka for you, if you want it. It’s back at the mansion.”
My allies shouldn’t be giving Silvano any gifts for me, and we both
know it. Though we both belong to the Cresci family, that doesn’t mean we
share our clients and deals. I know Silvano has been trying to establish his
own ties with the Russians, but he needs to do that without using me as a
fucking middleman.
“Keep it. Think of me when you drink it, and of how generous I am
with my liquor and my friends,” I tell Silvano with a brittle smile.
Silvano takes another sip from his glass, a slight smirk playing on his
lips. “Thanks. Maybe I can serve it the next time we’re all together again.”
His gaze ends up on Fox again. I have to resist the urge to stand protectively
in front of Fox—and it isn’t like Fox needs my protection. Yeah, he’s
skinny, but I saw how he handled himself at the warehouse.
Peter coughs, breaking the tension between us. “It’s good to see you
though, Fiore. We’ve got some new deals lined up, and the Boss wants to
move forward with the whole Mexico thing.”
I nod and motion for him to continue, listening as he outlines, in vague
wording, our next steps in our deals with one of the Mexican cartels. Fox
stands at attention the entire time, doing an admirable job of pretending to
be a bodyguard.
I notice Dan sweating more than is warranted in this nicely air-
conditioned room, and he keeps glancing at me before averting his gaze.
“Dan, you have any opinions?” I ask, just to catch him off balance.
Dan startles and looks at me stupidly. “Um… oh, yeah, uh… Don Leone
probably… I mean, we can probably get a higher payout. Because, um…”
 Silvano makes a disgusted noise. “Just spit it out. We don’t have all
day.”
“Yeah. I just meant, I heard there’s been a lot of official pressure in
Mexico and Don Leone’s in the crosshairs. He might need more from us
than we do from him.” Dan grips his drink, downs it, then stands up. “Sorry.
I just remembered; I promised my Carlita I’d be home for… sex.”
“So people still have sex at your age?” I ask him dryly, very interested
in the fact that he’s flustered enough to come up with such a ridiculous
excuse to need to depart.
Peter barks out a laugh. “An inspiration to us all!” he says, lifting his
drink in a mockery of a toast.
“Fuck off,” Dan says. “She’s ‘in the mood’ maybe twice a year. I gotta
take advantage of it when I can.”
I’m not nearly as amused as I pretend to be. The way Dan’s acting has
my hackles up.
“I guess he shouldn’t be the only one getting laid,” I drawl. “Good to
see you, Peter, Silvano. Give the boss my regards. I’ll drop by in a few
days, once I get a few deals ironed out.”
“Sure. Send Linda back in if you see her!” Peter says, waving as I leave.
Silvano only raises his glass.
Fox follows me back past the curtains and into the main hall. Once
we’re reasonably far away, I ask, “What did you think?”
“I think somebody didn’t expect to see you alive,” Fox murmurs quietly.
“But… no, never mind.”
My attention is fully on him. “Tell me,” I order him. “If you have
thoughts on this, I need to know about them.”
Fox suddenly tenses and puts a hand on me, using leverage to get me
behind him faster than I have time to react.
A pretty, blond man in a mesh shirt stands opposite of us. “Hey, Cris. I
thought you didn’t play with men.”
 The nickname is enough to make bile rise up in my throat, but I force a
smile onto my lips. “Luke,” I say. “I’m here for business, not pleasure. This
is my new bodyguard, Fox.”
“Bodyguard,” Luke repeats, a smile slowly stretching across his lips as
he looks Fox up and down. “That’s not what Heather said, Daddy.”
Well, fuck.
CHAPTER SIX
 FOX

T his L uke isn ’ t a physical threat, as far as I can tell. He doesn’t have a
fighter’s stance, and even if he were simply affecting a helpless demeanor, I
would probably be able to take him in a fight.
Well, on a good day, when my back isn’t aching and begging me to take
more ibuprofen.
But I can see the way he’s eyeing Cristiano, and it’s not the look of
somebody who wants to take him down. No, he wants to get pounded hard.
I grin coldly at him. “Yeah. I’m just so good, I won him over to my
side.” I run my hand over Cristiano’s chest seductively.
Cristiano’s breath hitches just enough to give away the fact that I’m
having an effect on him, which only makes my grin turn into a smirk.
“Gentlemen,” he says. “This is no place for a pissing contest.”
He grips my wrist to force my hand down, but that tight grip isn’t
exactly discouraging. I bite my lip seductively and moan quietly. “Where do
you suggest, Daddy?”
Cristiano shoots a glare at me—one I ignore, and one that only gets
Luke to take a step closer to us. “The two of you need to stop this right
now,” he begins sternly, but another look between the two of us seems to
tell him what I already know: neither of us is going to back down. “Get into
the first private room that’s open,” he growls. “I didn’t come here to
discipline a pair of ill-behaved pets, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do it.”
Rationally, I know it’s a bad idea. My back needs a break, we haven’t
discussed what we’ve just heard, Silvano Cresci and Peter Boyce are still in
the other room, and who knows where Dan is right now.
But I don’t care about any of that. I smile as I let Cristiano drag me to
the closest room, Luke hot on our heels. Cristiano shoves me inside and
locks the door behind the three of us.
I glance around, noting the generic BDSM equipment in the room. I
don’t need specific tools or implements to get off—or to show Luke that
Cristiano is mine.
“Now what the fuck is going on, Luke?” Cristiano asks, crossing his
arms against his chest. “Since when do you not know how to take no for an
answer?”
“Have you said no?” Luke counters, the challenge clear in his voice.
“You blow me off—after one of the most intense sessions of my life, I
might add—citing some sexuality crap, but here you are now traipsing
around with some vanilla twink?”
Vanilla? Me? I look down at myself. The black shirt and the tight
leather pants might not be what all the docile little subs here at the club
wear, but I’m not wearing a button up collar and slacks either.
Luke doesn’t know what’s underneath these pants either. I can feel the
cock cage rub against me every time I move, and the rod inside… well, my
cock’s been wanting to harden all evening.
“I told you before the scene that I don’t take anyone home afterwards,”
Cristiano says, irritation starting to make him sound impatient. “You’re the
one who decided it was about sexuality and not the very real fact that I
come here to play, not fuck.”
Oh, now that is interesting. I get closer to Cristiano and wrap my arms
around him again, but my eyes are fixed on Luke. “Guess your hole just
wasn’t as good as mine,” I taunt, and I even stick my tongue out at him.
Yes, I can definitely play the brat.
Cristiano’s hand comes down hard on my ass, making me yelp. “I
wouldn’t know,” he says, his voice suddenly a dangerously low growl.
“Maybe I need to test out Luke’s hole to find out which one really is better.
Would you like that, Luke?”
Luke raises his hand to his mouth to cover a laugh. “You know I do,
Cris.”
Just like before, Cristiano tenses imperceptibly. I wouldn’t have been
able to tell if I weren’t pressed up against him, but he apparently does not
like the nickname.
I file that away for now and dig my fingers into Cristiano’s side.
“Daddy…” I whine.
“Well? You’re the one trying to cause problems,” Cristiano chides me,
unflinching. “And if you want me to pick favorites, I suppose I’ll have to
try out Luke’s ass. Do you want to watch or wait outside?”
I can’t tell if he’s being serious right now. Is he actually going to fuck
this guy, when his colleagues are still out there? Does he want me to back
down, and then he’ll end this farce?
Unfortunately for him, I’m more than willing to play it risky.
“I’ll stay here,” I say, pasting on a fake smile. “You’ll want a side-by-
side comparison, after all.”
Cristiano runs his hand down my front until he gets to the cock cage,
then squeezes his fingers into the spots around the metal. The way he
hesitates for that second lets me know I’ve thrown him, and my grin
becomes genuine.
What’s he going to do now that I’ve called his bluff?
“All right,” Cristiano says after a brief pause. “Both of you, pull down
your pants and bend over so I can see what I’m working with.”
 I’m surprised that he’s going through with this, but I can’t say I’m
disappointed. There’s still somebody out for our blood, but the likelihood of
them attempting anything here is slim, and I sure as fuck don’t care if he
outs himself to his mafia buddies. I go for the buttons on my pants.
“Where do you want me, Daddy?” I ask, making sure to linger on that
last word. “On all fours? Against the wall?”
Luke is quick to follow suit, and he yanks his pants off in short order,
letting them pool around his ankles
“Over the bench, next to each other,” Cristiano directs us. “You may
need to get… close.”
My eyes meet Luke’s. I make sure to keep smiling, although part of me
is wondering what he’d look like with a bullet through his skull. I’d have to
stage it right so nobody would know he was targeted for a reason, but…
“Now,” Cristiano growls.
I head to the bench and lower my pants and underwear. I make sure to
angle myself so that Luke gets a good look at the cock cage before I bend
over. He doesn’t have to know the cage isn’t there for any actual kink
purpose.
Mostly not a kink purpose.
Luke pouts. “If I knew you liked pretty boys in cock cages, I’d have
made sure to bring one along.” He leans over the bench, though he peers
over his shoulder at Cristiano, whose expression is unreadable even though
his eyes are blazing.
I can’t tell from this distance if he’s pissed off, turned on, or what, but
this is definitely having an impact on him.
“It wouldn’t be half as interesting if you wanted it,” Cristiano deadpans.
Something about that makes Luke’s brow furrow. Maybe he’s starting to
second-guess all of this. I hope not, because my cock is once again
attempting to harden despite the fact that Cristiano hasn’t even done
anything yet.
 I wiggle my ass enticingly at him. “Like what you see, Daddy?”
“You know what I really like?” he asks, coming closer and running a
hand along my ass cheek. “Boys who know how to keep their mouths shut.
Do you know how to keep your mouth shut, little fox?”
Luke, of course, stays quiet, like he really thinks he has a chance in hell
of winning this game.
“It’s easier if there’s something long and hard ramming down my
throat,” I answer, adding a few obscene noises—and smiling for real.
I think… I think I’m having fun.
“I can arrange for that,” Cristiano taunts, and he grabs my chin, hard.
He pulls my head back so I’m looking at him, then he shoves his fingers in
past my lips before I can stop him.
Maybe they’re not long and hard and what I was after, but it’s worth it
just to see the way Luke’s eyes light up in jealousy.
I do my best to lick and suck his fingers, running my tongue between
them and massaging the sensitive skin between the digits. I notice
Cristiano’s mouth part slightly as he stares at me.
The moment doesn’t last long, though, and Cristiano pulls back. His
hand comes down, and I think he’s going to spank my ass, but… He smacks
Luke instead with the same hand I’d just been fellating.
“Oh!” Luke cries out, raising his ass up higher. His shoulder brushes
against mine, and I’m tempted to shove hard enough to send him falling
from the bench.
I’m sure Cristiano’s response would be to toss me off the bench and
make me watch him focus on only Luke. Since I want to be part of the
action, I settle for observing Cristiano and memorizing the way he moves.
Because it’ll help me take him out in the future, if it ever comes to that
again.
Or simply because I find him incredibly attractive.
 “Now to see whose hole is better…” Cristiano muses aloud. “Reach
back and spread your ass cheeks for me, pretty boys. You’re both being so
good. Maybe one of you will get a nice reward at the end of this.”
Luke obeys him without question, and I guess that’s what the perfect
sub is supposed to do. But somehow, I get the feeling Cristiano isn’t after a
perfect little sub.
After all, he enjoyed frying my cock with a fucking shock collar.
I reach back—ah, fuck, my back does not like that movement—and start
playing with my hole instead of spreading my cheeks. “Hmm… like this,
Daddy?” I ask cheekily.
Cristiano smacks my ass, hard enough to surprise me into a yelp. “No.
Be a good fox and do what Daddy tells you to. Or I might just have to…
Oh, look. A perfectly displayed little hole, right here for me to tease and
torment.” He runs his finger along Luke’s hole, and the annoying sub
shivers and lets out a moan.
Be a good fox.
I grit my teeth and try to ignore those words. He’s just saying them for
Luke’s benefit. I focus instead on the sting in my ass. It’s a nice shock of
pain, but it’s not going to last. I lift up one of my feet and stretch it out until
it taps against Cristiano’s leg. He doesn’t react, but I start rubbing up and
down. Too bad I’m not flexible enough right now to get my leg really high
up there.
“That’s not going to get me to declare you the winner of the hottest hole
contest,” Cristiano chides me. Instead of focusing more on me, he swats
Luke’s exposed asshole, making Luke jerk and cry out in surprise—and
hopefully pain.
“Well, right now you’re looking kind of biased,” I say. “How are you
going to know how hot my hole is if you aren’t even touching it?”
“How can he touch it when you aren’t showing it off?” Luke retorts
before Cristiano can even answer. “God, you’re the worst sub. See, Cris?
I’m obviously winning this contest. You can ditch this loser and take me
home instead.”
“Is that what should happen?” Cristiano asks mildly, spreading my
cheeks for me and swatting my hole. “Does my little fox think I should go
home with the obedient little pet?”
“I’ve heard foxes can attack little dogs,” I respond, snapping my teeth.
“And I definitely have rabies.”
“C’mon, Cris. He’s insane,” Luke says, starting to sit up.
“I’m not done playing,” Cristiano replies, pushing him back down on
the bench. “Aren’t you having fun, Luke?” His voice is practically a purr as
he speaks, and he draws his finger between Luke’s ass cheeks. “Don’t you
want me to play with this?”
Luke moans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Y-yes,” he replies.
“Have we been playing?” I ask. “Because I’m getting a bit bored here.”
I sit up, my elbow knocking against Luke, to stare at Cristiano. “My hole is
so, so empty.”
Cristiano stares right back at me, then he slowly starts to roll up one of
his sleeves. “You’re being a brat,” he says. “But fine. If you’re getting
bored…” The other sleeve is rolled up, leaving me with a good view of his
strong forearms. “Lean over and spread your fucking ass cheeks, Fox.”
The sharp order makes something inside me jolt, and this time I obey.
It’s the promise of violence. I can already imagine him roughly penetrating
me with his fingers, giving me only cursory pleasure while he uses me.
“Yes, Daddy,” I say, adding a small moan.
I can’t even get hard, not while I’m wearing this cage, and something
about that just turns me on even more.
Cristiano lets out a quiet growl, and the sound has Luke shifting back
into place to play the perfect little sub once more. He can play all he wants.
No matter what he can take, I can take more.
 The first real slap to my hole is a quick one, just a test swat. It feels
good, but it’s nothing like what I know he can dole out. He starts slowly,
going back and forth between me and Luke, and each time, the strikes get a
little harder, a little more intense.
The pain starts layering on top of each other, sharp in the moment of
impact, then spreading out, burning hot, until the next slap. He alternates
between hitting my hole and my ass cheeks, and I almost lose hold of my
cheeks.
Fuck, it’s good. My cock is pulsing, desperate to get hard. The rod
inside my cock feels like it’s purposefully rubbing.
“Daddy,” I mumble, digging my fingers into my own flesh.
Another strike. Sweat trickles down my forehead.
I get a few seconds break while Cristiano spanks Luke, then his hand is
on my ass again, and I cry out, arching my back.
That was a mistake. My back burns, and more pain bursts out across my
body.
“More,” I say, spreading my legs as much as I can. “My… my balls…”
Cristiano slaps my balls, then pinches them. For a moment, he focuses
on me, and I’m only aware of the pain—the pain, and the pleasure.
I whine when he swaps back to Luke, but it doesn’t last long because
Luke croaks out, “Red.”
Just like the responsible dom Cristiano apparently wants to pretend he
is, he instantly stops striking Luke’s ass.
Luke groans, shifting so he’s on his knees in front of the bench instead
of draped over it.
“K-Keep going.” I lift up my ass, even though that makes my entire
body protest. I love how fuzzy my mind is getting though, the way I only
exist for this pain and the pleasure kept infuriatingly at bay.
I probably would have come already if I wasn’t caged.
 Cristiano goes back to my balls, alternating between hitting and
pinching them again, and I have to rest my forehead against the bench to
keep from turning into goo.
“Cris!” Luke says somewhere in the background of the haze.
“I told you not to call me that,” Cristiano hisses, his hand coming to a
rest on my ass.
“You need to stop!” Luke counters, and he pushes Cristiano’s hand
away. “He’s fucking bleeding!”
What? I’m bleeding? That doesn’t make any sense. Cristiano barely
touched me. Just a lot of lovely open-handed slaps. Some light pinching.
There weren’t even any knives involved.
“I’m fine,” I slur, trying to raise my hand. My shoulders do not like that
movement, and I just let my arm flop back to my side.
“See?” Cristiano says, breathing heavily. “He’s fine. He hasn’t safe-
worded. There’s no need to overreact, Luke.”
But to my utter disappointment, he stops instead of laying into me
again. I feel him lift the back of my shirt, which has already ridden up a bit
on my back, and he swears. “Fox, you should’ve fucking safe-worded,” he
snaps at me. “Fuck!”
I don’t want to get out of here, but Cristiano ignores me.
“Do you need help?” Luke asks me. “What the hell happened to your
back?”
“It wasn’t me, if that’s what you’re implying,” Cristiano snarls at him
before turning his attention back to me. “Come on, little fox. Let’s get you
home so I can take a proper look at that back of yours.”
“You can… you can keep going,” I say, trying to smile at him. “It’s
good. Barely a sting. Daddy, my ‘dad’ hits harder than you.”
He hesitates before murmuring, “Fox…”
“Keep going,” I insist, glancing at him over my shoulder and trying to
hide my wince as it stretches my back out more.
 He doesn’t look convinced. “Luke, go get a bottle of water,” he orders.
“Do I need to get the medic?” Luke asks, his voice little more than an
echo in the background. “He looks really bad, Cris.”
I can only guess just how pissed Cristiano must be getting with the
constant nicknaming.
“No. I have a doctor on staff at home. They’re recent injuries. They
must’ve reopened with all the squirming,” Cristiano says.
I close my eyes, trying to will my arms into moving again. Maybe if I
sit up, I can convince him to keep going. Or if I get on my knees…
“You have a doctor on staff?” Luke asks incredulously. “What the fuck?
What do you do to your subs?”
That startles a laugh out of Cristiano, though it’s brittle. “Fucking hell,
Luke. What kind of monster do you take me for?”
“The kind who doesn’t notice a sub is bleeding and keeps fucking
beating him!” Luke shouts at him. “You’re supposed to be in control!”
“You need to calm down,” Cristiano says, and his voice is as even as
Luke’s is ragged. “First of all, the injury to his back was not caused by me. I
helped him get patched up because he needed the help.”
“So you knew he was injured, and you decided to bring him to a BDSM
club?” Luke’s voice goes high with horror. “Jesus fuck. Don’t… don’t
touch him. I’m gonna get the staff, and…” He trails off, then I hear him run
out the door.
I start laughing and try to roll over. I end up on the floor, still laughing.
Still hazy and lovely. “He’s finally gone. You can fuck me now, Daddy.”
Cristiano is running a hand through his hair, his jaw set in a hard line as
he stares down at me. “You couldn’t feel that you were bleeding? For fuck’s
sake, Fox! This isn’t home! I have to be careful here. I’m not—” He shakes
his head, then sighs. “Come on. Sit up. They’ll bring some water, then there
will be questions. I’m sorry you don’t get to enjoy your subspace.”
 He extends a hand to me, and I stare at it for a few seconds before I
realize he wants me to take it. After a few unsuccessful tries, I grasp his
hand so he can pull me upright. I end up resting against his hard, warm
chest.
“Mmm. You do hit way better, Daddy. I don’t wanna go back to
Corbin.”
Cristiano tenses for a moment, but he holds me up by my lower back
where the injury isn’t so bad. “You don’t have to go back to anyone you
don’t want to, Fox,” he murmurs.
The door creaks open, and I glance over, ready to tell Luke to fuck off
again.
It’s only Silvano though. He’s kind of hot, but way too skinny. I bet he
can’t hit nicely at all.
“Wow,” Silvano says as he strolls in. “I thought Luke was being
dramatic.” He stops next to us, reaching out for me.
Cristiano slaps his hand away. “Don’t touch him,” he hisses. “He’s
fucking fine, Silvano. He took an injury to the back recently, and he
squirmed too much when I was spanking him and reopened the wounds.”
He helps me pull up my pants, which is difficult with the way I’m swaying
on my feet. “You know I don’t abuse my subs.”
“Hey, what you do in private is your business,” Silvano answers. “But
it’d be bad for optics if this got out. The club would ban all of us. Take Mr.
Taylor and get out of here, I’ll handle the rest.” He laughs briefly.
“Bodyguard. I knew he wasn’t actually a bodyguard. But I really didn’t
think you had a thing for boys.”
Cristiano grits his teeth so hard I can hear them grinding together.
“Yeah, well. Sometimes things just fall into your lap.” He finally gets my
pants fastened over my cock cage. “We’re out. I’ll lay low until things
settle.”
 I shake my head, clinging harder to Cristiano. “I don’t want to go,
Daddy. You haven’t fucked me yet.”
“I’m not fucking you,” Cristiano snaps. “Thanks, Silvano. Get with me
about the Russians. Guess I owe you one.”
“Yep. You definitely do.” Silvano waves as Daddy drags me out of the
room and out of the club.
I really was just starting to have fun.
CHAPTER SEVEN
 CRISTIANO

M y anger hasn ’ t settled by the time we get home. If anything, it’s been
amplified because Fox won’t simply lie in the back seat and rest while I
drive. There’s going to be blood all over my car, and this time it won’t even
be because of anything illegal that I’ll have to get it stripped down and
redone.
More than that, though, I’m pissed that my safe haven has been battered
and turned into a place where I might be the subject of ridicule or fear.
Once Fox and I go our separate ways, it’ll be harder to find people to do
scenes with. Silvano will settle things down some at Club Alpha, but Luke
has a big mouth.
“Since you’re so keen on moving nonstop, you can get your own ass up
and out of the car,” I tell Fox as I get out of the car, my voice testy.
“Okay,” Fox says, smiling dopily at me. He fumbles with the door latch
for a few seconds before managing to get the car door open and stumbling
out. After one step, he turns to rest on the car itself. “Daddy, you still
haven’t fucked me. We can do it here, in the garage. There’s only two
cameras.”
There are actually three, but I’m not going to tell the person who tried to
assassinate me that. “No,” I say. “You need some water, then you’re going
to lie down on your stomach like a good sub.”
 Fox laughs and turns around, pressing his injured back against the car
without so much as a flinch. “Why do you think I’m a good sub? I’ve never
been good. Please, Daddy…” He reaches down to cup his crotch. “I keep
trying to get hard.”
“Stop getting blood everywhere,” I bark out, crossing around the front
of the car. “You don’t get to get hard, and you don’t get to get fucked. You
—” I take a deep breath, trying to force myself to calm down.
Fuck.
Not only are we in my condo’s garage, but he’s in subspace, and I’m
treating him like shit.
I need to remind myself that even though he’s dangerous, it doesn’t
mean he’s not in a very real cycle of pleasure-pain right now.
Fox sways toward me and wraps his arms around my neck. This close, I
can see how dilated his pupils are. “Daddy,” he whispers, leaning in to
brush his lips against my neck. “I think I need to piss.”
“Not right here, little fox,” I say, patting one of his ass cheeks and
grimacing when it comes away wet from where blood has oozed down.
“C’mon. Let’s get you upstairs. Think you can walk to the elevator?”
“Yeah.” He nuzzles my beard, smiling softly. “I once walked a mile
with a bullet in my leg. That was so much worse.”
I take his arm, letting him brace himself against me, and start walking at
a slow pace toward the elevators. “When your back is healed, I will take
great pleasure in laying you bare and seeing you like this when I can fuck
you after.”
Right.
When his back is healed.
I said that so casually, like I really think he’s going to be around long
enough to be healed—like I really want him to be.
I lead him to the elevator, shielding him from the cameras with my
body. He keeps clinging to me the entire way to my condo, peppering me
with kisses and barely letting me get my keys out to open the door.
Fox slides to his knees as soon as he’s through the door, and he looks up
at me. “I think you need to hit me some more. It’s wearing off.”
“No,” I tell him, my voice firm, unrelenting, even though I’d very much
like to keep spanking his hole and pinching his balls until he’s begging to
come. “You need to get up and go to the bathroom. You are housebroken,
aren’t you?”
“I can’t,” Fox says as he starts to unzip his leather pants. “There’s a rod
inside me. Rubbing all over. Making me hard, if I could get hard in the
cage.”
Shit. I’d forgotten all about that particular feature of the cock cage I’d
chosen, even though that had been part of the reason I’d picked that one.
“Maybe if you’re especially good and you do everything Daddy tells you,
we can play with some nice, shiny rods later on.”
My words have the opposite of their intended effect. Fox’s smile drops,
and he bends forward, clinging to his knees and arching his back in a way
that can’t be comfortable.
“So, never,” Fox says quietly. “Because I’m not good.”
“What do you mean, you’re not good?” I ask, my brows furrowing as I
look down at him. “Fox… Come on. That can’t be comfortable. Let’s get
you cleaned up, and I’ll see if I need to call the doctor.” I’m sure I will. He
had to have torn stitches, though the extent of the damage remains to be
seen.
Fox stands, not even grimacing, and rubs his hands over his face.
“Whatever. Forget I said anything.” He turns away from me and starts
walking toward the bathroom, although his gait is unsteady. “I… Fuck. I
said some dumb shit.”
One of the reasons I’ve never taken on the role of Daddy is because I
have no fucking clue how to take care of someone. Oh, I can get them
through aftercare, but that’s about it. This? This goes beyond any
knowledge I have. Watching Fox go from subspace to sub drop in a matter
of seconds is alarming.
I take a deep breath and gently take his arm again, helping to guide him
to the bathroom. He feebly tries to fend me off, but he doesn’t have the
energy to escape my grasp. “We’ll worry about what you said once we’ve
taken care of you.”
Like his comment about not beating him as hard as his dad, and not
wanting to return to Corbin—whoever that is—and thinking he’s not good
for some reason. Well, no one in this business is truly good, but those words
went beyond that.
Once we’re in the bathroom, Fox sits down on the toilet seat and presses
his back against the cold porcelain, letting out a long groan. He’s
deliberately inflicting more pain on himself.
I don’t know what to make of it.
I’ve been with masochists before, but that was all about seeking
pleasure from pain. This, on the other hand? It’s like he’s trying to punish
himself.
I crouch down and get the key to the cock cage out of my pocket. “Be
still so I can get that out of you,” I warn him. The sound isn’t too thick, but
there’s no need to be careless.
Fox spreads his legs and pulls his cock out so I can access the cage. He
watches me the entire time as I unlock it, free his cock, and gently pull the
metal rod out. When it’s out, he sighs loudly.
His cock also stiffens a bit.
“Hey, look, you’re on your knees in front of me,” Fox jokes in a tired
voice. “Maybe you should blow me. If you’re not gonna fuck me.”
“Maybe I should spank your cock instead,” I say, but I shake my head. I
may be a dom at the club, but that doesn’t extend beyond sex. Here at
home, I have no fucking idea what I’m doing with a boy who doesn’t seem
to know what the fuck he’s doing either.
 It’s a great combination.
Really.
“C’mon.” I grab his hand and help him up so I can lift the lid of the
toilet. “Piss first. Then…” There’s a whole fucking to do list at this point,
and I don’t know where to start. Where would a lifestyle dom start? “Then
water while I look you over,” I decide.
Fox pushes the seat down again and sits, pissing like that. He closes his
eyes and sways as he does.
“It was a good spanking,” he says before he’s finished pissing. “Poor
little Luke had no idea what he was asking for.”
I shake my head. “I’ve scened with him before,” I say, going to wash
my hands and the cock cage in the sink. “I didn’t think he spooked that
easy. Guess you never really know.” I can’t help but be disgusted by Luke’s
reaction, even though I know that’s how a normal person probably reacts to
a bleeding human in front of them.
Maybe I should’ve noticed. Maybe I’m a shitty dom for not having
noticed.
Maybe I’m a shitty person.
But I’ve never claimed to be someone good.
I got so into it. Fox was taking it beautifully, making amazing sounds
and raising his ass for more. There’d just been that high of power and
violence, of having him at my complete mercy and knowing he wouldn’t—
couldn’t—complain about it.
He could have safe-worded. I stopped when Luke did. I wasn’t that out
of control.
And I’d been spanking Fox’s fucking hole, not tearing into his back.
Still, I should’ve been paying attention. I should have realized it would be
too much for him.
The thoughts are like a ping-pong ball in my brain, telling me on one
hand what I did right then countering with what I’d done wrong, and it
takes me a moment to realize Fox is talking to me. “What?”
“It really doesn’t hurt that much,” Fox says. “But I don’t think I want to
squeeze back into the leather pants.” He reaches down—while still on the
toilet—to work at his shoelaces. I can see how the shirt clings to his back
where the blood soaked through.
“Stop,” I say, leaving the cage in the sink. I crouch down again, helping
him with the laces. “You don’t need to get back into the pants. You’re going
to lie down on your front. I’ll get you some boxers.”
“I’d rather not wear fucking anything,” Fox mumbles. “That’s gonna
bruise a lot. Too bad you’re being a wuss about all of this.”
“I’m being a responsible dom,” I inform him, helping him take his
shoes off. “Up. Let’s get you out of the pants and get this shirt off so I can
see the damage.”
He thankfully doesn’t fight me as I pull his clothes off, but as soon as I
see his back, I hiss sharply.
He’s opened up the two largest cuts, and several of the smaller ones are
bleeding too. The shirt smeared the blood all over. His ass is already
beginning to bruise, and I realize I might have hit him harder than I thought.
But he kept begging, saying he wanted more, goading me. If I’d
known…
Would I have stopped?
“All right,” I say grimly. Any endorphins I’d felt while spanking him
senseless are fading fast, leaving my mood dark. “Let me wipe you down,
at least, then I’ll call the doctor. You need to be restitched.”
“Guess so.” Fox cranes his neck so he can see his back in the mirror.
“Can’t work like this. The pain’s not bad, but my aim is probably shot.”
“Your aim.” I let out a little laugh. “You’re not going to be going
anywhere you need to be aiming any time soon.” I grab a washcloth and
wet it, gingerly pressing it around the wounds to wipe away some of the
blood.
 Fox sits quietly, not even reacting to my touches, and that disturbs me
more than if he’d been writhing in pain.
All the little things he’s said tonight, the way he’s acting…
“You know…” I start quietly, “I only do this when both parties are into
it. BDSM isn’t a punishment.”
Fox snorts in response. “And that’s why you strapped a shock collar to
my cock and fucking shocked me? But, as you saw, I am into it. So I don’t
know what the fucking problem is.”
“No, I mean.” Fuck. How do people talk about this shit all the time? “I
just meant. I’m not like… your father, or…”
“Shut the fuck up,” Fox says, stepping away from me. He tries to grab
the washcloth from my hands but gives up when I don’t let go. “Whatever.
Leave me alone.” He starts toward the bathroom door.
I let him get past me, tossing the washcloth into the sink along with
everything else, but I grab his arm and start to guide him back to the room
I’d kept him in before. He still needs water, and to be patched up, and
whether this is sub drop or something else, he needs something from me.
I just wish I knew what it was.
“Let go,” Fox hisses. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
The words shouldn’t hurt, but I find they do. Still, I’m not going to take
out my frustration on him. “Then don’t talk,” I say quietly. “I’ll still be
here.”
He glares at me, but stays quiet until he’s in bed again, face down and
completely naked. I grab a pair of boxers from the dresser, holding it out to
him. “Do you need help getting them on?”
“I’m not putting them on. Just go away.” Fox clings to the pillow, hiding
his face from me. “Just… fucking leave if you aren’t going to fuck me.”
I put the boxers back into the dresser, going to pull the sheet up until it’s
right beneath his ass cheeks. “No,” I say. I pull my phone out and text the
doctor. Once he confirms he’s on the way, I tuck the phone back into my
pocket. “The last thing you need right now is to be alone.” The more I look
at him, the more I hear him, the more certain I am.
Tentatively, I reach out to stroke his tousled red hair. He tenses and lifts
his arm as if to bat my hand away, but he drops it again.
“Stop,” Fox says, his voice rough. “You already… you already said you
weren’t going to fuck me, so why are you touching me now?”
I have to swallow hard around the lump in my throat as I stare down at
his bloody back. It evokes feelings in me that I can’t quite explain, making
me feel torn between guilt and exultation that I was able to hurt him without
him protesting—with him simply begging me to continue.
“Touch doesn’t have to be about sex, Fox,” I say softly. “I would like to
try to comfort you however I can until the doctor gets here. I’m not… I’m
not not fucking you because I don’t want to. I do want to. But you’re too
badly injured.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Fox lets out a shuddering breath. “It really
doesn’t matter. It’s fine. I’m not weak, or…” His next breath sounds like a
sob.
“You’re definitely not weak,” I tell him, wanting to keep stroking his
hair but faltering as I try to figure out what would help him the most. I
recognize it in him, though—he’s experienced trauma, just like I have, and
he’s doing his best to survive in a world that doesn’t pause to let you catch
your breath when terrible things happen.
“This isn’t me.” Fox buries his head in the pillow. “I don’t need you. Go
away.”
Looking at him reminds me of myself so many years before, but I
hadn’t had someone at my side. I’d been left alone to grieve my losses, to
patch up my wounds, and I’d always wished I’d had someone. But are we
that similar? Am I projecting my own thoughts onto him, or does he really
need someone here right now?
 “I’m going to sit here until the doctor arrives,” I say quietly. “I won’t
touch you if you don’t want me to, but I don’t want you to be alone, Fox.”
Fox clutches the pillow tighter, not saying anything.
I simply watch him, tracing the line of his ass and back and trembling
shoulders.
Soft, muffled noises filter into the room.
He’s crying.
I’ve been called a lot of things, but soft has never been one of them. Yet
here I am, feeling completely and utterly gone for this boy—this red-headed
brat who’d tried to kill me—and his tears threaten to break even my cold
heart.
I can’t help it then. I touch his hair, stroking the strands softly, and
murmur, “It’s all right. I won’t ever tell anyone.”
“I’ll kill you if you do,” Fox answers, half laughing, half sobbing. “And
I won’t miss this time.”
“Of course, of course,” I say, unable to keep myself from smiling.
“They wouldn’t believe me anyway.”
Just like no one would believe that I might have something resembling a
heart.
I keep patting him gently until the doctor arrives, wondering just what
I’ve gotten myself into.
CHAPTER EIGHT
 CRISTIANO

I t kills me to leave Fox alone, but the doctor had been vehement about
him needing to recover. He’d also been very unimpressed with Fox’s new
bruises, but I refuse to be ashamed of what I did.
The only regret I have is that Fox’s wounds opened like that.
Briar is keeping watch while I go take care of the business I’ve been
neglecting for over a week now, which they are utterly not pleased about,
but I don’t pay them to like what they’re doing.
“Don Cresci’s been waiting for you,” Enzo, Cresci’s main enforcer,
says. He grimaces as he leads me through the manor. “He was not pleased
when he heard about the explosion.”
“As someone who was there,” I say, my voice dry, “I was also
displeased about the explosion.” I shake my head. “Thanks for the heads-
up.”
I follow him, trying to figure out what I’m going to tell the boss. I trust
the head of the Cresci family with my life, but I don’t know how he’d feel
about me having an assassin under my roof. He’s not forgiving, and he’s
right not to be.
I thank Enzo when he opens the door to Cresci’s office, and I step
inside. Silvano and Dan are there, and I know I can’t say a word about Fox
until I figure out why Dan acted so paranoid around me at the club.
 Don Giovanni Cresci, head of the Cresci Crime Family, sits at his heavy
desk with an angry scowl. He’s in his sixties, his hair fully silver and
thinning at the temples. The heavy jaw and broad shoulders hint at the kind
of violence he was able to enforce in his youth. Thirty years ago, I wouldn’t
have wanted to meet him in a dark alley.
Twenty years ago, it was lucky that I did. That one single meeting
changed my life forever.
“Cristiano. Kept me waiting long enough. I almost wondered if you’d
been taken out after all. If Silvano hadn’t told me he’d seen you at the club
the other day…” Cresci growls.
I fight not to wince. I should’ve reached out sooner, but I’ve been so
caught up in Fox that it’s been hard to think of anything else. “I apologize.”
I glance at Dan, not wanting him there, and I clear my throat. “May I speak
to you and Silvano alone?”
“In a moment. We have other business first.” Cresci turns his attention
to Silvano. “Tell Cristiano what you discovered, Silvano.”
Dan shifts uncomfortably. He’s significantly lower ranked than anyone
else in the room, and there’s no good reason for him to be here in a private
meeting between Don Cresci, his underboss, and his consigliere.
Silvano motions to Enzo, and I hear the lock click behind me. I
instinctively tense, but if I didn’t trust Cresci with my life, I would never
have gotten this far in the organization. Years of toiling and working for
him have taught me that Cresci is a man who might be quick to anger, but
he believes in rewarding those who are loyal to him.
I’ve been nothing if not loyal.
“I was doing some math,” Silvano says, going to sit on the large leather
armchair. “It’s funny how easily numbers can lie. For example, if the paper
says we received a shipment of twenty assault rifles, but I go out to the
warehouse and discover only fifteen.” He rests his chin on his hand and
stares at Dan. “Even weirder is when the containers have clearly been pried
open and then clumsily been hammered shut. How the fuck does that
happen?”
I look at Dan, too, who’s red-faced and sweating under the scrutiny. It’s
as much an admission of guilt as if he screamed it from the rooftops, but
Silvano isn’t going to make this painless for him.
I don’t pity Dan one bit.
“Huh. That’s a pretty good question,” I say slowly. I wonder if this is
enough of a secret to kill for—probably so, since it’s enough to die over. It’s
easy to pinpoint Dan as the one who wanted me killed, perhaps wanting to
frame me for the crime, but it feels too easy somehow.
“Um. I don’t know,” Dan mumbles, taking a few steps back. He looks
past me toward the locked door, but Enzo is standing right there, ready to
thwart any attempts to escape.
“You can fuck off with the innocent act,” Cresci says thunderously,
slamming his fist on the table. “You stole from me! Did you think we
wouldn’t notice?”
Dan shakes his head and takes another step back, bumping against the
sofa. He stumbles and falls into the seat. “No! I mean, I didn’t! It wasn’t
me! What about, uh, Peter? Or…” He looks over at me. “Fiore! He’s the
one who was gone for over a week! And he has that new friend!”
“Yes,” I say. “I stole arms, sloppily put things back together, arranged
for someone to try to assassinate me, then decided to conspicuously lay low
for a week while I recovered.” I slowly clap for him. “You’ve solved the
case, Danny.”
“If there’s one thing I hate worse than traitors,” Cresci says, “it’s stupid
traitors. How the fuck did you even get this far?”
Silvano laughs into his hand. “Coasting on others’ coattails, it seems.
As soon as Cristiano was out of commission, he lost what little cover he
had.”
 Dan looks squeamish now, and he runs a hand over his sweaty forehead.
He squirms, though he doesn’t get up. “I didn’t do anything, Boss,” he
protests.
I shake my head. Either way, Dan is screwed. Cresci has him in his
sights, and he’ll find some crime he’s guilty of if it exists.
Maybe even if it doesn’t, but hell, Dan is certainly being a fucking idiot
—and that’s a liability as much as anything else these days.
“Cristiano. I assume you’re armed? Take care of this trash.” Cresci
waves dismissively. “Then we can finally get on with business.”
I nod, meeting Dan’s terrified eyes. He goes to get off the couch at last,
but I’m on him before he has a chance to even try to dart toward the door. I
grab him by his hair and shove him face down onto the couch, wrestling
him into position. I don’t particularly want to be covered in blood, so I grab
the back cushion and push it down onto Dan’s head. He’s shouting now,
something incoherent, but I ignore him as I push the muzzle of the gun
against the pillow and shoot.
Dan’s body goes limp instantly. I lift the cushion away, noting how
clean the gunshot looks on Dan’s temple with satisfaction. I should use sofa
cushions more often. They always do the job.
“Enzo, go get somebody to come clean this up,” Cresci orders. Once
Enzo has left the room, Cresci nods at me. “All right. Now, what the fuck
happened, and how did you almost get fucking killed?”
I sigh, getting up and straightening my suit. I inspect the white shirt
beneath it, pleased to see that no blood got through onto it. “Someone set
me up,” I say, glancing between Cresci and Silvano. “Everything had been
vetted, but when it came down to it, someone tried to fucking shoot me, and
somehow they got around the cameras and alarms to rig up fucking
explosives.” I grit my teeth, still pissed that that happened under my watch.
“Who have you pissed off lately?” Silvano asks. “Things are a bit tense
with the Winters family, but not to the point of explosions. Did one of your
deals with the Russians or Serbians go sour?”
I shake my head, although I wouldn’t count our animosity with the
Winters clan “a bit tense.” They want our blood—but not specifically my
blood, as far as I’m aware.
“I haven’t pissed anyone off enough for that kind of attack… that I
know of, anyway.” I grimace, glancing at the bloody couch. Fox’s bullet
could’ve easily found me if I hadn’t been really, really fucking lucky.
“Someone could be holding a grudge, I guess.”
Cresci makes a disgusted noise. “I don’t need this. I’m about to
announce… “ He sighs, and his face softens somewhat. “I’m getting tired of
all this. You two know that. I thought I’d be able to retire soon, but I can’t
do that if we’re getting attacked like this.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll figure this out sooner rather than later.
Maybe it was someone Dan was working with.” I shake my head.
Silvano angles himself towards his father. “Dad… You can take mom
and go live on Jamaica like you want. You deserve it. Cristiano and I can
handle ourselves.”
Nodding, I reply, “Let us get this latest catastrophe sorted while we start
working on the transition of power. We can make it as seamless as
possible.” It should be fairly straight-forward. Silvano and I get along well,
and I assume he’ll name me his underboss once he takes Don Cresci’s
place.
But Cresci’s lips thin and he shakes his head. “No. Until this is resolved,
I can’t risk it. I want the Family to thrive, not be cut down before I’ve even
left the country.”
Silvano isn’t happy with that declaration, but he wisely doesn’t say
anything else. We both know his father is stubborn to a fault, and once he’s
got his mind set on something, there’s no changing it.
“Fine. Then we can start by trying to figure out who ordered the hit on
Cristiano.” Silvano turns to me. “You have any leads?”
 “A few.” I don’t usually hold information back from Don Cresci, but
something about the whole situation has me thinking it’s best to keep it
close to the chest until I find out more. “Does the name Corbin mean
anything to either of you?”
Silvano shakes his head, but Cresci grimaces. “Where did you hear that
name?”
“Got a new bodyguard for the time being, and he’s been a good source
of information,” I say carefully. I don’t want to lie, but if I tell Cresci the
whole truth, he’ll insist on torturing and killing Fox—and I can’t have that.
Cresci rubs his jaw. “There used to be a hitman by that name. I heard he
died fifteen years ago, though.”
If he’s dead, how does Fox know him? He talked about him in the
present, not the past. “Did he have any partners?” I ask. “Protégés, even?”
“Not that I heard, but I didn’t know him personally. It was all just
rumors, and one day he vanished from the scene. Somebody claimed to
have taken him out, but it’s not like we could verify any of it,” Cresci says.
“Maybe he had an admirer, or a copycat,” Silvano suggests. “Why
bother building up your own brand, when you can steal somebody else’s?”
It wouldn’t be the first time someone adopted a killer’s name and
continued to operate under it, but it doesn’t feel right. Fox had said he
didn’t want to go back to Corbin, and whether it’s the original Corbin or
some new one, someone is using that name. “I’ll see what else I can find
out,” I say, “but someone is operating under the name Corbin now.”
“I can reach out to some of my people too,” Silvano says. He taps his
slender fingers against his thigh. “There can’t be that many hitmen
operating out of New Bristol.” Then he wrinkles his nose and looks over at
Dan’s cooling corpse. “Is there anything else, Dad?”
Cresci follows Silvano’s gaze and shakes his head. “Your stomach is
still weak. When’s the last time you even shot somebody?”
 That has Silvano rolling his eyes, and I feel awkward. It’s an argument
I’ve witnessed multiple times already. I wouldn’t call Silvano soft, though.
He doesn’t get blood on his own hands, but he doesn’t flinch away from
violence or murder.
“I just don’t like the smell of corpses.” Silvano stands up and brushes
imaginary lint off his tailored suit. “I’ll get back to you once I’ve heard
more. See you around, Cristiano!”
“Stay safe, Silvano,” I tell him.
He leaves, and I turn to Cresci. He’s watching the door his son has just
stepped out of, and there’s something about his expression that makes me
hesitant to speak up and interrupt his thoughts.
“Do you think he’s fit to take over?” Cresci asks after a moment,
turning his attention back to me. “Be honest.”
The words shock me into momentary silence. “Boss?”
He grumbles and waves his hand dismissively. “A passing thought. I
don’t want the organization to crumble as soon as I’m out of the picture. I
love my son, but he’s…”
It’s true that Silvano and Giovanni Cresci are two very different men.
Silvano takes more after his mother in the looks department, with blond hair
and bright blue eyes and a much thinner figure. He enjoys expensive, well-
tailored suits and exudes an air of class, while Giovanni is darker, stockier,
and wouldn’t be out of place in a pub brawl.
They both command power, though, and know how to get people to do
what they want. Not always in the same manner, but the end results speak
for themselves. Most people would say that Giovanni is the more dangerous
man, but I’m not so sure.
“He’s different, but the men respect him,” I say, choosing my words
with care. “He makes good decisions. I might not bet on him in a physical
altercation, but I’d put all my money on him in pretty much anything else.
He just needs good bodyguards and enforcers.” I grin at Cresci. “And I’ll be
supporting him, too. I’ll make sure nobody can get to him.”
Cresci bursts out laughing. “Yeah, I know you can handle yourself in a
fight. Fuck, I still sometimes think about how you looked with your fists all
bloody. Did that kid even survive?”
I can’t help but smirk. “Never got rid of that limp, but yeah, he
survived. He shouldn’t have fucked up like he did.” I shake my head,
thinking back to the first time I’d caught Cresci’s attention. I was just
dealing with one of the wannabe associates who’d fucked up, and maybe I
used more violence than I needed to…
Eh, the guy’s lucky he survived. And Cresci had “liked my style.”
“Anyway. Silvano’s not the only one who isn’t a fan of that corpse
smell,” I say with a chuckle. “It’ll be fine. Retire when you’re ready, and
I’ll be here to make sure the transition of power goes smoothly.”
“The corpse hasn’t even begun to cool! There’s no smell!” Cresci
mumbles. “We’ll see, though. You can leave. Send Enzo back in so he gets
rid of Dan before he does start to stink.”
“Will do,” I tell him, bowing my head to him.
I leave the house, but my thoughts keep going back to that strange
exchange. Do I think Silvano’s fit to take over? Of course I do. He’s earned
his place as the underboss, and I don’t think he’s a weakling who will have
to fight to prove himself.
But the words bother me all the same.

F ox is lying across the sofa on his stomach, watching another home

renovation show. He hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt, so the bandages are
visible on his back.
There’s a part of me that’s surprised he’s still here. I half-expected him
to disappear—then to turn around one day and find myself at the gates of
hell. Briar certainly was not kind when they’d sent messages to me about
how I’d let “that assassin” wander the house while I’d been gone.
“How far over budget are they so far?” I ask by way of greeting as I
take off my suit jacket and hang it up in the hallway closet.
“Only five grand so far,” Fox says. “They found a leak in the basement
plumbing that had to get fixed or else the entire foundation would crumble.”
“They’ll find at least another twenty k worth of necessary repairs,” I
predict. “As a result of how many years the leak’s been there.” I go to sit
next to him, and without thinking about it, I run a hand through his soft hair.
“Chased Briar off, I see.”
Fox leans into my touch. “Yeah, well, I don’t need one of your other
conquests hovering around me,” he mumbles.
“Conquests.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t conquer the help.” I chuckle, able
to picture Briar’s mouth opening in an ‘o’ of indignation at being called the
help. “I haven’t had more than a quick fuck in at least five years.”
Why am I telling Fox this? It’s none of his business, and it’s more
information he can use against me.
“What about you?” I ask before he can press. “Do you always fuck your
marks?”
“Just one time.” Fox cranes his head to look up at me. “Funny enough,
most people I’m hired to kill just aren’t into twinks.” He laughs, even
though it’s somewhat humorless, and I hate how cute he looks even with a
brittle smile. “The guy was so fucking confused when I pulled the gun out
and shoved it in his mouth. It wasn’t like he was willing to use his mouth
for other things.”
“Hmm. Would you have let him blow you before you killed him, little
fox?” I ask. He’s a little sociopath, all right, and I’m wondering just how far
that goes. No wonder Briar didn’t want to stick around.
Fox purses his lips thoughtfully. “I dunno. I was already running late,
and I wasn’t convinced he’d have been any good. It was just the easiest way
to get close to him. Maybe if I’d known you were into the cute boys, I’d
have seduced you too, Daddy.”
“Good thing I don’t let cute boys seduce me on a regular basis,” I say,
and while I mean for the words to come out dry, they come out strained
instead. Because this is a total fuck-up, and I know it.
“Yeah, well, if you had, my back wouldn’t be killing me like this.” Fox
turns his attention back to the TV. “You have fun with your friends today?
Sell lots of guns? Kill a few guys?”
“Just one,” I say, settling down next to him on the couch. “I’d offer to
tell you about it, but I don’t think it’s gory enough for your liking. I didn’t
even get any blood on my suit.”
“Hey, I usually don’t get blood on myself either.” Fox makes a finger
gun gesture with one hand. “9 times out of 10 the target doesn’t even see
me before I get them right between the eyes.”
“What happens when they do see you?” I ask, finding myself curious.
“Uh, they end up dead? Keep up, Daddy, I’m an assassin.” Fox sighs
and props himself up on his elbows. He grits his teeth and sits up the rest of
the way, although he keeps his back away from the couch.
“No one’s perfect a hundred percent of the time,” I say, thinking about
what Cresci had said about Corbin. I don’t want to ruin the conversation by
bringing him up, but I need to know more. I take a deep breath, then go on,
“Fox… I have questions. They’re questions you probably won’t want to
answer, but we can’t solve this whole mess unless you do.”
Fox reaches for the remote and presses buttons to change the episode.
“I’ve seen this one before. There’s a show with international homes that’s
more interesting anyway. The British ones don’t even help fund any of the
reno. They just watch the homeowners dig themselves into deeper and
deeper holes.”
I sigh. I should’ve expected the diversion, and I did, really, but now I’m
not sure how to proceed. “I need you to tell me about Corbin,” I say quietly,
touching his hand atop the remote.
I feel him tense, but I wait patiently for his response.
I don’t expect Fox to drop the remote and scoot closer to me, and it’s
my turn to tense. He runs a hand along my jaw, using his thumb to disrupt
the bristles of my beard, before he leans in closer to kiss me.
“You could fuck me now,” Fox says quietly. “I’ll ride you, Daddy. No
need to worry about hurting my back. I really want to feel your thick cock
split me open.”
“Do you really think that’s going to work?” I press our lips together
anyway, stroking his cheek. He’d said he didn’t want to have to go back to
Corbin. As long as he’s laying low—as long as he’s having to hide out here
—he doesn’t have to go back. Does he even want to figure out who tried to
kill us?
Fox opens his mouth for me and climbs onto my lap, wrapping his arms
around my shoulders. It would be so easy to give into this, to forget my
questions and just play with this beautiful boy in my arms.
But when I place my hands on his sides, I’m reminded of the state of his
back and why he’s even here in the first place. I break the kiss and give him
a stern glare. “No. Answer my question.”
Fox rolls his eyes and sighs. “Take a hint, Daddy. We aren’t at the
sharing-social-security-numbers stage of a relationship yet.”
Yet.
The word sends a funny little tingle through me, but I ignore it. “I
thought we were in the ‘figure out how to survive and find out who tried to
kill us’ stage, though, which comes with its own set of uncomfortable
questions, Fox.”
 “Who tried to kill you. I was collateral damage.” Fox sits a bit heavier
in my lap. “You want my thoughts? If it wasn’t the Russians or the Winters,
you’re probably looking at someone within your own organization. The
mob is rife with backstabbing traitors. It was just a matter of time before
you pissed off the wrong person.”
What he says makes sense, but the problem is that I can’t figure out who
I’ve pissed off that much lately. Maybe the fact that my relationship with
the Russians is improving means I’m in someone’s way, though. “Is that
why you work alone? No one to stab you in the back?”
“Exactly. Plus, in the event I go down in a messy explosion, nobody’s
going to be around to miss me. It’s better for everyone, really.”
No, it’s not. Even I have a family—the Cresci family, maybe, but people
I can count on to have my back. Unless I can’t. Unless Fox is right. Unless
it wasn’t Dan responsible for the whole thing.
Fox sets his stubborn gaze on me. “Now, are you going to fuck me or
what?”
I want to fuck him. I want to taste him, to feel him, but I still can’t shake
the conflicting emotions about causing him to bleed without even realizing
it. It’s one thing to make someone bleed—when I mean to—but it’s another
entirely for it to happen because I was careless.
I’m not usually careless.
But he’s so fragile in some ways, and if I refuse to have sex with him,
there’s a chance he’ll get defensive and distant again. “When your back is
healed a little more,” I tell him. “In the meantime, you need to get back on
your stomach and stop agitating those stitches before you tear them again.”
“Ugh.” Fox slumps forward, pressing his head against my shoulder.
“Bedrest is so fucking boring. You’re the worst date ever, Daddy.”
“We aren’t even on a date,” I point out, stroking his hair again. “You
can’t judge me for my dating skills right now.” Though it’s been so long
since I’ve been on a date that I probably am a pretty shitty date.
 Fox’s fingers pull on my shirt—not trying to pull it off, but clinging to
me. I don’t know what to make of it, and I awkwardly keep running my
fingers through his hair. I like it, oddly, that he’s clutching me for comfort.
No one runs to me to make them feel better.
Finally Fox pulls back, a strange smirk on his face. “That sounds like an
invitation. I want to go to the Van Geersdorf Gallery. They have a new
exhibit on modern art. Plus a high-class restaurant after that. If you treat me
right, I might put out.”
I blink at him, unsure how we went from me trying to gently reject his
advances to somehow having to take him on a date. “We don’t have time to
go on a date,” I tell him. “After this whole fiasco… We’ll see.”
“I see.” Fox lets go of me and gets off my lap, walking toward the
kitchen island. “Have fun figuring all that other stuff out on your own,
then.”
I blink at him, following him into the kitchen. “Are you… blackmailing
me into a date with you?” I ask, just to make sure I’m getting this right.
“Out of deference to your delicate sensibilities about my minor injuries,
I’m willing to wait a few days,” Fox says, reaching up to take a cup from
one of the cabinets. I wince when I see how his bandaged back bends. “But
otherwise, yeah. If you want something from me, you gotta treat me right.
Daddy.” He takes the cup to the fridge to fill it with water, eyeing me the
entire time as the cup fills.
“Have I not been treating you right? You seemed to enjoy the way I
spanked your hole,” I reply, going to him and taking the cup out of his
hand. “You go sit down. Are you hungry?”
Fox groans softly. “Yeah, you did. But then you didn’t put out, and I
don’t think blue-balling me counts as treating me nice.” He heads to one of
the bar stools and sits down, making a show of wiggling his butt. “The
bruises are even starting to fade. You barely used any force.”
 “It’s never enough for the fucking masochists,” I grumble, bringing the
now-full cup over to him. “But fine. I’ll take you on a date after the doctor
says you’re cleared for walking around for a while. I don’t need someone
calling the cops in the middle of a fucking museum.”
Fox laughs, and that sound goes straight to my fucking heart. “Thank
you, Daddy,” he says, blowing a kiss at me.
Yep. Straight to my heart.
I’m fucking screwed.
CHAPTER NINE
 FOX

“I think the cage is visible through the pants,” I say, stopping in front of
the large reflective windows of the museum entrance. I adjust my nice dress
trousers a little and pull them tight over my crotch, watching Cristiano’s
reaction via the reflection.
It’s a shame he’d skipped the sounding rod this time, though even I have
to admit it would have been impractical.
“I think…” Cristiano says in a soft purr, stepping up behind me and
wrapping an arm around my waist, “that no one else should be looking at
what’s mine. This way, they’ll know you’re taken.”
I huff in amusement. “Your big arm draped possessively over me
definitely doesn’t give that away.”
I catch one woman staring at us via the reflective windows, and I widen
my grin. She hurries onward, probably embarrassed to have been caught
staring.
I’m just glad to be out of the condo. I’ve been going crazy, just lying
around with nothing to do but watch tv. I’d tried to gain access to
Cristiano’s computer while he was out, but there’s enough security on it that
I hadn’t wanted to risk it just yet.
Cristiano watches the woman go, and there’s something briefly troubled
in his expression. His arm tightens around me for a moment, and he kisses
the side of my head before letting me go completely. “Well. Are we going
inside, or are you more concerned with my big, strong arm wrapped around
you?”
“We’re going in! The exhibit I want to see is only on for another few
days.” I walk up the remaining stairs and through the entrance to the Van
Geersdorf gallery, one of the largest art museums in New Bristol.
I’ve been here hundreds of times already, to the point where I could
probably run a guided tour without anybody realizing I’m not employed. At
one point I even had a member pass, before Corbin found out and destroyed
it, saying even that was too much proof of my existence.
“Twenty-eight dollars per adult? Looks like they upped the prices since
I was last here.” I wind an arm around one of Cristiano’s. “But you’ve got
us covered, right, Daddy?”
Amusement glints in his eyes. “Yes, I think I can handle that. I’m more
worried about you ordering the most expensive thing on the menu when we
go out to dinner,” Cristiano says, squeezing my arm lightly before he pulls
out his wallet.
We get our tickets via the automatic ticket dispenser, grab one of the
floor plans that I don’t need, and start going through the closest gallery.
Impressionist painters, with the star of the gallery being a Monet piece.
“It’s a bit basic by now, of course,” I explain to Cristiano. “Everybody
loves impressionists. You aren’t avant-garde for appreciating splotches of
colors arranged to look like a real object.”
“Isn’t that all art?” Cristiano counters. “Ceci n’est pas une pipe and all
that.” He stops in front of one piece by a lesser-known artist. “It still takes
skill to know which colors to pick, and how to arrange the ‘splotches’ so
they do imply a specific form.”
I smile, surprised at the reference. “They do have a gallery dedicated to
surrealism. Without any pipes, unfortunately, but there’s a few other
Magritte pieces.” I bump my shoulder against his. “Does this mean you
actually like art, and you’re not just humoring me?”
“I do,” Cristiano says. He pauses, then adds, “I went to school for it,
years and years ago.”
That’s even more of a surprise. “Really? For art history or a fine arts
degree? Do you paint?” I smile widely and make a dramatic hand gesture.
“Draw me like one of your French girls, Daddy.”
The words earn me a laugh from Cristiano, a genuine sound that makes
butterflies flutter in my stomach. “Art history. I, unfortunately, would have
to write ‘this is a pipe’ to identify the mess I put on the canvas.”
“But it’s not a pipe! It’s just a set of scribbles that you hope sort of
resembles a pipe!” I grin and motion toward a nearby archway. “The second
floor has the Dada art. Maybe we’ll find one of your artworks there.”
“They’d better not have stolen one of my multi-million-dollar paintings
from my vault,” Cristiano drawls. “But yes, you’ve caught me. The art of
‘not’ art, absurdity, et cetera. That’s my specialty.”
We keep walking, discussing the paintings in hushed whispers and
ignoring any dirty stares from other museum goers. I stop in front of a few
of my favorite pieces, admiring them quietly, and I appreciate that Cristiano
doesn’t try to interrupt my thoughts.
It’s a nice date, really.
Until we get to the temporary gallery. I walk around the small barrier
and stop abruptly.
There’s only one painting in the first room, and it’s a large canvas that
takes up almost the entire wall space. It’s a mixture of various reds,
splattered across it haphazardly. The paint drips stand out in one corner,
while in another, it’s the texture of brushstrokes that draw my attention.
I stare at it, my mouth going dry.
Cristiano places his hand on the small of my back. “Fox? Is something
wrong?”
 I gasp and shake my head. “No. Um, let’s see…” I look around for the
labeling. “Red. Now there’s a creative title. Yeah. It’s… red.”
I close my eyes, but the image stays there, burned into my eyelids.
It looks like blood splatter. I can imagine several corpses all dumped on
a smooth, white tiled floor, blood mingling together, cooling at different
speeds. Turning dark and tacky.
Fuck.
“Fox?” Cristiano’s voice is distant, somewhere far away like an echo,
and he pulls me a little more closely to him.
I can’t move, though. I can’t do anything but stand there.
Why now? I’ve seen enough blood in my life. It’s just a painting. It’s
not even the right shade of red for blood. But that smear, like somebody had
dragged one of the bodies over it… And the drips from where blood
sprayed onto the wall and traveled down…
“Yep. Sorry. Um, I need to use the restroom.” I pull away from him,
pasting on a smile. “I’ll be right back.”
“Fox, are you—”
Before he can ask if I’m sure, or if I’m all right, or any other mundane
question, I dart away. I don’t want to give him time to see how truly
spooked I am.
I head to the closest restroom and go into one of the stalls, leaning
against the stall door and breathing heavily. After a few moments, I take the
gallery brochure out of my pocket and flip over to the page about this
temporary exhibit. The red painting isn’t in any of the photos. ‘New artists
from the last decade.’ Artist Michael Priory, age 32, born in New Bristol…
Nothing about his biography stands out. No mention of dead relatives, no
history with violence. Hell, his name implies he’s related to one of the
state’s senators. It’s just a coincidence that he painted something that looks
like my nightmares.
 I’m still staring at the brochure when I hear one of the sinks turn on. I
hadn’t noticed anybody else coming in. Cautiously, I peer through the small
gap between the stall and its door.
It’s not Cristiano standing there, washing his hands.
I squeeze my eyes shut, take another deep breath, and head out of the
stall.
The man is taller than I am, with dark brown hair that’s more gray at
this point. His nose is crooked, and his expression is set in a mild scowl.
Resting asshole face, I used to call it.
“Having a nice time?” he asks me, lathering the soap onto his hands.
“Yes,” I respond quietly. I glance toward the restroom door, unsure of
whether I want Cristiano to show up or not. “Hi, Corbin.”
“You failed.” Corbin rinses off his hands, but he leaves the water
running. “Finish the job by the weekend. I have another two lined up for
you.”
I nod obediently and reach into my pocket. I take the small paper I’d
prepared, and I hand it to him. He takes it without a word, and I watch as he
walks out.
Maybe I’d hoped he wouldn’t actually show up. That he’d given up on
me, and assumed I’d died. But I guess I should have known better.
I did know better, or I wouldn’t have asked for the date. I wouldn’t have
given Corbin the note with a summary of what had gone down.
It was a nice date, though. I’d been having fun until that painting.
I quickly rinse off my face, turn the water off, and go back out to the
gallery.
Cristiano’s expression is worried, and he steps forward to take my arm.
“Do you want to go back home? This may have been more than you were
ready for. We can order food and just rain check the rest of the date for
when you’re feeling better. I’m sorry. I should’ve insisted on waiting
longer.”
 I force myself to smile, and I lightly punch his arm. “No! I want to keep
looking around. I just really needed to piss. And adjust my cock a bit.” I
hold up the museum brochure. “Did you know, the fastest way to become a
renowned artist is to have rich and influential parents?”
Cristiano isn’t buying what I’m trying to sell, but he says, “That’s not
new information, little fox.”
“No wonder your art hasn’t been selling, Daddy.” I answer, hooking my
arms around his. “The other option is to die. If you hadn’t moved, your
scribbles would be worth millions by now.”
“Next time I’ll stand there and let myself be taken out, then,” Cristiano
says dryly. “Just so the world can come to know my exquisite Dadaist art.”
I lead him back to the temporary gallery, past that fucking red painting,
and toward the simpler, less provocative ones. “They wouldn’t classify you
as Dada anymore. You’d probably be filed under the ‘I could have done it
myself’ movement.”
“Ah, but they didn’t do it themselves,” Cristiano counters. “That’s
where my genius lies. If badly drawing a pipe and adding a sarcastic title
underneath is so easy, why haven’t all the masses done it already?”
I laugh, the sound maybe a bit brittle, but I appreciate that Cristiano is
playing along. “Exactly. Everybody can do a photorealistic rendition of a
pipe, or a car, or a human. But only you can draw those terrible sketches.” I
point toward a painting that apes Picasso’s style. “See? All this person did
was imitate somebody else. We know your works are simple, pure, free of
others’ influences.”
“Maybe I’ll show you one day so you can critique them properly,”
Cristiano says, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Yeah. That’d be fun. But be careful, I’m a harsh art critic.” It does
sound like fun, though. I wouldn’t mind sitting with Cristiano and painting
or drawing together, making fun of each other’s works. Even if they’re just
simple little scribbles, or paint splattered across a canvas.
Just as long as it’s not fucking red.
CHAPTER TEN
 FOX

W e stumble through the condo door, and I immediately turn to grip

Cristiano’s shirt and pull him down for a kiss. I can taste the expensive wine
on his lips, and I suck on his tongue as if to get more of the flavor.
Corbin had given me six days.
I can have fun with Cristiano for six days at least. I can let him spank
me and fuck me and drive me wild. Never mind that I don’t know who set
the bomb, or how they’d figured me out. Corbin wants Cristiano dead, so
it’s going to happen.
But it doesn’t have to happen now.
Cristiano groans into my mouth, but his hands are careful on my lower
back, avoiding the spots that are still trying to heal. They slide down to my
ass, resting there, and he kisses me back. “Did you have fun?” he murmurs
against my mouth.
“Yes,” I answer, grinding my crotch against his thigh. “So much. I’ve
been thoroughly wined and dined. My ass is definitely open for business
now.”
“Good to know I only had to drop a grand for you to drop your pants,”
Cristiano teases, squeezing my ass cheeks. “Cute, sweet little fox.”
I suck on his neck and start unbuttoning his shirt. “I wasn’t the one who
ordered the three-hundred-dollar bottle of wine.”
 “You were the one who ordered the two-hundred-dollar entree, though,”
he says, clucking his tongue as his hands move to squeeze my caged cock
through my pants. “And the dessert! Just because it said it had gold in it
didn’t mean you had to try it.”
“Well, you’re my Daddy, and I’m your boy. I think the rules say you
have to spoil me rotten.” I get my hands underneath his shirt and begin
roaming his hairy torso.
Cristiano chuckles. “Next time, I’m getting you a kid’s meal at a fast-
food joint so you can at least get a toy to remember the occasion by.”
His words strike me as odd. Does he know this little affair is coming to
a close soon? But I can’t imagine Corbin was careless enough to be spotted.
“Nope. I’m used to the expensive stuff now. I can’t ever go back to fast
food.” I break away from him so I can unbutton my own shirt. “One-
hundred-dollar bottles of wine will seem plebeian now. That’s basically box
wine.”
“I’ll have you know I grew up on box wine,” Cristiano says, though he
makes a face when he says it. He watches me keenly, his eyes hungrily
devouring every inch of flesh as it’s revealed to him. “It tasted fine at the
time, but then I had this bottle of wine that cost two grand at a gathering,
and nothing was ever the same afterwards.”
“At that point, you’re just tasting the dollar signs.” I throw my shirt
toward the couch and start working on my fly. “In a blind taste test, most
people cannot tell the difference between a cheap and an expensive wine.” I
pause my undressing and smile up at him. “I can definitely taste your bank
account though, so don’t think that’s an invitation to go skimping.”
“Yeah? And what does my bank account taste like, little fox?” It almost
sounds like he’s teasing, but there’s a slight edge to his voice. He’s probably
wondering just how much I do know about his bank account. “Should I
punish you for looking at things Daddy’s boy has no reason to know?”
 “You should definitely punish me,” I agree. “But your bank account
mostly tastes like paper and ink, and the $1,540 printed on the receipt
tonight.”
“Our waiter was phenomenal and deserved every cent of his tip,”
Cristiano says, his voice softening slightly as he looks me up and down. He
slides his own shirt off and tosses it off to the side, then grabs my hand.
“Bedroom. I want to look at your back before we get more distracted,
though.”
I groan in frustration. “My back is fine. The doctor cleared me for
moving around, anyway.”
“He said light movement, not rigorous exercise.” Cristiano leads me
toward the guest bedroom, the one I’ve been using. I wonder about what his
own bed looks like. Maybe the sheets are bright white, and he doesn’t want
to risk my back splitting open and bleeding all over it.
“This is light movement!” I protest. “We didn’t start fucking in a side
alley or parking garage, for one.”
I wouldn’t have minded if we had. The roughness of brick or concrete
against my back would probably have felt good, even.
“Because I absolutely would’ve forbidden it,” Cristiano says. His voice
is a low growl, and he opens the door to the room to let us inside. “Lie
down on your stomach. I want to have a good look at your back. If you
behave while I do, I might just fuck you after. Otherwise… it’s more
television and relaxation for you, pretty little fox.”
Christ, that sounds like hell right now, considering how badly my cock
wants to escape the cage. I know if I tried hard enough, I could come even
with the cage on, but it would be sad and unsatisfying.
“Fine, fine.” I wiggle my ass as I walk over to the bed and stretch out on
my stomach. I tilt my ass up and spread my legs, then look over my
shoulder with a sultry smile. “There’s one part of me you’re very welcome
to inspect.”
 “And I’m sure I’ll get right up in there to give it a nice, thorough
examination,” Cristiano says. He goes to the corner of the bed, grabbing
one of the manacles, and I tense. “Calm down, Fox. I’m just making sure
you don’t squirm too much and rip open your wounds.”
“Or you’re going to tie me up and leave me to suffer.” I pull my hands
closer to myself. “Come on, just spank me or something.”
“I’ll spank you once I’m sure you can handle it and not a minute
sooner,” Cristiano says. “Despite what happened the other night, I am a
responsible Dom.”
I consider him for a second. Well put-together, handsome, controlled…
but I don’t think he’s telling the truth. He thinks he’s a responsible Dom,
sure. But he lives in the mafia world, and I know he’s murdered and beaten
up people without a single shred of remorse.
Even if he didn’t fuck me the other night, I know he was getting off on
it too.
I want to see him lose control again.
“Yeah? Well, you can do that without tying me down,” I say, and very
pointedly start to roll over onto my back. I wonder how much effort it’ll
take to open up my wounds and bleed all over the sheets again.
He grabs me by the back of my neck and forces me to stay down on my
front, pushing my face into the blankets. “Stay put,” he growls. “I know
you’re unaccustomed to having someone take care of you, but as long as
you’re here in my care…” He slips a manacle around my wrist and snaps it
quickly into place. “Give me your other hand.”
“Fuck you, Daddy,” I say, jerking the manacled hand while hiding the
other one beneath my body. I don’t have a lot of leverage right now, but
he’s going to have to let go of my neck in order to grab my other wrist.
“One way or another, you’re going to end up on your stomach,” he says,
his voice deceptively calm. He doesn’t release the back of my neck as he
climbs onto the bed, sitting on the backs of my legs to hold me partially in
place. “And you’re going to stay there, and thank me for it when I’m done
with you.”
“I’ll thank you for it when you’ve actually done something worth
writing about.” I wait until he bends forward, then I snap my leg backwards
to kick him in the back. It’s not a particularly hard kick, but I must have
caught him off guard because his hand on my neck loosens. I jerk back hard
and elbow him in the stomach.
He lets out a grunt, and I can feel him double over. “You really are
angling for a beating,” he snarls, and I revel in the heat in his voice. There it
is. I can almost see the real him, the part of him that did spank me even
when I was bleeding, who got so single-mindedly focused on my pain that
he cared about nothing else. He just needs a little more needling.
I writhe and buck, and he ends up bracing a hand on my back. It digs
into one of my wounds, and I moan at the blossom of pain. Still, I’m not
gonna make it easy for him. I manage to twist onto my side, and I drive my
free hand up against his jaw.
His head snaps to the side to deflect some of the blow, but he snatches
at my wrist and forces it down onto the bed. “If you don’t stop fucking
fighting me, I will tie you to the bed and leave you here all alone while your
wounds continue to heal. You understand me, Fox?”
That would suck, but I refuse to give in. I grin at him. “Yeah? It won’t
be much different from what you’ve been doing so far.” I jerk my arm to
free myself, but his grip is absolute—and tightening, too, creating another
lovely point of pain. If not for the cock cage, I’d be hard and leaking now.
“I fuck good boys who deserve it,” Cristiano snarls. “You keep insisting
on trying to disobey.”
I can’t help it: I laugh in his face. Better to laugh than worry about the
way my heart pounds faster and my chest tightens uncomfortably. “Yeah?
How’d that work out for Luke? Got a lot of fucking from you, being such a
good little sub?”
 He shoves my face back down into the pillow, threatening to smother
me for a moment before letting me up. “You don’t know anything about me
and Luke,” he says, his voice harsh. “You don’t know anything about me
and… anyone else.”
He’s right. I don’t know about him and anyone else, because he’s never
been seen going anywhere with someone other than the occasional arm
candy. “I know he was a cute little twink who was desperate for your hand,
and you weren’t interested. I know the people at the club were resigned to
being temporary partners. If you like the good, obedient little subs so much,
how come you didn’t take one of them home?” I snap my teeth, for all the
good it does with my face angled toward the bed. “You had more fun
beating me bloody. Admit it, Daddy. You aren’t one of those soft, harmless
little doms they breed at those clubs.”
His breath is coming fast, ragged, but he refuses to say it, refuses to
admit it.
He finally pushes my wrist toward the other side of the bed, and even
though I buck and fight, he manages to get me bound to the bed.
I can hear him trying to catch his breath, and he stands—and sheer
panic washes over me, because… What if he really does just leave me all
alone? I struggle to my knees, making a point to moan at the pain.
My back feels wet, but I don’t smell blood. It’s probably just sweat. My
hair is clinging to my forehead too.
I reach out for the headboard and glance at him, wiggling my ass.
“Tired already? I thought you had more stamina than that, Daddy.”
“I have plenty of stamina,” Cristiano says.
I hear him unzip his pants and smile. Finally. I spread my legs and
wonder if he’s actually going to attempt to go in dry. It wouldn’t be the first
time a guy did, although I don’t think I’ve ever taken a guy as large as
Cristiano without prep.
 Clothing rustles, and I assume he’s shedding his pants. He grabs my
bare legs and pulls them down, forcing me to go from kneeling down to flat
on my stomach.
“Do I need to tie your legs down, too, or are you going to behave for
me?” he asks.
“I will never, ever behave,” I tell him with a laugh. “But I’ll hold still if
you start spanking me.” Just to show off how disobedient I am, I start
struggling to my knees again.
Cristiano lets out a frustrated sound and grabs my ankle, pulling it
toward the bedpost and getting the cuff around it. He squeezes my ass cheek
just once before going for the other leg.
“That’s not spanking!” I complain, wriggling that leg to make it harder
for him. I know I won’t do any more than delay the inevitable, but it’s still
fun.
Fuck. It is fun.
Which means I should get as much as I can out of tonight, and
tomorrow, and… and every night until I finally pull the trigger.
His grip is iron-tight on my other ankle as he forces it down, and after
another little bit of a struggle, he gets the last manacle on.
“Good boy,” he says, sounding breathless but smug somehow.
“Oh, fuck off,” I say, testing the chains. “I just spent twenty minutes
undermining you. That’s not good. I totally deserve a punishment, Daddy.”
“You do,” Cristiano says calmly, patting my ass. “And this is part of it.
I’m going to tell you all the things I enjoy about you, like your outstanding
independent streak.”
My smile turns brittle. “What the fuck does that mean?” I pull on the
wrist manacles again and attempt to roll over, but he’s a heavy weight on
top of me.
“That means I’m going to punish you like you’ve never been punished
before.” Despite the ominous words, I can tell he’s smirking even without
looking at me.
“So far, I’m not feeling anything.” I struggle some more, not liking the
turn of events. He’s supposed to be angry and hurting me, not… not
whatever the fuck he’s doing now.
“You’re feeling something,” he says, stroking one of my ass cheeks.
“You may not know what it is, but you’re feeling something, and you’re
feeling it intensely.” He sighs. “Do you know how beautiful you are, Fox?
Your gorgeous red hair, the slight sprinkling of freckles across your nose…
even the scars you’ve gotten over the years.”
For some reason, my cheeks flush. I look over my shoulder as best I can
with a half-frozen smile, willing my face to cool down. “Yep. I’m hot. And
I have a nice ass. Which is begging to be used.”
Of course I know I’m hot. That’s why it’s so easy for me to pick up
guys at gay clubs. They squeeze my ass and it’s clear exactly what they
want from me.
“It’s a great ass,” Cristiano agrees. He parts my ass cheeks, trailing a
finger along my hole. “And you have the cutest little hole. It’s amazing to
think my cock fits in there, isn’t it? That’s what you want right now. My
cock, plunging into your needy hole?”
I nod quickly. “So you probably should get to work. At your age, you
might start falling asleep soon, Daddy.”
Cristiano swats me on the ass. “I’m not done telling you what I like
about you yet,” he says.
“You don’t sound like a mafia guy,” I say, trying to deflect.
He ignores me, going on, “You were so good at the museum, you know
that? Perfectly well behaved. You stayed right next to me, keeping me
company, talking about art… How do you know so much about art, little
fox? I have university to blame. What’s your excuse?”
My entire body freezes, and I feel like I can’t breathe for a second.
“Fuck off,” I say quickly. “It’s none of your business. And you have the
saddest idea of good ever.”
He doesn’t know Corbin was there, right? He doesn’t suspect that I’d
snuck away to… to pass a message along.
“You’re the worst at taking a compliment ever,” Cristiano counters
dryly. “But that’s all right. I’ll get you used to accepting compliments…”
He sounds wistful as he trails off, like we don’t both know this is only
temporary.
He doesn’t know just how temporary it is, either.
“At dinner, you had beautiful manners,” Cristiano goes on. “You made
me proud to have you at my side.”
Proud? What the fuck. What the fuck. My chest starts contracting way
too fast, and it gets hard to breathe.
“Shut up,” I hiss, struggling for real now. “Stop running your mouth and
just get to the good part. Daddy.”
“You’re still being punished, my little fox,” Cristiano says. “You
remember how you insisted you were so bad and needed to be punished,
right? You’re still young and spry and with a good memory.”
“Punishments are beatings and whippings and spankings, not… not
some fucking words.” I try to fight, for all the good it does me. Punishments
are just supposed to hurt, and feel good when I push against the healing
wound, not do… whatever the fuck he’s doing to my head.
“But words are harder to handle than beatings and whippings and
spankings, and they last a lot longer,” he murmurs, stroking my ass cheek.
“Keep being a good little fox, and maybe I’ll reward you with a nice
spanking. Would you like that?”
Be a good little fox.
Maybe if you’d been good, none of this would have happened.
I should have kept the other one. He was the good one. You’re just a
fucking disgrace.
 “Fuck off!” I shout, writhing harder. “Just hit me like you want to! Stop
—”
Stop lying to me. Stop making me feel things.
“I don’t want to hit you,” Cristiano says, and his voice is quiet, sad
somehow. “I don’t want to bring you any pain that doesn’t feel pleasurable,
too.”
“Then fucking shut up!” I shout, angry that he ruined a perfectly good
evening, angry that he’s not fucking me, angry that he isn’t letting me just
forget everything else. “What do you want?” I laugh hysterically and
sarcastically add, “Please, Daddy, I’ll give you whatever you want, just stop
talking!”
“Oh, Fox,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss the top of my spine. “Fox,
Fox, Fox… I just want to find out everything about you and tell you all the
good things all the time until you start believing them. I want you to realize
you’re worth more than just being fucked and used and… beaten.”
But I’m not.
I shake my head frantically and blink rapidly, trying to drive off the
strange burn in my eyes. “Stop. Please. Daddy, please stop,” I beg more
desperately. “I don’t want to hear this.”
Cristiano kisses down my spine, his breathing getting more ragged. “Do
you know how beautiful you sound when you beg?” he murmurs. “I could
just… listen to that forever. For you to beg for me to stop, to keep going…”
He laughs, and the sound is a little dark. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m
not one of those good doms I want to be.”
“I’m begging now.” My voice is ragged. “You can do all sorts of things
to me. Fuck me dry, spit on me, piss in me—I don’t care, as long as it’s
not…”
I’m not good.
If I were good, I wouldn’t be here now.
If I were good, Corbin wouldn’t have punished me as much as he did.
 If I were good, there wouldn’t have been a red painting on my kitchen
floor.
“As long as it’s not what, Fox?” Cristiano asks, his voice impossibly
gentle. “As long as it’s not kind? As long as I’m not telling you these good
things about yourself?”
“They’re lies,” I sob, and more sweat drips down my cheeks. I bury my
head in the pillow to wipe it away. “Let me go. Please. I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“Shh,” he says, stroking my hair. “Shh, Fox. Shh. It’s all right. It’s all
right. You can cry, but those things… they’re true. I’ve said nothing that’s
not true. You just may not be able to see it that way.”
“I’m not…” I inhale sharply. “I’m not crying.”
Fuck. Just like I didn’t cry the other day. I’d been trying to forget about
it.
I shake my head to dislodge his hand, but he keeps petting me softly.
“Do you still want me to fuck you, Fox?” Cristiano murmurs, nipping
my back before lifting his head up again.
I sob pathetically. “I don’t know, Daddy,” I answer plaintively. I do
know that I want him to shut up, but I don’t want him to leave, and I
definitely don’t want to be alone.
He gets up, and I’m terrified he’s going to go for the door. Before I can
choke out a single word, though, he goes to the bedside table and pulls
out… a bottle of lube.
He squirts it into his hand, and I want to cry even harder from sheer
relief. This… This I can handle. I’m familiar with this. I want this.
But instead of just lubing up his hard cock and drilling it into me, he
comes back to sit next to me. One hand spreads my ass cheeks, while the
other dips slowly into my hole.
“Please,” I beg, trying to spread my legs but too exhausted to get
anywhere. “I don’t… I don’t need prep.”
 “You do,” he counters. “I don’t want to hurt you. Not like that. I want
you to feel things differently.” He sighs. “I think you need to feel things
differently.”
I don’t. I just need to get pounded, and to lose myself in the pain and the
sensations. But I can’t do anything anymore except lie there and take it. I let
out a pathetic moan as he fingers me gently and massages my prostate, my
cock suddenly stirring and attempting to get hard in the cock cage.
“How does that feel?” he murmurs. “Should I take the cage off and let
you really feel it? Or do you think you need to be denied?” He slides his
other hand around me despite his words, cupping the cage in his broad
hand.
I sob and shake my head. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“Shh,” Cristiano says. “Shh. You don’t need to decide. You don’t need
to think. Just let me take care of you. Turn onto your side.” He pulls the
small key from the drawer as well, and I sob again as he frees my cock from
the metal cage. “There. There you go.” He rubs my cock slowly, taking it
into his hand and stroking it. “How does that feel, Fox? My good little fox.”
I only cry harder. My head fuzzes up, a mixture of humiliation and
pleasure and that fucking word bouncing around inside me, taunting me.
Despite all that, my cock does get harder in his hand, as if to say my own
thoughts have no input on this.
“I like it when my subs cry,” Cristiano murmurs. “So cry for me. Get it
out, Fox. Feel my hand around your cock, and get ready to feel my cock in
your ass. Is that what you want? To feel me inside of you?”
“Yes,” I say shakily. “Please.”
I want to feel him. I want something to get rid of the emotions inside
me. I need…
I need him.
He releases my cock, and my lips part as I almost beg him to keep
touching me. But his fingers go back to my hole, exploring and stretching.
“Enjoy the feeling, Fox. My good little fox. My good boy. You’re being so
good for me right now. You were so good for me earlier. You deserve this.
Don’t you? Tell me you deserve this, and I’ll fuck you.”
I don’t. I know I don’t deserve nice things. My sobs get harder, and I
shake my head. “I... I can’t, Daddy, I don’t…”
How can he be so fucking nice to me when I tried to kill him once
already, when I’m going to kill him in a matter of days?
“You can. You do,” Cristiano says firmly. “Tell me.” His fingers crook,
and he insistently rubs my prostate. “You don’t have to mean it yet.”
Yet.
For the first time, I realize he may be thinking we’re playing for keeps,
despite the world we come from, and it only makes me cry harder.
“I…” My voice catches, but I force myself to continue. “I deserve it.
I’m your… I’m your good boy.”
Fuck. My sobbing only gets worse. I must look disgusting now, a mess
of tears and sweat, but Cristiano groans and leans forward to kiss my still-
healing back. He keeps rubbing my prostate for a moment, but he whispers
against my back, “Good. So good for me. Such a good boy, my Fox.”
He withdraws his fingers at long last, and after another sound of the
lube bottle opening, he presses the slick head of his cock against my hole.
Slowly but surely, he starts to press inside of me.
I let out a half-moan, half-sob, but he only strokes my back and keeps
going. He keeps murmuring those fucking words—good boy, good Fox, my
good little Fox, mine, mine, mine…
I’ve been fucked plenty, but this is the first time I’ve felt so wrung out
before I’ve barely even started. I cling to the chains, wanting to meet his
thrusts but not having the energy to even lift my hips. All I can do is take
him, feel him. He’s filled me completely, consumed me, turned me into this
pathetic, sobbing mess and he still fucking wants me.
 He leans down over and over, kissing my spine, kissing my back,
contorting into awkward angles that can’t be comfortable. One of his hands
slides under me, and while he can’t exactly stroke my cock with me lying
face-down on the bed, he still touches me. It feels so fucking good, my cock
awkwardly sliding across his palm with no grace or rhythm while he
pounds into me.
The pleasure builds, spreading throughout my body and making it even
harder to think. Nothing else matters. Just this primal rut, just his heat, his
words repeated endlessly.
It’d be nice if they were true.
Cristiano’s pace picks up, and he starts to thrust more forcefully into
me. My back twists, and he puts his other hand down on it to still me like
I’m just supposed to take it and I do. I take it, and he takes from me, too,
and I give, and it’s all some overwhelming cycle.
It takes me aback when he spills into me, letting out a harsh groan. He
goes still for a moment, but then he’s back to touching me, attending to me,
stroking me and tilting me.
“P-please, Daddy,” I beg, not really sure what I want.
Cristiano rolls me onto my side and presses himself along my back, his
softening cock against my ass. He reaches around to stroke my cock
properly, and that would be enough to get me off.
But he starts kissing me too, along my shoulder, my neck, my ear.
“Good boy,” he growls, rubbing his thumb over my leaking tip. “Can
you come for me? Be a good boy, Fox, and let go.”
I cry out, and I didn’t think I was waiting for permission, but I come
from those words, spilling over his hand as pleasure rushes through my
body.
He keeps gently touching me, until the point where I’m ready to beg for
him to stop. He seems to sense it, though, because he pulls his hand back—
then puts it right in front of my mouth.
 “Lick,” he says hoarsely. “I want to see you clean my hand.”
I should fight the order, I think, but all defiance has fled my body. I
obediently lean forward and lick the palm of his hand, drinking my bitter
fluids with small, cat-like laps.
“Good. Good boy. That’s Daddy’s good boy,” Cristiano murmurs. He
nuzzles my neck. “You’re so good for cleaning up your messes.”
Only when his hand is completely clean does he pull away and collapse
onto the bed next to me, and there’s just enough give in the chains to where
he can pull me against him. There’s not a lot of room, but he seems to make
it work.
I stare at the manacles and wonder if I should ask him to remove them.
But speaking feels like too much trouble, and I’m warm and comfortable
and floaty.
I close my eyes and enjoy the sound of his breathing.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
 CRISTIANO

I’ ve never had sex that intense before.

I’ve had good sex, I’ve had middling sex, and I’ve had bad sex… but
never something as mind-blowing as that. Fox cried for me, called me
Daddy, obeyed me—and I’m pretty sure I’m ruined for anyone else.
I decided somewhere in the middle of that that I’m going to keep him.
He’s mine, whether he wants to be or not, and I’m not letting him go. He
can be an assassin, my pet assassin, if he needs to risk his life for the sake
of adrenaline or money or whatever else motivates him.
I need to find out. I need to know more about him, but I don’t want to
break the peaceful silence between us.
I must fall asleep, comfortable and lulled into a sense of security by his
presence, even though that’s fucking stupid. Briar would have my head if
they knew I’d let down my guard with Fox, and they’d be right to ream me
out over it. But I can’t help it.
I hear Fox’s breathing change, hear him wake up, though he says
nothing either. Does he want me to think he’s still asleep? Should I interrupt
this perfect moment?
My eyes travel to his ass again, and I grimace, remembering that I’d
forgotten to use a condom. I’d meant to. The condom is still there on the
bedside table. But when I’d seen him sobbing for me, I couldn’t deny him
any longer. I’d needed to feel him properly, to let him know that I was here
for him.
Excuses, excuses.
Fox lifts one hand, the chains jangling, and drops it down again.
“Are you going to make me cry every time we fuck?” Fox asks darkly.
I don’t know what to make of his tone. I don’t know what to make of
the entire situation, truth be told, and I let out a long sigh. “I don’t plan on
it, no.” But I can’t deny that I loved it. I can’t deny that his tears make my
cock hard. Hearing him say he was my good boy, that he deserved to
come… Fuck. Can I really resist doing that again?
“Well. You can unchain me. And get the fuck out.” Fox curls into
himself, putting some space between our bodies. “Just… leave me the fuck
alone.”
I don’t want to unchain him. I don’t want to give him the chance to go
anywhere.
I don’t want to leave him alone, either. I have a feeling it would leave
him in a dark place. But I’ve already pushed him so hard that I’m not sure
it’s a good idea to keep going. If he doesn’t want me here, I should respect
that.
Just like you respected it the last time? The nasty voice in the back of
my mind reminds me that I might’ve really fucked up by pushing so hard.
Just because Fox came doesn’t mean he really wanted this, wanted me, but
at the same time…
What kind of dom would I be if I left a sub alone when they’re clearly
risking sub drop?
Does Fox even understand what that is?
I have a feeling he’s never been with someone who cares, and the more
he tries to push me away, the more I want to cling to him.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say quietly. “I won’t touch you if
you don’t want me to, and I’ll unchain you, but I’m going to get you water
and another blanket and sit with you until you fall back asleep.”
Actually, I don’t even need to leave to do that. I fumble for my pants,
getting out my phone, and text Briar. Bring me two large glasses of water
and a blanket please. Prisoner’s room.
“I wanted you to hit me,” Fox says quietly. “What gives you the fucking
right to… to…” He breaks off and turns his head toward the pillow.
And a wet cloth, I add.
It only takes Briar a few seconds to reply, and it gives me a moment to
gather my thoughts. I don’t know what to say to Fox.
Yes, Your Highness.
Asshole.
But Briar will do it, leaving me to be able to focus on the real issue:
Fox.
“To compliment you?” I ask quietly, setting my phone down so I can
focus on Fox. “I can always hit you, Fox, but I don’t want you associating
me with other people. I want you to see me as someone new, as something
new.”
“Who the fuck else would you be? I don’t know any other assholes like
you.” Fox continues to avoid my gaze. “Are you going to unchain my hands
or what?”
“Yes,” I say. “And Fox… As soon as your back is better, as soon as I
have a blank slate, I’ll flog you, paddle you, spank you… Anything you
want.” My voice has gone hoarse, and I don’t even know why. “But I’m not
going to hurt you while you’re already hurting.” I start with his ankles, half-
expecting him to kick me, but he stays completely still.
Even when I’ve released his wrists, all he does is pull the blanket closer
to wrap it around himself.
A knock sounds on the door, then it opens, and Briar peeks their head
inside. They have their hair pulled up into a messy bun on the top of their
head, and they’re wearing a worn shirt and pajama pants. I’d apologize for
waking them, but they get paid high dollar to be on call.
They bustle in, avoiding looking at Fox, and set two glasses of water on
the nightstand. A blanket is draped over their arm, and they have a wet
cloth in their other hand.
“Thank you,” I tell them, bowing my head in a nod. “That’s all I need.”
Briar glances at Fox, just for a moment, and my protective instincts
have me shifting in front of him so they can’t see him well. “Are you sure
you don’t need food? Anything else?”
“Are you hungry, Fox?” I ask gently.
“Fuck off,” Fox answers, not moving from under the covers.
Briar scoffs, but after a glance at me, they head for the door. At least
they aren’t saying anything negative, which is an improvement. They don’t
like being woken from their beauty sleep.
“No, we’re fine. You can go back to bed,” I say.
Briar salutes me, and if the situation wasn’t so serious, I’d throw
something at them. They leave the room and close the door quietly behind
them.
“You need some water,” I tell Fox. “But let me wipe you down first.
You can’t be comfortable with cum drying on you.”
“Better than blood,” Fox says, but he doesn’t fight as I begin wiping
him down.
That’s more worrying than if he had struggled against me. I don’t know
what to make of this despondent version of Fox. “Better than blood,” I
agree anyway. “But even so.” I finish cleaning him up, then toss the cloth
onto the nightstand. I grab a glass of water. “Time to get something to drink
inside of you.”
I hold out the water to Fox, who gives me a blank look. When I try to
place the glass into his hands, he fumbles and spills some of the water
before I catch it.
 I sigh and slide into bed again, holding the glass steady. “Here, sit up
against me,” I say, although I don’t give him much of a choice. I grab his
arms and haul him up so he’s against the headboard with me.
Fox finally attempts to fight me, but his struggling is short-lived. After
only a few moments, he slumps against me, and I place my arm around the
back of his waist.
“I told you to leave me alone,” Fox mumbles. “You’re an idiot to bed
me.”
“I’m fascinated by you,” I admit. “Maybe that makes me an idiot, but
you’re the first person to make me feel… like this.” Letting out a slow sigh,
I hold up the glass. “Drink this, Fox.” I don’t give him much of a chance to
argue, pressing it against his lips.
Fox parts his lips for the water, and I feel my cock stirring as I watch
him drink obediently. His throat bobs with every swallow, tempting me to
kiss it.
After he’s drunk most of the glass, Fox turns his head away, and the
remaining liquid spills out over his chin and chest.
I right the glass and set it aside. I reach for the blanket Briar left, and I
drape it over Fox. He may not realize it, but he’s shivering. I didn’t have to
hurt him physically to get this sort of reaction from him, which makes me
wonder just how few people have been kind to him.
If Cresci knew what I was thinking, he’d laugh and laugh.
Cristiano Fiore, being kind to a captive? It really is laughable.
“I’m not your good boy,” Fox says suddenly, his voice still despondent.
“You don’t even know me. I’m just a hot twink you managed to tie up.”
“Is that all you think you are?” I ask, my voice quiet, somber. “Just a
hot twink? What about a talented assassin? Fearless? Strong enough to get
up even when you have to be in immense pain—maybe enjoying that pain,
but still able to take it and keep moving like nothing’s wrong. You’re so
much more than just physically attractive, Fox.”
 You’re mine, I want to say. I’ve never been this obsessed over someone
before, and I don’t know how to express that without scaring him.
“Talented assassin? I failed to kill you.” Fox chuckles and buries his
head in my shoulder. “I can’t fail again. He said I have another six days.
Five days?”
I start to speak, but then his words reach me. My mouth goes dry. How
is Fox getting orders? “Who told you that?” I demand, my grip tightening
on him. “When?”
Is he really planning on killing me? After all of this?
Then again, after last night, he might be more eager than ever to get rid
of me.
“Guess you can have my social security number after all.” Fox digs his
fingers into my chest, his nails catching over my heart. “Corbin. He doesn’t
like it when I fail.”
Corbin.
He’s been in contact with Corbin.
I grab his wrist, ignoring the sting of his nails but not wanting him to be
distracted. “When did you see him?” I demand.
Fox stares at my hand around his wrist and flexes his fingers. “At the
museum. It’s where we usually meet if we’ve been forced to lay low for a
while. I figured he’d be watching somehow.”
I can’t help the betrayal that sweeps over me, the way an ache starts to
eat away at me and threatens to overwhelm me. I shove those feelings aside,
trying instead to remember all I’ve heard about Corbin. One of my
informants has been able to find out a little more, though not much. I know
he had a reputation for being scarily good. I only know he’s alive because
Fox mentioned him.
And for some reason, Corbin wants me dead.
A contract, probably, though from who… I doubt Fox knows the details.
A third party probably contacted Corbin, who then gave orders to Fox. “Do
you really want to go back to him?” I ask quietly. “Because if you kill me,
that’s what you’ve decided.”
“At least he only beats me,” Fox says, tugging at his hand in an attempt
to escape my grasp. “He doesn’t make me cry like you do.”
I release his wrist, but I pull him in close to me. Mindful of his back,
which is somehow healing despite the constant abuse he keeps putting his
body through, I still hold him tight. “Sometimes crying can be cathartic.”
Especially in battered and beaten boys, who weren’t brought to love the
pain but instead to fear it and crave it out of some misguided sense of
needing to be punished
Fox shakes his head. “Crying is for pathetic, weak little shits.” He drops
his hand down to my lap. “I think I’ll use a kitchen knife and stab you in the
shower.”
My father had told me something similar. Crying is for babies. Crying
isn’t for me.
But when I’d lost Max, I had cried and cried, and I hadn’t felt weak
because of it. The tears had washed away my blurred vision and left me
clear-sighted at the end, sure of what I needed to do.
“I think I’ll keep you away from the kitchen knives, then,” I say a bit
dryly. “But thanks for the warning.”
Five days.
“What happens after five days?” I ask, not quite wanting to know the
answer to the question but needing it regardless. “Another assassin will
come for me? You’ll get beaten senseless for not managing to get the job
done yourself?”
“He’ll step in himself, probably.” Fox sighs and tugs on the hair on my
belly. “And he’ll punish me because there’s no place for mistakes in this
world.”
I brush some hair out of his eyes. It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but his
eyes are still a bit red from the crying.
 Corbin has to be a fucking coward.
I’ve beaten men who made simple mistakes before, men who failed to
get the job done, but not when they were children—and I’m almost certain
Fox was a child when he landed in Corbin’s tender care. To continue to
abuse him physically when it’s clear only a few words can shatter him…
I’m not going to be a sitting duck. I’m not going to wait for Fox to take
a lucky shot at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention. I’m not going
to let Corbin take me out either. I’m going to use every bit of information
I’ve gained from Fox to hunt the fucker down and make sure he never sees
me coming even when I’m on his doorstep.
“You know you could escape that,” I say, my voice sober. “You know
where he is. You could make this easy.” Why I think Fox would choose me
over Corbin, when I’m someone he barely knows, is beyond even me. But I
have to try—and this time, I won’t go in without sufficient backup.
“Yeah. Sure. Because I’m such a…” His voice hitches, “... such a good
person that I can just fit right in with normal society. Not to mention how
I’m probably on a lot of people’s most wanted list.”
“Fuck society,” I tell him, tilting his head up to look at me. “You’d
come and work for me, for Silvano. How many people know what you look
like? How many people know you as Fox? I could offer you a new life,
little fox. One without beatings you don’t want.”
Fox’s lips part, and his eyes widen. “I…” He trails off.
I wait patiently. This is something he has to decide for himself.
Then his expression changes. “Right, Silvano.” Fox pulls away from
me. “I was going to say. Are you sure you trust him? Because at the club…
I don’t know. He gave me a vibe.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, frowning at him. “He’s Cresci’s son, his
underboss. We’ve been friends for years. He’ll be taking over when Cresci
retires. It’s all but guaranteed that I’ll be his underboss or continue as
consigliere. I’ve earned more than that, though, over the years.”
 Fox shrugs. “You know him better than I do. But it was something
about the way he looked at you. Hell, how he looked at me.” Then he
smirks, and it’s such a relief to see him smiling again. “Also, my gaydar
was pinging really loudly around him. Unrelated to the weird feeling I got
from him.”
I consider for a moment. I don’t want to immediately dismiss the
concerns of someone whose senses have been honed to a fine point over the
years, but Silvano has been good to me. He knows my loyalty to him is
second only to his father.
“I don’t have a finely tuned gaydar,” I say slowly. “I haven’t had a real
encounter with a man since…” My own mood drops, and it’s my turn to
pull away slightly. “Let’s just say it’s been a very, very long time. Until you,
I thought I might be cured.”
“Yep, that’s me. My twink powers are so strong, I turn even the
straightest of men.” Fox wiggles his fingers in a ‘spooky’ manner. “I bet I
could seduce Silvano.”
Even the thought of it is enough to make my hackles raise, and I glare at
him. “Maybe you could, but you’re not going to,” I snap. “Don’t get any
ideas, Fox. You’re mine. Understand?” I grab him by the back of the neck
and pull him in hard, kissing him, demanding that he open his mouth to me
as I thrust my tongue inside.
Fox groans and yields, allowing—no, inviting—me to conquer him with
just this kiss. He clutches at my sides and starts to lean back, dropping to
the mattress and pulling me on top of him.
“More, Daddy,” Fox moans, rolling his hips.
If the last time hadn’t been so intense, I might even have been able to go
again.
I groan, kissing him with all the hunger I feel, all the need, as though
this is the last time I’ll ever have him beneath me like this.
 Considering the fact that I plan to chain him to my bed for the next five
days, it might well be.
CHAPTER TWELVE
 FOX

“I’ m going with you ,” I tell Cristiano. He stops mid-movement, one foot
already in his nice shoes while he’s tying the laces on the other.
“No,” Cristiano says flatly. “You’re staying here, and I’m going to chain
you to the bed so you can’t cause trouble.”
I cross the distance between his bedroom door and where he’s sitting on
the ottoman in front of the bed. I’ve already put on a suit, courtesy of the
clothes stashed in Briar’s room. Briar will never have to know.
“I have a list of reasons.” I wait for his glower, then continue, “One:
you’re still being targeted, and we don’t know by whom. Me being with
you could draw them out. Two: I am very, very good at reading people.
Even if nobody is out to kill you, I could help with your business. Three:
You said you wanted to make me part of your gang. And four…” I get
down on my knees, put my arms on his thighs, and look up at him. “Please,
Daddy?”
Cristiano’s breath catches, and he stares down at me. “You’re also down
to two days to kill me,” he points out. “How do I know Corbin isn’t stalking
us, where he’ll give you a weapon to take me out when I’m least expecting
it?”
“Nah, that’s not his style.” I smile widely. “He wouldn’t risk getting
seen at an event crawling with former clients, and he definitely wouldn’t
bother helping me fix my mistakes.” I run my hands up his thighs. “I
already got all dressed up, too. Don’t you want to show me off to the world,
Daddy?”
He touches my chin, tilting my head up a little more. “Briar’s going to
murder you if they realize you borrowed one of their suits,” he says. He
smirks down at me. “Well, that would solve one problem for me.”
I nod agreeably. “Yep. Because if they attack me, it’ll be self-defense
when I shoot them point blank.” I mouth at his knee for a second. “Maybe
you should have bought a suit for me when you got me clothes for our date.
Then I’d be wearing your clothes, and not one of your conquest’s.”
Fuck, I hate how much I wish he had. I can already imagine him picking
out clothes for me, making me model for him, forcing me to stand perfectly
still while he pretends to measure me…
Marking me as his own.
I keep thinking back to what he’d said. That he would make a space for
me with him. I know it’s too good to be true, I know that I can’t rely on
something like that.
But, what if…
“I told you, Briar isn’t a conquest. Briar is an employee who’s paid to be
on hand for me whenever I need them—and not for sex. I’ve never had sex
with Briar, and I’m not interested in Briar. Nor is Briar interested in me,”
Cristiano says.
“Sure. But if you leave me here, I’ll escape my chains and start really
provoking Briar.” I bite his thigh, though I don’t know how much he’ll feel
through the heavy wool slacks. “The point is, Daddy… you should take me
along to your fancy party with all the big, strong men.”
Cristiano sighs, stroking the back of my neck. “Maybe you should make
it worth my time. I’ll be risking my life if I take you along,” he points out.
“You want me to blow you first? And get your suit pants all wrinkled?”
I ask, feigning horror. “Also, your fancy party starts in ten minutes, so if we
don’t leave now, we’ll be past fashionably late and straight into insultingly
late.”
“You’re lucky your hair looks very nice,” Cristiano says, “or I’d be
grabbing you by it and forcing you down there anyway.”
That is extremely tempting. He’d shown me just how rough he could be
the past few days. In the shower, over the sofa, by the kitchen counter—just
in time for Briar to walk in, exactly like I’d planned. But my libido aside, I
do actually want to get to this party.
I can’t risk somebody other than me taking Cristiano out first.
Yeah, and maybe I should try to figure out who rigged the warehouse to
blow. I’m still not sure I was actually an intended target, but better safe than
sorry.
“That sounds like a yes,” I say, sitting back just enough that I can help
Cristiano lace up the second shoe.
“That sounds like a, I’m going to get myself killed,” Cristiano mutters.
“Because that’s probably what’s going to happen if I take you with me.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior.” I snap my mouth jokingly, then sigh.
“Seriously though, we’ll have a better chance of sussing out if any of your
allies have it out for you if I’m there too. They don’t know me, and I might
be able to notice things you wouldn’t since I’m bringing in outside eyes.
And I do actually know how to be discreet. You never noticed me in the
warehouse at all, did you? Until I started shooting.”
He grimaces. “No, I didn’t notice you. I should have. You’ll have to tell
me how you got around the cameras and security. It shouldn’t have been
possible.” Shaking his head, Cristiano stands, and he places a kiss to the top
of my head. “Let’s go, then. But I swear to you, Fox, if you misbehave, I
will not take you over my knee and spank you when we get home.”
“Understood, Daddy.” I get up, brace myself on his knees, and lean in
for a kiss. “I won’t give you a reason to make me cry again.”
 “Pity,” he says. “I enjoy your tears.” Before I can respond, he’s on his
way to the door, and he crosses the threshold into the hallway. “Grab the
jacket that goes with that suit.”
I do as ordered, and we make our way to Giovanni Cresci’s residence in
the rich outskirts of New Bristol. I note the route we take to get there and
plot out a potential escape route if it comes down to it.
As Cristiano parks the car in Cresci’s enormous driveway, I attempt to
open the glove compartment. It’s locked, and Cristiano gives me a strange
look.
“What are you looking for?” he asks.
“The gun you have stashed in there,” I answer. I let go of the glove
compartment and fumble underneath the passenger seat until my fingers
snag on something. It’s not a gun, but I guess it’ll do. I lift up the sheathed
knife and examine it.
“What’s under your seat?” I ask him. “If I’m going to play your
bodyguard, I should be armed with more than just this.”
He reaches over to unlock the glove compartment, pulling out a gun
from inside. He checks the safety and shakes his head. “I must be absolutely
fucking insane handing you a gun,” he mutters. “You could just shoot me
now and drive away with my body in the car.”
I laugh and take the gun from him. “I’d have to move your body from
the driver’s seat! All those people milling around might notice. Not to
mention the sound. These hardened gangsters might actually know what a
gunshot sounds like.”
I check to make sure the gun is loaded—it is—and holster it on the
inside of the jacket. How very convenient that Briar’s jacket includes extra
straps for just that. I slip the knife into a pocket.
“Nobody will ever know it’s there,” I joke.
Cristiano rolls his eyes. “I’m not getting you a new one if it gets
confiscated at the door.”
 I have a plan for that, too. It’s a bit of sleight of hand and distraction,
but the guards don’t notice me slipping the knife and gun past the metal
detector.
“Your new bodyguard doesn’t look like he could handle a child, let
alone any real threats,” the guy attending the door says to Cristiano. “I can
hook you up with my buddy Adam. He’ll be more imposing than… this.”
Cristiano offers him a bland smile. “Thanks. I might take you up on that
if this one doesn’t work out.” He gestures curtly for me to follow, aloof and
distant in a way he’s never been with me before. I don’t like it, even if I
understand the need to play a role.
With all that out of the way, we head toward the grand hall where the
party is set up. I recognize a good chunk of the men there, the underworld
elite of New Bristol. I’ve probably worked jobs for some of them, even if
we’ve never met face to face. There are the usual girlfriends—and paid
women—there too, and big men with dour faces daring anyone to get close
to their charges.
Cristiano leads us to Don Cresci, who is holding his metaphorical court
near the center of the hall. Silvano is with him, as is an unfamiliar, tall man
with dark hair and a scruffy beard.
“Don Cresci, Silvano,” Cristiano greets. He turns to the unfamiliar man.
“Rossi. I haven’t seen you in a while. Is Pavone with you?”
Rossi sighs. “Not yet. He’s… stuck in traffic.”
Stuck in traffic? I don’t remember there being much traffic on the way
in. Rush hour ended a few hours ago too, although I suppose it depends on
where they’re driving in from.
“Rossi was telling us about a few interesting arrangements they’ve
made,” Silvano says. “If we have some empty containers, we might want to
help them move a few shipments here and there. Pavone has really gotten
into collecting art, too, and could use somebody to help him on that front.”
 Cristiano nods and starts chatting with them, but I tune out most of their
words. I’m more interested in how Silvano’s eyes rove over my body.
Definitely gay.
I smile knowingly at him, and he quickly averts his gaze. Is that because
he doesn’t want his father to realize he’s into men? Or does he suspect
something about me?
Fuck, I wish I could remember more about the evening we’d met. He’d
given me a strange vibe, but after the spanking…
“I see Giulio,” Rossi suddenly says. “Excuse me.” I watch as he walks
toward the front of the hall, where he meets with a handsome man in a well-
tailored suit… and sandals? I’d heard Giulio Pavone was eccentric, but I’m
not sure I could forgive a man who wears sandals with a suit.
“Ugh, I hoped he wouldn’t show up,” Cresci grumbles. “Rossi is great,
but I can’t stand Pavone.”
“I don’t recommend getting into a fight with him,” Silvano says with
wry amusement.
“No, we have our hands full with the Winters clan. I’d rather keep
Pavone on our side.” Cresci shakes his head and claps Silvano on the
shoulder. “Anyway, I should chat with others as well. You two, see if you
can’t suss out who has it out for us.”
Cristiano nods, though I’m willing to bet he’s just humoring Cresci. In a
room full of mobsters, who doesn’t have it out for them? He glances at me,
mouthing “sandals?” He shakes his head.
Silvano is looking at me again, more openly now that his father has
walked away, and Cristiano looks between us. He tenses slightly, obviously
getting the same vibes I am from Silvano.
“It looks like you’re feeling better,” Silvano says to me. “And you clean
up nicely. Admittedly, though, red suited you quite well, too.”
Cristiano turns his gaze back to Silvano, his eyes narrowing slightly, but
he doesn’t comment.
 I give him a brittle smile. “I might still be wearing some red underneath
all of this.”
“How would you like to approach your father’s request?” Cristiano
says, interrupting the fledgling conversation. “I’m sure there’s no shortage
of hostility here.”
Silvano shrugs and makes a dismissive gesture. “We can try some of
Dan’s old associates, and I see the Russians have arrived. You probably
need to discuss the new shipments with them anyway. And thank them for
the vodka. I’ll chat with Giulio later, too. I don’t think he’d be rocking the
boat, but who knows with him.”
“Sounds like a plan. Come along, Fox.” Cristiano squeezes my shoulder
and starts heading toward the buffet table.
I give Silvano one more glance before following behind.
Parties like these are interesting, because for all that everybody attempts
to be secretive and discreet, you can see where the lines are. Everybody
mingles more with their compatriots than with those they’re less fond of. I
notice some of the women are going from group to group, and I wonder
how many of them are just there for entertainment, and how many are
eavesdropping. Nobody thinks the eye candy could possibly be smart, after
all.
One blonde woman with a pixie cut meets my eyes, and something
about her gaze makes me bristle. Then she winks at me and licks her lips
suggestively. I quickly turn my attention back to Cristiano and the men he’s
talking to.
“Fiore,” the largest of the Russians greets. He has dirty blond hair, a
thick beard, and arms the size of my thighs. I probably do not want to get
into a fist fight with him. “I heard you had some trouble.”
Cristiano chuckles darkly. “You could say that.” He doesn’t look at me,
but I can tell he’s perfectly aware of where I am.
“Who is this?” the Russian asks, gesturing to me.
 “My new bodyguard,” Cristiano answers without missing a beat.
“Him?” The man laughs, and his compatriots join in. “I could break him
over my knee.”
I laugh along with them. “Yes, probably. Unless there’s a bullet in your
knee. Or in the back of your skull.”
The big Russian stops laughing. “Big talk for a tiny man. But go away. I
don’t deal with strangers.”
Cristiano’s expression doesn’t change. I doubt he’s surprised by the
demand.
I look at Cristiano and shrug casually. “Fine by me, if you think you’re
safe here. I need a drink, anyway.”
“I’ll be fine,” Cristiano says, waving dismissively at me. “Stay within
sight.”
I wander over to the open bar and order a glass of white wine. As I wait,
Silvano approaches and orders an expensive red.
“Is Pavone as difficult to deal with as I’ve heard?” I ask, genuinely
curious. It’s always good to know more about the dangerous men in the city.
Silvano makes an amused noise. “Yes and no. But he often agrees to my
ideas because they sound ‘fun,’ so I suppose that’s all that matters.” He
raises his wine glass to me. “Your Daddy let you wander free?”
I clink my glass against his. I must have said some stupid things in front
of him, and while I cringe internally at my carelessness, I don’t let my
displeasure show. “Apparently. He’s busy playing with bigger, tougher
men.”
We both sip on our wine for a moment, assessing each other.
“You know…” Silvano brings his hand up to the back of my neck,
squeezing only briefly before dropping it again. “...if you’re into rough
play, there are people who do it better than Cristiano.”
Fuck off, I almost snap at him. I’ve fucked around plenty, but nobody’s
ever done it better than Cristiano.
 But I’m sure that’s the reaction he wants. I need to be smart, and use
every opportunity presented to me. I angle myself so I’m leaning just a bit
closer to him. “Oh yeah? Who would you recommend? I might have some
free time right now.”
Silvano covers his mouth to suppress a laugh. “Brazen. Boys like you
can be fun. Come on, I’ll introduce you to a friend of mine.”
He walks off, like he expects me to simply follow him. I look at my
half-downed glass of wine and consider carefully. It’s probably not smart to
allow him to lure me into a dark corner of his mansion, but… I don’t think
he intends to kill me. Not yet, anyway, and especially not at a party like
this. Murder just puts a damper on things.
I set my wine glass aside and follow him out of the party hall and into a
small lounge area. It’s decorated like something straight out of the 1900s,
with large furniture and endless bookcases. There’s even a giant globe
sitting on the side table next to the bottles of liquor.
Silvano sits down in the large armchair, and points to the floor in front
of him. “Sit.”
I snort in amusement, and very pointedly sit down… on the coffee table.
I rest my chin on the palm of my hand and look at him. “You definitely
gotta earn it first.”
My disobedience only has Silvano smirking. “I suppose I should have
expected as much. You aren’t a good boy at all. You’re a rabid dog
chomping at your bit. I’ll need to put you in your place.”
“You can try,” I answer. I lean back and spread my legs. “But I don’t go
down easily.”
Silvano gets up to loom over me, and I admit I feel a bit of a thrill. He’s
a good-looking man, although a little too clean-cut for my tastes. I’m sure
he can wield a paddle or a whip just fine, too, but I don’t expect him to be
able to spank me as hard as Cristiano had.
Not that I particularly want Silvano to touch me at all.
 “No, I see that you don’t.” Silvano places one hand on top of my head
and tightens his fingers in my hair. “You were there, weren’t you? During
the explosion. That’s why your back is as cut up as it is.”
“Must have been,” I answer, although I’m internally bristling. Fuck,
how much of my back did he see that day?
Silvano leans down and licks a line up my jaw. “You got up again so
fast. Not at all like the delicate little bird you look like. A very pretty little
robin.”
My eyes widen, and revulsion spirals through me, but I swallow it all
down. I can’t let him see my reaction. I reach up to wrap my arms around
his shoulders. “Nothing delicate about me.”
Silvano’s hold on my hair loosens, and he lowers his mouth so it’s
inches away from mine. “I have a knife I’d love to use on you. I want to see
your skin as red as your hair, drawing beautiful patterns through it…”
If he were more my type, if this had been a month ago, if he hadn’t
called me robin, it might even have been tempting. But I nip at his lower lip
anyway. “If I struggle enough, you might even leave a permanent mark. Not
like…”
“Is this a private meeting, or may I interrupt?” Cristiano’s crisp, cold
voice sounds from just behind me.
Silvano tenses and pulls away from me. “It depends. Some boys enjoy
being torn between two masters.” He draws his knuckle along my jaw.
“Should we invite him to join, boy?”
Well, fuck. I want to tell Cristiano to get out so I can get back to
drawing information out of Silvano, but that would be too suspicious.
Besides, I kind of like the look on Cristiano’s face right now. I bite my
lower lip and pretend to think, looking Cristiano directly in the eye. “I’m
not sure. What should I say, Daddy?”
His eyes are smoldering, dark with anger and something I think that’s a
little more primal, as he stares back at me. “You know who you belong to,
little fox. Do I need to remind you?”
That tone of voice sends shivers down my spine. “You might need to.
Or else I could grow bored and go for somebody more—”
Before I can finish speaking, Cristiano has closed the distance between
us, and his fingers are in my hair. He yanks me up to my feet. “Try again,
boy.” With the lounge door still open, it’s possible that we might be seen,
but Cristiano doesn’t seem to care.
He only has eyes for me.
“Please, Daddy,” I say breathlessly, moaning when his grip on my hair
tightens. “I want you.”
“Then stop fucking around,” Cristiano says, pulling me hard against his
solid chest. His eyes go to Silvano. “Apologies,” he says, but his voice
sounds like it’s being tortured from having to utter the words, “but this one
is mine.”
Silvano sighs loudly. “Fine, fine. Fucking cockblocker. I’ll find
somebody else for the night.” He starts to leave but pauses at the door.
“Make sure to lock the door before you start anything. We wouldn’t want
the guests to get an eyeful.”
Then he leaves, shutting the door behind him.
Cristiano releases me, only to shove me hard into the armchair. “Care to
explain what the fuck that was all about, Fox?” he snarls.
Sure, I could explain all about what Silvano said that had me suspicious.
Or I could let Cristiano work his anger out on me.
“It was exactly what it looked like, Daddy,” I say, not even trying to
sound contrite. “I was trying to have a bit of fun.”
“Fun, huh?” He gives me a nasty smile. “We’ll see if you’re still having
fun when I’m finished with you.”
With that, he stalks to the door. For a second, I almost think he’s going
to leave, but instead, the lock clicks as he turns it. He turns around to face
me.
“Take your pants off, Fox. Right the fuck now.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
 CRISTIANO

I’ m seeing red .

There’s barely even anything more than an outline of Fox, because

everything is blood-red in my vision.
I have to close my eyes for a second, but the rustling of cloth tells me
Fox is obeying, and that helps me start to regain my self-control. I am not
the type to beat someone senseless for flirting with another man.
Oh, fuck it.
Apparently, I am, and I’m not sure what that says about me—but I don’t
fucking care right now.
I open my eyes again, staring at Fox. Is he trying to tell me he’s not
interested after all? That I’ve been wasting my time with him?
Maybe it’s all been some ruse, and he’s going to take my knife and
shove it straight through my heart here and now.
But I don’t think that’s it at all.
“You just wanted my attention, didn’t you?” I ask, my voice strangled
from barely suppressed anger. “Is that how you go about asking for
attention, Fox?”
Fox sits down in the armchair, bare-assed, and spreads his legs. The
shirttails partially cover his thighs, but his cock is full on display.
 “How would you prefer, Daddy?” Fox asks, a small smile spreading
across his lips. He reaches down to his uncaged cock—and I’m severely
regretting not locking him up—and gives it a long stroke.
“You could use your fucking words like an adult,” I snap. “And not
distract me in the middle of a fucking mob party. What do you think you’re
doing? Here, of all places? And with Silvano?”
That makes it worse because I’ve always seen Silvano as a friend. I
wouldn’t have thought he’d try to seduce Fox from under my nose—and he
knows perfectly well I’m invested in Fox. The night at the club should’ve
made that crystal clear.
“I wasn’t distracting you,” Fox says, voice rife with amusement. “I
distracted Silvano. You could have kept talking with your Russians and
Serbians and Pavones and Mancinis…”
“You’re supposed to be posing as my bodyguard, or did you forget
that?” I say. Even though no one believes the guise, it’s better than
admitting to the truth—whatever the truth may be.
My lover, my would-be assassin, my boy.
“Oh, that. Well…” Fox reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the
knife. He holds it up to me. “Here. I guess I don’t deserve to have it right
now.”
It’s really fucking clear what he wants me to do with the knife, though.
I want to see your skin as red as your hair, drawing beautiful patterns
through it.
The thought of Silvano marking him up like that has me seething again.
I take the knife, and for a moment, I contemplate doing exactly that—
marking him up like he so clearly wants to be marked up. But this isn’t the
place to spill blood. If I’m going to carve into his skin, I’m going to do it
slowly, carefully, where I can make sure every tiny cut scars.
“No, you don’t,” I say, trying to regain some semblance of self-control.
“You don’t deserve anything from me right now. Give me one good reason
not to just leave you in here the rest of the night.”
Fox looks down at his naked cock. “That isn’t enough?” He laughs at
my glower and holds up his hand. “Okay, okay. How about… if I don’t get
any from you, who knows whose cock I’ll end up tripping and falling onto.”
I grit my teeth hard, trying to calm my breathing. I feel like a fucking
rodeo bull, and even though I know he’s provoking me on purpose, I can’t
seem to let it roll off my back. It would serve him right if I locked him in
this room the rest of the night, but I can’t guarantee no one else would find
their way in.
There’s no guarantee Silvano wouldn’t find his way in.
“Do you want me to be your Daddy, Fox?” I demand.
“Yes,” Fox answers immediately. “I… I do.” His voice trembles, and I
wonder if that’s him being manipulative again.
His eyes have softened though, and I’m reminded of how he looked
when I’d praised him.
“You’re not going to be able to sit down for a week when I’m done with
you,” I say grimly. “Apologize to me.”
Fox meets my gaze, hesitating. What is going through that mind of his?
I don’t know what I’ll do if he tries to provoke me again, though, because I
know how counterproductive it would be to give him what he wants.
“I’m sorry,” Fox says in a quiet voice. “I didn’t want him, anyway.”
I take a deep breath, staring at him as I let it out in a slow exhalation.
“He’s my friend,” I say. Or I thought he was, which is part of the reason this
is getting to me so much. “I know that doesn’t mean much in this line of
business, but I’m prepared to pledge my loyalty to him when his father
steps down. For fuck’s sake, Fox! Of all the people you could’ve picked!”
Fox averts his gaze and shrugs. “He approached me first. I was right
that he’s gay. It seemed like a good way to get more information out of
him.”
 “Then why the fuck did you go out of the way to provoke me about it?”
I ask. “I—” I hold up a hand, shaking my head. “Never mind. Jesus, Fox. I
thought…” I almost laugh. I thought what? That this would be a real thing?
He pulls his legs together and looks at me again, smiling just a little. “I
thought you were really fucking hot, getting all angry and possessive.”
I groan, rubbing my hand across my face. “Of course you did,” I mutter.
“Well.” I stare at him. “I don’t tolerate that kind of bullshit. If you want my
attention, you fucking ask for it from now on. Do you understand me, boy?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Fox grins widely. “May I have some attention please,
Daddy?”
“Brat,” I say, but I can’t help but smile back. “Well. Since I have you all
alone, and I’m sure you can manage not to scream… I guess we should get
your punishment out of the way, shouldn’t we?”
“Daddy, we can’t! At a party?” Fox gets up despite his mock-horrified
words, unashamed of his bare cock, and leans over the side of the armchair.
“But I can definitely try very, very hard not to make any noise.”
“You should’ve thought about where we were when you decided to
provoke me like that,” I say. I slowly unfasten my belt, pulling it through
the loops and folding it in half. That’s all the warning I give him before I
lash out with it, leaving a red stripe across his ass cheeks from the force of
the blow.
Fox gasps softly in surprise, but his eyes flutter shut, and he juts his ass
out farther. I stroke the new welt, pushing against it just to hear Fox moan.
“Is that you being quiet?” I ask, pressing harder.
Fox inhales sharply. “Sorry, Daddy. It just feels so good.”
“Then I must not be doing it right,” I say. “This is supposed to be a
punishment, not a fucking reward.” The next time I hit him with the belt is
in a different spot, and it’s much lighter.
Fox makes a disappointed noise. “Daddy… I can take more than that.”
 “Punishment,” I remind him. “I should just fuck you and leave you
wanting. I’m being generous giving you my belt, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” Fox answers dourly. “Thank you, Daddy. Please don’t leave me
hanging.”
I huff, wishing I could let this go—wishing I could just leave him here
like that, because I know that would be the real punishment for someone
like Fox.
There’s a sour taste in the back of my mouth, though, as I think of just
how close Silvano’s lips had come to Fox’s. The thought of the two of them
fucking brings my rage back to the surface again, and I don’t hold back the
next time I strike Fox with the belt.
He doesn’t cry out this time, but he gasps. His head sinks lower while
his ass comes up. Three stripes already, and I wonder how many he could
take.
I don’t think he’d ever tell me to stop. I could keep going for as long as
I wanted, and all he’d do is thank me with a stupid smile and cry when I
hold him.
It’s all on me, on my fragile grasp on self-control, and that feels
dangerous because I just want to keep laying into him.
So I do.
One strike for nearly kissing Silvano—for kissing him, maybe, because
I don’t know what happened before I arrived—and another, then again for
good measure, because I feel like it.
He’s whimpering and shuddering beneath me, and I can’t help but think
that Luke would lose his fucking mind if he saw something like this.
Good thing no one’s here to stop us.
I strike again, and I almost laugh when I see that he spreads his legs,
giving me easy access to his hole and balls. I can’t think of any other person
who wants a leather belt snapped at their genitals, but here Fox is,
demanding just that.
 I take a brief break to stare at him, to gaze at how open he is for me and
to try to calm myself down, but I still want to take my belt to every single
part of him I can reach.
“You want more? Are you my good boy? You deserve more?” I ask
raggedly, clutching the belt more tightly. I want to see how he reacts to that
when he’s in the depths of pain, when he’s vulnerable and open to me. My
cock is hardening in my pants as I watch him, as I listen to his cries, and I
wonder if I’m just fucked up.
I can’t find it in me to care.
Fox clutches the armchair and shakes his head. “Want more. Please,
Daddy. Even if…” He rubs his eyes with one hand. “Don’t make me cry.
Please.”
Instead of responding aloud, I slap the belt lightly against his balls, then
his hole, in rapid succession.
He groans and lowers his hand again. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“You want it harder, don’t you, Fox?” I ask. “Or do you want me to fuck
you senseless while I spank your ass?” I can’t decide what I want more—to
sink my cock into his waiting ass while my palm hits warm skin over and
over or to continue with the belt.
“More,” is all Fox says, wiggling his ass. “Just want you, Daddy.”
“Turn around,” I tell him. “So you can take your real punishment before
I fuck you.”
He shudders and, after a few breaths he slowly turns around. His legs
tremble as he does, and I resist the urge to throw him onto the armchair and
just fuck him senseless.
Once he’s turned, his cock fully facing me, Fox gives me the most
blissed out look. “Daddy?”
I grin at him, though I know it’s far from a pleasant look. I don’t give
him enough time to realize what’s about to happen before the belt is striking
him right in his erection.
 Fox snaps his head back and cries out, a clear, beautiful sound. This is
his pure reaction. This is him without all his manipulations, his attempts to
hide from me.
And despite the pain, his cock remains hard and leaking.
I groan and drop the belt, grabbing him and turning him as fast as I can
move. I force him down over the armchair and fumble with my trouser
button and zipper. I curse when my pants and boxers don’t go down as
easily as I want them to, but as soon as I’m bare, I spit in my hand and coat
my cock with it.
“I don’t care if you’re ready or not,” I say hoarsely. “You’re going to
take me, aren’t you? My good Fox.”
“Yes. Please, Daddy, please, please…” Fox starts rubbing his cock
against the side of the armchair.
“You’re making a mess, aren’t you?” I ask him, slapping one reddened
ass cheek with my hand. “I’m going to make you clean it up with your
tongue. Every last drop. I don’t care how much pain you’re in. You’re going
to be a good boy and clean up after yourself.”
“Yes,” Fox agrees.
Since he doesn’t react to being called a good boy, I think he’d agree to
anything I said right now. That’s dangerous knowledge, because right now I
want to do everything to him.
I fuck into him as hard as I can, each thrust pushing the armchair a few
centimeters forward. Between the rage and the euphoria, I don’t know how
long I can hold back.
“Please, please, Daddy…” Fox moans and meets my thrusts, squeezing
his ass and driving me wild.
I grab his hair and pull his head back, forcing him up enough so I can
bite the exposed part of his neck. It only makes him moan louder, and I slap
his other ass cheek even harder. “Keep quiet,” I hiss. “We’re at a party,
remember?”
 Fox nods quickly and bites his lip, as if needing to physically suppress
his noises.
“Don’t bite your lip too hard, or you’ll be licking up blood, too,” I taunt
him, though I know he probably wouldn’t mind that at all. “Such a messy
boy, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy. Please, Daddy,” Fox repeats. I don’t think there’s much
conscious thought running through his head right now, and that has my own
cock pulsing harder, knowing that I’m the one that brought him to this state.
I shove into him with more and more force, gasping as sweat trickles
down my forehead. I’m going to be a mess after this, but I can’t fucking
help myself. I’ve lost control, and I can’t even care.
Not until I’m on the verge of coming, and my climax hits me with so
much force that I’m the one making the desperate, wild noises now.
We didn’t use condoms, again. Fuck. But I don’t care. I keep going as
long as I can, before finally reaching down to squeeze Fox’s cock.
That’s all it takes. He shudders and spills all over my hand. I hold him
while he comes off the orgasm, his cock slowly softening in my hand. My
own cock slips out of him, and I pull back enough to watch the cum trickle
down his thighs.
Mine.
Fox breathes heavily. After a few moments, he says, “I can’t move. You
broke me.”
I can’t help but laugh because I feel that way too. Deliciously, perfectly
broken, in so many pieces I’m not sure I’ll ever be whole again without
him.
Fuck, I don’t want to be without him.
“Stay with me,” I say. “I’m not letting you go back. Fuck Corbin, fuck
his rules, and fuck his attempts to kill me. I’m not letting you go.”
It isn’t just a matter of life and death, not anymore. I really can’t stand
the thought of Fox returning to someone who used to hurt him, who used
him.
Fox tries to stand, only to stumble into my arms. He rests his head
against my shoulder. “I want to stay. I do.”
I growl, low in my throat. I can hear it in his voice, the fact that he
hasn’t yet decided on what he wants to do. This should be easy. He should
be every bit as obsessed with me as I am with him… but I understand. Work
comes first; in our line of business, it’s not about how we feel, but about
what we have to do to save ourselves. “Clean up your mess, then.”
Fox laughs and nods. “Sure. But I think I’ll use tissues.”
“I don’t think so,” I tell him, arching a brow as I slowly pull away from
him. “I told you this was punishment, after all.”
Fox groans, but his face turns beautifully red, too.
Fuck. I’m not going to let him go—not now, not ever.
I’m going to keep him, whatever it takes.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
 CRISTIANO

I stop short when I exit the lounge and stare at the man leaning against the
opposite wall. Giulio fucking Pavone. He’s eating appetizers from a small
plate, and he casually meets my eyes.
“Yo, Cristiano. How’s it going?” he asks. He peers past me. “And who’s
your friend? I would definitely remember his name if I’d met him before.”
My heart drops into my stomach.
Cresci isn’t particularly homophobic, but I know better than to flaunt
even my bisexuality in front of him. I mostly fuck women partially because
of him, and partially…
No.
I have enough to worry about right now without bringing up the past.
Giulio is right here, and Fox and I are both mussed and rumpled, sweaty
and in disarray—and we can only have been fucking or fighting.
“Good evening, Giulio,” I say politely, pretending I’m not winded in the
slightest. “This is Fox.”
Fox stands taller, but a lot of the languidness from earlier is gone. He’s
on alert, ready to cause even more trouble.
Giulio pops an appetizer into his mouth and watches us as he chews.
The knowing look in his eyes and the small smirk let me know he’s not
going to politely pretend not to have noticed. “Hi, Fox,” Giulio greets.
“Sounded like you two were having a lot of fun in there. Nobody ever
invites me to the party games anymore.”
“That’s because you’re a married man,” I tell him, my voice steely.
“And you have people to beat others down for you.”
Giulio’s eyes widen, and he chuckles. “Shit, does being married exclude
you from the sex games? Somebody needs to tell… well, every single
married man here. I don’t think they got the memo. Most of the clients at
my clubs need to hear it too.”
“I’ll hire a skywriter,” I say. “Perhaps pay for a billboard to make sure
the message really gets out there.”
“Yeah. Hey, maybe I should tell Damien about this though. He can give
you my deets so you include me on your after-hours spanking-and-crying
mailing list. Think Cresci and Mancini want to be on that list too?” Giulio
laughs to himself and shakes his head. “I know Silvano would. You should
have seen how bored he was the one time I invited him to one of my strip
clubs.”
“What do you want, Pavone?” I ask. If I let him, he’ll try to amuse
himself at my expense for hours. It’s better to just find out what he wants
for his silence and give it to him than it is to try to get through all of this
bullshit. I do need to take care of what Cresci asked me to do, even if I’d
gotten… distracted.
Giulio pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts swiping something.
“Send me the deets on your Russian friends. Ilya looks like the kind of guy
with my kind of tastes.”
A few seconds later, my phone vibrates. I sigh and pull it out to check.
As expected, it’s a message from Giulio.
I have some products he would absolutely love.
He included a kissing emoji at the end of it.
I don’t have to be a genius to know he’s talking about selling women.
It’s not information I particularly want to pass along. I’ve never been
interested in the sex trade before, even though I know many of my allies
are. It’s just another facet of doing business with them.
“Got it,” I say, trying not to clench my teeth. I forward the contact
information, and Giulio smiles when his phone buzzes in response.
“Great!” Giulio pockets his phone again. “Nobody shall ever know
about the fun they were missing out on. I really think you should be willing
to share with the entire class if you’re doing something like this, but Fox
doesn’t look like he could handle the entire class.”
Fox grumbles, but I hold my hand up to silence him before he can say
anything that will provoke Giulio further.
Giulio pushes away from the wall and hands his empty plate to me, then
claps my shoulder. “All right, I’m sure Damien is worried that I’ve lit
something on fire. Tell Cresci his caterer sucks. These shrimp taste like they
got defrosted right before serving.”
He walks away from us casually, as if he hadn’t just blackmailed me.
As if I hadn’t just bribed him.
It sounds better that way, at least, as long as I don’t think about what
sort of mayhem I’ve probably created by introducing Ilya to Giulio.
“Giulio Pavone isn’t what I expected,” Fox says, staring at Giulio’s
retreating form. “And was he trying to hit on us? I really couldn’t tell.”
I grimace. “I don’t know. I could probably tell you more rumors that I
haven’t heard about him. But he’s dangerous. Someone fucked with his wife
and kid, and next thing we know, the entire Romano clan is wiped out.” I
shake my head. “I’m not fucking with him.”
“Is he going to keep his promise?” Fox takes a small step away from
me. “It doesn’t matter to me, but…”
“Ilya’s got my back,” I say, irritated about the whole situation and the
potential liability. Now that Silvano’s gotten involved with the Russians,
everything seems to be more chaotic. “If Pavone decides to buy his own
billboard, I should be able to make it difficult for him to keep doing work
with them.” I look down at the plate I’m holding and shake my head. “He’s
got some balls.”
“You’ve got some balls,” Fox says, snickering to himself. “Nice, big
ones. I’d love to suck on them, roll them around in my mouth, get really,
really well acquainted with them.”
I glower at him, but I can’t deny that if I hadn’t just gotten off, I’d be
interested in his offer. “You’re insatiable. Come on. Let’s get back to the
party.”
We stop by the restroom to freshen up a bit—Fox no longer looks like
he’d gotten fucked into next week, and I’ve tamped down my glower a little
—and head back out to the main hall. I spot Giulio talking with Silvano,
and from Silvano’s forced smile, he’s wishing Giulio were somewhere else.
At least it doesn’t seem like Giulio’s saying anything that’s pissing him
off.
“Okay. Who even knew about your deal?” Fox whispers to me,
surveying the room. “You already took care of Dan, but I guess your other
friend, Peter, might be around. And there’s any rivals you might have
outside the org—”
His words are cut off by some Cresci soldiers coming in, guns out.
“Everybody, into the room! We’re locking this place down!” one of
them shouts gruffly. Another one rushes over to Silvano and whispers
something into his ear.
Fox reaches into his coat, but I grab his wrist to stop him.
“What’s going on?” I ask Perez, the nearest guard. “What happened?”
“Fuck, Fiore. We just found…” Perez cuts himself off and looks in
Silvano’s direction. “Uh, talk to Silvano.”
“What the fuck?” Silvano suddenly shouts. Before I can step in his
direction, he runs out of the room.
More guards come in, aiming their guns at us.
 “Perez, come on. Whatever happened, I want to help,” I tell him. Fox is
tense at my side, looking around the room nervously.
Perez scratches his beard, and after a few seconds, leans in and
whispers, “Stevens went to check on the boss. He’s dead in his office.
Apparently somebody stabbed him.”
My heart skips a beat. The boss. Cresci. He’s been there as long as I
remember, and he was just about to retire. The timing of it couldn’t be more
fucked up…
Something nags me in the back of my mind, but I can’t figure out what
it is.
“Fuck. I’ll go help Silvano,” I say to Perez. “Fox, you stay here.”
Fox grimaces at me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We should stick
together.”
“I need you to keep eyes on what’s going on in here. I can’t be in two
places at once. Stay here,” I repeat before heading off in the direction I saw
Silvano leave in.
The halls are bustling with more guards, but they let me pass. I’m
Cresci’s consigliere. I need to know what’s going on.
I find Silvano in his father’s office, slumped on the floor. He’s staring at
the pool of blood at the foot of the desk.
Don Cresci is laying half on the desk, eyes wide open and lips parted,
like he’d tried to scream. His throat has been slit, and he must have bled
out.
I go over to Cresci and touch his forehead. Still warm. He couldn’t have
been dead long.
“Silvano.” I turn and squat down in front of him. He’s staring blankly
ahead. He must be in shock.
Fuck.
I grab his shoulder, lightly shaking him. “Silvano. Silvano, you need to
get up. It’s all chaos out there. We need you to go in and get everyone
sorted out. All right?”
“I…” Silvano looks up at me. “He was supposed to retire. He didn’t
want to go out like this. He wanted to live on a beach side property.”
“I know,” I say, letting go of his shoulder. “I know that’s what he
wanted, and it’s what he deserved. We’ll find the fucker who did this and
make them pay. But first, you have to step up like you know he wanted you
to.”
I don’t tell Silvano his father had been having doubts about him. He
doesn’t need to know that, especially right now.
“Right. Right.” Silvano takes a deep breath before standing. He pales
when he looks at his father’s bloodied, gruesome corpse, but turns around to
look at the guard hovering by the door. “Have Johanson send me the
security footage for tonight. And… the guests are secured?” He doesn’t
wait for a response, just starts walking back toward the event hall.
“Fuck,” the guard says, looking back at Cresci. “Jesus fuck. Who the
fuck… I swear, none of us were slacking.”
I look at him. He looks shaken, as he probably should. The axe is going
to fall on one of the guards, most likely, for failing to protect Cresci against
an intruder he had to have known—or someone who had been vouched for.
Seems like that’s been particularly problematic, lately.
“Better start doing a play by play of the evening in your head to figure
out where you were when it happened,” I say grimly, only to realize I’m
going to have a hard time explaining where I was for the past hour. Fuck.
Silvano knows I was in one of the back rooms with Fox, but it’s not like I
can stand in front of a mafia gathering and tell them I was busy fucking my
bodyguard, who had also tried—and failed—to assassinate me.
Great.
I head for the door. “Come on.”
I hear shouting as I approach the event hall. Not surprising, with a
bunch of very dominant men suddenly being told what to do. The guards
have their hands full trying to prevent a riot.
I whistle sharply to draw attention to myself. “Listen up, you fucks,” I
say, more anger than I expected coming through. Shit. I can’t let my
feelings get the better of me now. “Nobody is leaving until we account for
everybody’s whereabouts. One of you fuckers is a murderer—”
“Aren’t all of us fuckers murderers?” Giulio Pavone interrupts,
laughing. “I mean…”
I stare at him. It’s one thing to know he’s an irreverent asshole. It’s
another entirely for him to break out laughing in the middle of something
like this. “Don Cresci is dead,” I say flatly for the benefit of the entire
room.
“Yes,” Silvano says, stepping into the room behind me. He has a tablet
in his hands now, and his expression is colder than I’ve ever seen before. “I
will not allow my father’s killer to escape unpunished.”
At least Giulio doesn’t make another fucking stupid remark, although I
notice that his consigliere is gripping his arm now.
Fox sidles up to me then. “You’re about to have problems,” he whispers.
“The guards have been asking around. Several people noticed our absence.”
Yeah. I’d been afraid of that.
“Silvano knows where we were,” I murmur. But again comes the
problem of how to explain why we were gone for so long, and I still don’t
have a good answer for that question. “But I had to step away and answer a
call, and you came with me, as any bodyguard would.”
Fox grimaces but nods. “As long as Pavone doesn’t contradict you.”
“Yeah,” I say, but my voice is hollow.
I’m not entirely sure Pavone will keep his fucking mouth shut. Then
again, it might be better if he doesn’t. He was sitting outside the door where
Fox and I had been… busy. At the very least, I know four people in this
building are probably innocent: myself, Fox, Silvano… and Pavone.
How ironic.
 Enzo and Silvano are peering at the tablet Silvano brought, occasionally
whispering to each other. I feel useless simply standing here, so I start
observing the room, trying to see if anyone is being shadier than usual.
In a room full of fucking mobsters.
“Did anyone stand out to you?” I ask Fox.
He bites his lip thoughtfully. “The blonde woman with the pixie cut.
She’s not as vapid as she appears, I think. But I can’t figure out who she
came with, and fuck me if I know where she’d hide a weapon in that dress.”
I nod. “I’ll make sure Silvano knows. Come.” I start walking toward
Silvano.
Peter has joined Silvano now, and his brow is furrowed strangely.
“Right there,” he points out. “And then…” He scowls at me as I approach.
“Fiore.”
I arch my own brow, and I stare him down. He seems so much different
tonight than he’d been the last time we’d spoken. I’ve never liked the way
he simpers around Silvano, but I’ve never really thought much about him.
“Peter,” I say by way of greeting.
“Where were you all night?” Peter snaps. “You disappeared for like an
hour, at around the same time as the Boss was getting murdered.”
“I had an important matter to discuss with my bodyguard,” I say calmly,
almost wishing I could just say that I’d been fucking said “bodyguard”
senseless after he’d pissed me off enough to make me see red. “Fox and I
were in the parlor the entire time. Silvano saw us go in there.”
Silvano’s eyes narrow. “I saw you for a few minutes, then I left.
Because you didn’t want me there.”
“You know why I didn’t want you there,” I tell him in a low tone, not
willing to announce it to the entire room but unable to think of anything
else to say. “It had nothing to do with— For fuck’s sake, why would you
even think I’d kill your father? He might as well have been my father, with
how well he took care of me.”
 “We all know you’ve been angling for his position,” Peter interjects.
“And now you bring this stranger along, who you claim is your bodyguard
but is smaller than you?”
There’s a murmur from the other gathered people. At least some of them
are my allies… but “ally” is a tenuous word in this profession. I think most
of them will sit back and wait to see how things shake out before they step
in one way or another.
“He and the redhead came back only moments before you all locked us
in here,” one of the men says suddenly. I glare at him, and I realize I don’t
recognize the guy at all. He isn’t a major player. There are too many
unknowns here tonight.
Fox curses under his breath. “I can show off my bruised ass if you think
that’ll convince them of what we were doing,” he whispers to me. “But they
might shoot anyway.”
I briefly glare at him. He isn’t showing anyone his ass except me,
especially with Silvano right here. “No,” I tell him. “We’ve done nothing
wrong. Cresci is… was…” I look at Silvano. Has he told them his father
was about to retire?
Silvano’s steely gaze meets mine. “Do you have an explanation as to
your whereabouts?” I stay silent, and Silvano turns to the other gathered
people. “Did anyone see Cristiano and his bodyguard in the past hour?”
I notice Giulio Pavone whispering something to his consigliere. When
Giulio notices me watching, he smiles and waves at me.
Silvano catches that interaction and turns to Giulio. “You have
something to add, Pavone?”
Giulio shrugs casually. “Nope. I have no clue what Cristiano and his
friend were doing. I think I would have noticed the redhead.”
Well, he said he’d keep his mouth shut, but for once, it would’ve been
nice for someone to not keep their word. Of all the fucking times for
someone not to blab my business all over…
 “You know I didn’t kill your father, Silvano,” I tell him, forcing his
attention back onto me. “You’re wasting time accusing me and Fox, while
his real murderer potentially finds a way out of this house.”
Silvano sneers at me. “I don’t know anything. Perez, search Cristiano
and his… bodyguard. Whom we don’t know anything about, except
suddenly Cristiano is bringing him everywhere.”
“Because someone tried to fucking murder me,” I snap. “Of course I’m
bringing someone to watch my back. Just because it’s not someone with all
muscle and no brains doesn’t mean he’s incapable of doing his job.”
Perez ignores me and stalks over to me and Fox. Fox tenses up, and I
realize we’ve got a problem without him saying a word.
Because Fox is armed. And not just with a gun. He has my knife on him
too—a knife like the one that was used to murder Cresci.
Fuck.
For the first time in a long time, I realize I have no idea what to do. I
have only seconds before they discover the weapons, seconds before they
close in on us. This is an offense worthy of torture and worse, and—
I want to tell them that Fox and I were fucking—maybe even show
them his ass, like Fox had said. But they’ll just claim they have no proof
that happened during the time I said it did, and Pavone is annoyingly going
to keep his mouth shut even if I wouldn’t want him to. Beyond that…
I’m in a room full of homophobic fucking mobsters, and someone might
pull a weapon on me just for admitting I’d been sodomizing my supposed
bodyguard. I’d definitely alienate my allies. I have to think that I’ll get
through this in one piece, and I can’t destroy my present and my future by
announcing to everyone that I have a boytoy. Let them suspect, but I can’t
confirm it.
“Silvano,” I say again, but it’s no use. Perez has already started to
search Fox, and I start to look for ways out of this fucking room.
 “Sorry,” Fox mumbles, and in the next instance, Perez cries out and
stumbles back. There’s a very long red gash along his neck.
Before anyone has time to react, Fox dashes toward the entrance to the
room. He has his gun out, and even though the two guards there raise their
arms to aim at him, he’s managed to shoot both of them before they can pull
their own triggers.
Way to make us look innocent, I think, but as the entire room erupts in
chaos, I use the opportunity to flee. I hate it. I hate running away, but until I
can figure out who murdered Don Cresci—the same person who probably
tried to have both Fox and me murdered—I can’t show my face around
these people. I have to solve this mystery once and for all before I can
return to my life as I know it.
I catch up with Fox, somehow, and I follow him through the front door.
There’s a trail of injured, potentially dead, people in his wake. “What the
fuck?” I hiss, but I can’t be angry. He probably just saved our lives, but at
what cost?
“They were going to kill me either way,” Fox growls, ducking behind
the closest car. “That Peter guy wasn’t going to have it any other way. And
Silvano… fuck, I should have realized. He called me robin.”
That’s significant. I can tell that much, even though I don’t know why. I
can hazard a guess, though. “Only one person has ever called you that?” I
pull my keys out of my pocket. We’re being pursued, but I head straight for
my car.
The bullets are flying, but it’s dark and there are enough cars to block
most of them. As long as we lay low…
“They’re heading to the west exit,” Pavone shouts.
Except we aren’t.
More bullets pop off, this time farther away.
Goddammit. Now I’m going to owe him a favor, a really big one.
 We finally manage to reach my car, and I don’t wait for either of us to
be buckled properly before hitting the gas and driving out of there. The
front gate is closed—but with how often I go in and out, I have a remote
opener for that.
The gate opens, and as soon as my car will fit through, we’re off.
Fuck.
“Where the fuck are we going now?” I ask, grateful that it’s late enough
for traffic to be light.
“Head toward the highway,” Fox says quietly. He’s staring out the
window, so I can’t see his face. “Exit 84. I’ll give you directions from
there.”
I cast a sharp look at him, but he doesn’t look back at me. My life is in
his hands right now, and I have no choice but to trust him. I get on the
highway, my mind racing. “Where are we going?” I finally ask. “Safe
house?”
“Yeah. Or something.” Fox sighs and sits back, grabbing a tissue from
the center console and using it to wipe the blade. “Too bad. I was having
fun.”
I bark out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. Right up until the boss got murdered.”
I’d been having fun, too, and it feels horribly unfair that life would deliver
Fox to me only to punish me like this. Maybe it’s the universe’s way of
telling me I shouldn’t have lost my temper with him. I don’t know. “Did
you, though?” I ask, my voice muted. “I pretty much beat you because I lost
my temper.”
“Huh?” Fox looks at me, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“The belting,” I say. “I shouldn’t have done it when I was angry.” I
pause, then add, “I shouldn’t have done it at all, really. You’re allowed to
talk to other men.”
Just not Silvano.
Just not anyone who’s flirting with him.
 Just not…
Anyone. Damn it.
“Okay. Whatever.” Fox goes back to looking out the window. “Way to
spoil the entire evening, then.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask him, and it’s my turn to be
confused.
“I just thought you were being serious when you said you wanted me. I
should have known better.” Fox reclines his seat back and closes his eyes.
“Keep driving, Daddy.”
“I was being serious,” I say before he can say anything else. We pass
signs for exit 81. Almost there. “Christ, Fox, I was seeing red over you even
talking to another man. You think that’s normal? Healthy? I’m not some
abusive prick who has to have total dominion over you.” Except maybe I
am.
“Yep, I heard you the first time.” He doesn’t open his eyes. “It’s fine. I
don’t want some half-hearted, weak, soft Daddy anyway.”
“Excuse me?” I demand, bristling. “I’m not weak, or half-hearted, or
any of those things, and you fucking know it. Do you want to get a rise out
of me, Fox? Is that it? Do you want to hear me say that I want to pull over
on the side of the road and fucking beat you senseless for calling me those
things? Because I do want to, and it’s wrong.”
Isn’t it?
“And after you do, you’ll moan and cry about how you didn’t actually
mean it, and it was so terrible that you got off with me, and I should be on
my way.” Fox makes a disgusted noise. “Maybe you should pull over and
I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
“Fuck you,” I say, my voice rising in heat and volume. “I’m not letting
you go anywhere. Do you hear me? You’re mine. I’m just saying I should
treat you better. Why is that so fucking wrong?”
 “If you want a boy who wants you to treat him nice, then you definitely
should fucking let me out now.” Fox sits up again and looks out the
window. “How fast are you driving right now?”
“Fast enough to where you’d fucking die if you tried to jump out of the
speeding car, so don’t even fucking think about it because I’m not done
with you,” I snap. I don’t know what to make of his words. Does he want
me to be some ruthless bastard who just uses him and fucks him and beats
the shit out of him for doing the wrong thing—what I believe is the wrong
thing?
“I’m thinking about it, because your words are more fucking tedious
than getting accused of murder were,” Fox snaps back. “Can you make up
your fucking mind about what the fuck you want? Because you’re a fucking
dick for making me cry one second and then deciding you’re too fucking
good for me the next.”
“Too good for you?” I demand, even more heatedly. “When did I ever
fucking say I was too good for you?”
Exit 81.
I swerve onto the off ramp, but I’m so agitated, I’m barely paying
attention to the fact that I have no idea where I’m going.
“‘I shouldn’t have done it! I was so wrooong to belt you! I don’t care if
you go fuck an entire football team!’” Fox mimics dramatically. “In which
case, I fucking will. So let me out. I’ll ask the local suburban moms where
all the football players hang out.”
“Give me fucking directions,” I growl at him. “We’ll settle this when we
get where we’re going, and if you think you can’t sit comfortably now, just
fucking wait until I’m finished with you, boy.”
Because he is my boy.
Mine.
And the idea of him taking anyone else—especially an entire football
team—has me just as pissed as I’d been when he’d nearly kissed Silvano.
 Unfortunately, I come up to a red light, and I’m forced to stop the car. I
grab Fox’s arm before he can attempt to leave.
“You realize where I’m taking you, right?” Fox asks, a lot more
defeated than before. “It’s better if you just let me go.”
I don’t move, even though a car stops behind me and honks. I start to
piece together what he’s said—and what he hasn’t said. Fuck. I’m so
agitated and upset and fucked in the head that I couldn’t even see a trap
coming miles away.
“Give me directions,” I repeat. “We’re getting this taken care of one
way or another. I’m not going down without a fight, if that’s what you think
is going to happen.”
“Okay, Daddy.” Fox calmly starts directing me, and I don’t know what
to make of his quiet mood.
We end up parked in front of a very normal-looking suburban house.
There’s no car parked out front, but there is a closed garage. I don’t see any
lights on—not that that means much either.
“Corbin is here?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Fox stares up at the house. “He’s probably in the basement.
Waiting for me.”
I take a deep breath, following his gaze and just looking at the house. It
seems so innocuous. It isn’t. It’s a place where I could potentially die, and
I’m a fucking idiot for even thinking about walking through the doors. “I
want you,” I say, and my voice is so ragged that I barely even recognize it.
“Just the way you are. You may not understand that yet, but I do. I want
you. I want to make you cry, make you laugh, make you scream… All of
those things. I just don’t know how to respond to that. I’m a grown fucking
man, for fuck’s sake, but I feel like a teenager.”
“Then why did you say…” Fox rubs his eyes with the palm of his hand.
“Why do you keep pretending what we’re doing is wrong? We’re both
having fun. I’ve never… I’ve never gotten off so hard with anyone. I’ve
never felt so…” He trails off, and when he looks up at me, his eyes are
clear. “Corbin knows what’s going on. I’m sure of it now. But if you’re not
serious about me, I will fucking tell him to kill you.”
I blink at him, and I can’t help but bark out a laugh. “You’re
blackmailing me now?”
“No,” Fox answers, but his lips twitch slightly. “I’m just telling you. I
can’t deal with… all of this, if it’s fake. I want to believe you, Daddy. I do.
But if you’re lying to me, I’d rather you be dead.”
“It’s not fake,” I say. “None of this is fake. I’m just…” I sigh. I’m not
going to admit to being afraid, because then that really would make me look
weak. “This is very new for me. Fox, I haven’t been in a relationship since I
was… your age, maybe?” It feels like the most awkward time for this
conversation, but at the same time… It needs to be said. “I was in love. I
thought everything was perfect. But then my father found out about him.” I
shake my head. “Everything since then has been surface-level. But you’ve
gotten beneath my skin, and I have no fucking idea what I’m doing.”
“I’ve never done this either,” Fox says quietly. “I can’t. Corbin wouldn’t
allow me to have distractions. Fucking is fine. Get it out of your system,
he’d say. But nobody in our line of work is allowed to have families.” Fox’s
voice cracks. “I don’t deserve a family.”
I reach out and touch his hand, very gently, because I half expect him to
pull away from me. “You absolutely do deserve a family. Even those of us
in this line of work… We deserve to have this.”
I want to keep talking about him, now that he’s finally opening up to me
and I’m opening up to him, but we’re sitting ducks. I sigh, pulling the gun
out from under my seat. I flash Fox a lopsided smile. “You were right about
the gun under my seat.” My expression turns more serious, though; I can
feel it. “I will use it on the fucker who made you believe you’re worthless
and didn’t deserve a family.”
 Fox smiles back sadly. “Okay. But I should probably try to get some
information out of him first, or we still won’t know who hired me and
who’s been trying to kill you.”
As much as I hate it, I nod. It would be pointless to take out one threat
and leave others still out there.
But make no mistake. I’m going to murder Corbin for hurting my little
Fox.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
 FOX

I step into the basement , and I’m not surprised that Corbin is simply
watching a late-night TV show. It’s what he does every evening when he
doesn’t have work to take care of. We used to watch the shows together, and
he’d explain the jokes I didn’t understand.
He had no qualms explaining the many sex jokes to me, even when I
was just a kid.
I go to join him on the couch, and I wonder if I can actually kill him.
The only person who has constantly been in my life. The one who
raised me and cared for me and trained me. Who made me strong.
Who made me weak.
“I went to a party,” I say during a commercial break.
Corbin snorts. “Did it include killing the target?”
“Yeah,” I lie easily. “I sliced his throat and left him slumped over a
desk. He never even saw it coming.”
He only makes a noncommittal sound. No praise telling me I did good,
no words of encouragement or satisfaction.
“Somebody there said something strange though,” I continue. “He
called me robin.”
“On account of your red hair?” Corbin suggests. “Guess I’m not the
most creative guy out there.”
 He finally turns to look at me properly, and I can tell he’s not buying my
stories. “Why are you here, Robin? I half expected you to run away this
time.”
“I…” Fuck. I’m a fucking assassin. I’ve killed so many people. I just
escaped an entire room full of armed mobsters, yet this one man terrifies me
so much more than anything else.
“How did he know? Did Silvano Cresci hire me to kill Cristiano Fiore?”
I keep my voice as steady as I can.
“Does it matter?” Corbin’s show comes back on, but he hits the mute
button. “You do your job. Don’t think about why. I’ve told you twenty
million times to not ask questions.”
“But I almost got killed this time,” I argue. “That fucking warehouse
was rigged. And if Silvano Cresci knew I was going to be there—”
“Silvano Cresci is none of your business,” Corbin snaps at me. He gets
up and grabs my arm to shake me violently. “You want me to hurt you? Is
that why you’re here? Then take off your shirt and line up against the wall.”
Fuck. I reach for my shirt almost instinctively—but it’s not my shirt. It’s
Briar’s shirt, and Briar’s jacket. My ass is still tingling from the belting
Cristiano gave me.
I lower my hands and shake my head. “No. I came for answers. I’m
tired of fumbling around in the dark.”
My refusal pisses Corbin off, and he snarls at me. “Get up against the
wall, Robin.”
That doesn’t even feel like my name anymore.
It isn’t my name. It’s just what Corbin decided to call me when he took
me in. I don’t remember what my parents had called me. I barely remember
anything before that day when I met Corbin.
I’m not Robin. I don’t have to be Robin.
I get up, but I shake my head. “No. Tell me the fucking truth, Corbin.
Who the fuck tried to get me and Fiore killed? Why are you so fucking
insistent about this—”
The punch isn’t a surprise. I know Corbin, and I know what sets him
off. I know his limits. I know what I can say to make him really mad, to the
point where he breaks out the belt or the cane or the whip and hurts me so
badly that I can’t move for days.
I hate it—but sometimes I want it, too, because it makes me forget
about all the fucking feelings whirling around inside me.
I stumble back only a few feet and clutch my jaw, breathing through the
pain. Then I stand up straighter again and look him in the eyes. “Who
ordered the hit, Corbin?”
“None of your fucking business,” Corbin answers. He’s unbuckling his
belt now. “You’re really trying my patience, Robin.”
A gunshot rings out.
Corbin cries out in pain. I look down and see that a perfectly timed shot
had gotten his knee, blood blooming out from the wound. Corbin collapses
onto the ground, and before he can recover, Cristiano strides in and goes
straight for him.
He makes quick work of one wrist in a cable tie before Corbin
understands what’s happening and starts to fight back.
Corbin collects himself fast enough. He looks up at me and starts
laughing. “You fucking piece of trash. You brought him here? I told you not
to bring any fuck toys home.”
Cristiano grabs for Corbin’s other wrist, but Corbin is quick to dodge.
Instead, he grips Cristiano’s wrist, for all that he can’t keep the hold on it
when Cristiano twists it out of his grasp. He doesn’t respond to Corbin’s
words, which almost makes me wonder if he agrees with what Corbin is
saying.
I throw that thought off and grab the belt Corbin had dropped. While
Corbin and Cristiano struggle with each other, I loop the belt around
Corbin’s neck and pull it tight. His eyes widen, and he tries to punch me
again, but Cristiano grabs his wrist and finally manages to get both hands
tied behind his back.
I keep pulling the belt, watching Corbin’s face turn redder and redder.
He makes little raspy, gasping motions, but without air he can’t make any
sounds.
It’s so fucking easy. I should have done this years ago.
But where would I have gone, years ago?
“Fox! We still need him alive!” Cristiano barks, and I snap out of it
enough to loosen the belt.
Corbin gasps and coughs as air finally re-enters his lungs.
“Good boy,” Cristiano says, his voice quieter but still hard, cold. He
shoves Corbin back onto his ass on the ground. “You can finish him off
when we’re done questioning him. He doesn’t deserve to share the same air
as you.”
Corbin starts laughing. “Good boy? What, does Robin have you
convinced he’s some nice, sweet little boy? He’s trash through and through.
Defective. Can’t even follow basic fucking orders—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Cristiano snarls, kicking Corbin in the knee and
making him scream. “He follows orders when it matters.”
Do I? All I’ve done is provoke Cristiano and demand he give me
attention. But I like the warm flutter I get listening to Cristiano—Daddy—
defend me.
Good boy.
Maybe I could be good, for him.
“It was Silvano who ordered the hit, right?” I ask, calmer than I feel.
“But why did you tell him about me?”
Corbin shakes his head and laughs again, although the sound is a lot
more pained than before. “You’ve never been that good at thinking. It’s why
I tell you to just follow orders.”
 I clench my fists and try to ignore his goading. He must have mentioned
me to Silvano somehow. Then the explosion, and…
“Did you want me to die?” I ask, even quieter. “Is that what this whole
thing was about?”
“I never wanted you to begin with,” Corbin answers. “Your brother was
going to be the one I kept. But you knew that.”
Yes, I did. He’d made a point to bring it up, over and over. If my brother
hadn’t tried to hide me. If I hadn’t made a noise and given our position
away. If he hadn’t tried to tackle Corbin to give me a chance to escape.
I don’t remember anything else about him. I don’t even remember his
name.
How fucking dumb is that? I wasn’t that young. I should have been able
to remember my own family's names. But all I remember is the red
splattered all over the kitchen tile, and Corbin cursing about his plans going
sour.
“Guess you’ll have to do,” he’d said. “Unless you want me to shoot you
too.”
And I hadn’t. I’d been so afraid, and I’d gone with the man who’d killed
my entire family, and I don’t even fucking remember their names or faces.
I blink quickly to stave off the sudden tears.
“You served your purpose,” Corbin continues, “But I’m tying up loose
ends. I don’t need you anymore.”
Cristiano curses, and he punches Corbin in the face. “You’re one sick
and twisted fuck, you know that?” he snaps. “Even for our line of business,
you’re out of fucking line. How often have you told him that as a kid?” He
makes a dismissive gesture. “Fuck it, and fuck you, Corbin. You don’t have
a lot of time left, but you know that, don’t you? That’s why your cowardly
ass isn’t doing anything but taunting Fox.”
“Fucking mafia hypocrite,” Corbin says, spitting out some blood. “But
thanks for providing all the weapons anyone could ever need in my line of
business. All the orphaned kids thank you too.”
Cristiano snarls at him, his expression going ugly. It’s probably a
thought he’s had before, a thought he’s had to come to accept. “Do you
know who killed Don Cresci?” he asks after a moment, though he doesn’t
even sound like he thinks Corbin would talk even if he knew the answer.
“Who the fuck keeps up with mafia politics? You guys are very good at
murdering each other even without hiring outside assassins.” Corbin starts
laughing again. “Maybe Robin did do it. Robin’s very good at killing
people.”
“No,” I say, forcing myself to shake off the memories. “I don’t think
Corbin knows anything else. We’ll check his computer…” I wince,
remembering the layers of security on it. Then I look at Corbin,
considering. “We’ll just need his thumb and eyeball for the scanners.”
Cristiano nods. “All right. Keep him alive until we’re sure that’s all we
need from him. Do you need help? You still have my knife.”
“No. I can handle it.” I go up to Corbin and dig my fingers into the
crease of his eye. Corbin struggles, but Cristiano’s got a tight hold on him.
I’ve never taken an eye out. It’s surprisingly easy, and Corbin’s cursing
and shouting is just background noise. I use the knife to sever the nerve,
and I stare at the bloody eyeball in the palm of my hand.
Is this enough? Does this make up for everything Corbin’s done to me?
Corbin starts laughing now, despite the blood streaming out of his eye.
“Maybe I picked the right one after all. My bloodthirsty little robin.”
“He isn’t your anything,” Cristiano snaps, his eyes dark as he stares at
the two of us. “I claimed him, and he’s mine. He’ll be mine until the end of
his days. You? You’re not going to live to see the next sunrise.” He twists
Corbin around so I can more easily reach his hands. “I don’t think we’re
going to need him alive, but hell, I’m not ready to kill him yet. He hasn’t
screamed enough. Get his thumb.”
 My chest tightens, and I smile slightly at Cristiano. “Yes, Daddy,” I
answer.
Corbin laughs again, but I don’t care.
The angle is awkward, and the cut isn’t clean. That’s probably the point.
Corbin’s laughter turns to screaming that doesn’t die down even after I’ve
removed his thumb. There’s blood all over us now.
I lean over Corbin’s blood-soaked body and kiss Cristiano, tugging on
his beard with my bloody fingers.
“My bloodthirsty little fox,” Cristiano says fiercely when we break the
kiss, both breathless and bloody. He stands up properly, offering his hand
out to me. I almost laugh, because I have an eyeball in one hand and a
thumb in the other, and Cristiano cracks a slight smile when he realizes it.
“I’ll go…” I motion toward a door on the other end of the basement. It
has a keypad and eyeball scanner lock. Cristiano nods, and I walk over
there, listening to Corbin heave and whimper.
He’s just a man like every other.
The scanner doesn’t care that the eyeball is covered in blood, and the
pin I enter is the correct one. I was half afraid he’d changed it already, but I
guess even paranoid hitmen get lazy sometimes.
The room beyond is where Corbin stores all the weapons and
electronics. I walk past the guns and head straight to the computer, using the
thumbprint scanner to unlock it. It takes me several tries, and I do need to
wipe the thumb off so the scanner can get a clear picture.
Unfortunately, there’s another password request after that, and I stare
blankly at it.
I get up and go back to Corbin. “What’s the password?” I ask him.
Predictably, he laughs at me. “A random series of letters, numbers, and
glyphs.” His voice is rougher than normal, proof of how much pain he’s in.
“Before I slit your throat or put a gun to your head and blow your brains
out, you’re going to tell Fox that password,” Cristiano says, his voice steely.
“And before you tell me to fuck off, let me tell you what I’m going to do to
you if you don’t.” In a steady voice, he details what body parts he’s going to
cut off, in what order, and how. Then he adds, “But don’t worry. Before I
force-feed you your balls, I’ll cook them for you. I hear testicles are great
deep fried. You can tell me.”
Corbin laughs even harder. “I’ll be dead by then. Have fun with my
deep-fried balls.”
I squat down so I’m closer to Corbin, and I push my knife up against
Corbin’s cheek. I consider where the security vulnerability could be. He
won’t have an easy to guess password—but he has a lot of them.
He needs some way to remember all the passwords.
I dig the knife in deeper, cutting into him, and reach for his phone.
The pin is a different one than on the door, but I know this one, too.
He’s the one who taught me to always pay attention when people are
futzing with their phones.
It doesn’t take me long to find the password manager… and in a stroke
of luck, it’s still logged in. I grin at him. “Did you get annoyed at having to
input the master password every time?”
Corbin’s one eye widens, and he begins struggling harder. “Don’t you
fucking dare, Robin.”
Cristiano laughs. “They’re right. Torture doesn’t always get you what
you want. But sheer cleverness does. Well done, my little Fox. Go see if
you can access it now. I’ll keep Corbin company while you do.”
I head back to his computer and manage to log in. I find the secure
email server he uses—the one he had me use, too—and note with dismay
that he’s deleted everything.
But there’s a new email, one he hadn’t had time to read yet.
What the fuck happened? You promised he’d be dead this time! Why
isn’t he dead, and why’s a ‘robin’ poking around?
 The email was sent from an anonymous account, but I know Corbin
would have kept records. I find the secured folder, unlock it with the help of
the password manager… and nearly gasp at what I find.
It’s an archive of all past contracts. Not just the recent ones, but going
back decades.
My family might be in here, too.
No, never mind that. It’s not important right now. I look up the relevant
dates. Target, location, payment… and client.
It isn’t Silvano Cresci, though. It’s Peter Boyce.
Did he place the hit on Silvano’s orders? Or was he independently
trying to get rid of Cristiano?
I close the file. I’m going to need to poke through everything later, but
we need to deal with the more immediate problems first.
A folder on the desktop labeled as ‘R’ catches my attention though. I
click on it, expecting to find training details or assessments about me.
Instead, it’s a folder of pictures. Thousands of pictures of me throughout
the years. I glare at them, flipping through them quickly. They aren’t even
just pictures of me training—though there are a lot of those. There are some
of me asleep, some where I’m watching TV. Me reading a book on the
couch, not realizing that Corbin was snapping a pic right beside me.
What the fuck. This is… this is sentimental. This makes it seem like he
fucking cares about me.
He doesn’t. I know he doesn’t.
I angrily delete the folder and shut down the computer. I’ll come back
for the PC later, but I have more pressing matters.
“We can kill him now,” I tell Cristiano as I head back out. “I have
everything we need.”
Cristiano looks up at me, and it takes me a second to realize Corbin is a
bruised mess on the floor. Apparently, Cristiano has been passing the time
by taking his frustration out on Corbin, and Corbin probably isn’t far from
dead as it is.
“Do you want to do the honors?” Cristiano asks me. There’s something
in his eyes I’ve never seen before, even when he was pissed off at me. It’s
something wild—almost crazed, even. “I’ve already told him where he’s…
erred with you.”
I should. I stare down at Corbin’s bloodied body. He’s barely breathing,
and his face is a bruised, bleeding mess.
He’s old.
I unholster my gun and check the chamber. One more bullet. It would be
fitting if I shot him with it.
But why did he have photos of me on his computer? Why did it seem
like he fucking cared, when all I remember of him is the beatings and the
lashing and the harsh words and…
And sitting down here together, watching tv, while he explained why
people were laughing.
How he cooked dinner for us.
How he taught me to hold a gun, how to ignore all the pain.
He made me a birthday cake once, and I don’t think it was even my
birthday, but I remember being overjoyed.
Fuck. Why don’t I hate him?
“You do it,” I say to Cristiano. “Please.”
“Gladly,” Cristiano says. He unholsters his own gun and clicks off the
safety. He points it at Corbin, and…
Just like that, Corbin is gone.
His blood splatters onto my face. He’d been too out of it to even taunt
me before it happened.
I thought I’d feel different.
But my memories of my life before don’t come rushing back. I don’t
feel relieved. I’m not sad, either, but it’s not…
 I wipe off some of the blood and look at Cristiano. “Peter Boyce. He’s
the one who ordered the hit.”
Cristiano sighs. He isn’t surprised, I can see that much. “Do you know if
it was on Silvano’s orders?”
I shake my head. “Only that it was Boyce who ordered it.”
Nodding, Cristiano studies me for a moment then says quietly, “I’m
sorry, Fox.” He hesitates. “I’d offer to call you Robin, but—”
“No,” I interrupt him.
He smiles. “But I don’t want to,” he finishes.
I return a crooked smile. “It wasn’t my real name, anyway.” I stare
down at Corbin’s corpse. “We should probably clean up. And plan. And…”
My knees suddenly feel weak, and I drop to the floor next to Corbin’s
corpse. “Daddy… You aren’t going to leave, right? I’m your Fox no matter
what?”
Cristiano grabs my hair, and I’m oddly grateful for his tight grasp as he
forces my head up to look at him. “You’re mine,” he says, and there’s such
confident assurance in his voice that I can’t help but believe him. “I’m not
giving you up, Fox. Even if you want me to, I… Call me an abusive bastard
if you want, but I’m not letting you go.”
I laugh, some of my tension easing. “I already told you; I want you to
completely dominate me. Do you even listen to me?”
“I listen,” Cristiano says gravely. “But I’m not sure you know what
you’re asking for. That’s all.”
I bat his hand away and stand up, pouting at him. “Well, fuck you too,
Daddy. I’m not unable to consent to all the fun fucked up shit just because I
had a shitty childhood. I’m still the same Fox as I was when you decided to
strap a shock collar to my cock.”
“Ah, yes. I’d almost forgotten,” he says, and this time, his smirk is
devious. “If you liked that, just wait and see what else I have planned for
you.” He pauses, then says, “Actually, I don’t care how you felt about it. I
still have more planned for you.”
My heart beats faster, and I step around the corpse so I can wrap my
arms around Cristiano’s shoulders. “Yeah? Like what? I have high
standards, Daddy.”
“And ruin the surprise?” He leans in and kisses me, bloody faces and
all. “Never.” He pulls me close against him, tightening his arms around me.
“Though I think the first order of business is to shower and change clothes.”
He pulls back slightly. “You get to explain to Briar why their suit is all
fucked up, by the way.”
I stare down at my outfit. “I don’t know, I think it completes the look.
Bloody chic.”
Cristiano chuckles. “Yeah. You tell them that.” He wraps an arm around
my waist, then pauses. Sighing, he says, “Let’s go get cleaned up. You think
any of his clothes will fit me?”
“Might be a bit tight in the crotch area?” I grip his cock through his
trousers, licking my lips suggestively—even though I really don’t have the
energy for sex right now. I’m honestly exhausted, and all I want to do is
collapse into bed. I let go of Cristiano and sigh. “Come on, I’ll give you the
tour. You’ve seen the murder basement, but we’ve got a lovely primary
suite and luxurious shower…”
As I lead Cristiano upstairs, I glance at Corbin’s corpse one last time.
I still don’t feel that sense of closure, but I’m starting to suspect it’s
never going to come.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
 CRISTIANO

F ox ’ s bed isn’t huge, but there’s enough room for both of us as long as we
cuddle close. I have my arm around him, with his head on my chest, and I
simply listen to the sound of his even breathing. I’m glad he relaxed enough
to fall asleep. I’m not worried about the dead man in the basement, but that
was Fox’s pseudo-father for years.
We hadn’t spoken about it again, only showering and collapsing into
bed. It should be safe enough here for now, but I’d powered off my phone
anyway—just in case Silvano is trying in earnest to find us.
The thought of it is enough to darken my mood, and I sigh. I can’t
believe Silvano thinks I’d ever harm his father—especially right when he
was about to retire, and I’d been nearly guaranteed a promotion up the
ranks.
Unless, of course, Silvano plans to demote me and doesn’t think I’ll
take it well… and he’d be right. I wouldn’t.
But that would just put a target on Silvano’s back, not Don Cresci.
Fox stirs, and I stroke his back slowly. I’m not ready for him to wake. I
need more time with my thoughts.
Then Fox bites my shoulder, as hard as he can. I yelp and swat him on
the ass.
Fox smiles and licks the bite. “Hey,” he whispers. “You didn’t leave.”
 I want to tease him, but I have a feeling he’s not ready for that yet. Not
after losing Corbin, as much of a fucking asshole as the guy had been.
“Nope. I stayed right here.” I stroke his hair. “I’d have muzzled you if I’d
realized you were going to bite, though.”
“That could be fun,” Fox says. He props himself up on his elbows to
look at me and licks his lips. “But how will you use my mouth if I’m
gagged?”
“Hmm…” I look at him, realizing I’ve never made use of his mouth
before. “That’s an excellent question. I could use one of those o-gags, I
suppose, but I’d rather feel you all into it.”
“Your cock would be enough of a gag, anyway.” Fox reaches down to
paw at my cock through the sweats. “You can shove it all the way down my
throat until I’m choking on you, Daddy.”
I groan at the thought. I don’t know why we’ve never done oral before,
but I’ll be damned if I pass up an opportunity right now. Sure, Silvano’s out
for blood, and I’m sure there’s a price on my head all over again, but… I
need this time with Fox, and Fox needs this more than I think I could ever
understand. “You want that, Fox? You want me to choke you with my cock
until you gag and your eyes water and you struggle to breathe? I might not
stop even when you need air.”
Now it’s Fox’s turn to moan, and he nods eagerly. “Yes, please, Daddy.”
He sits up and starts shimmying out of his briefs.
I stretch out in the bed, watching him intently. He’s had a hard life, and
I don’t intend to take it easy on him.
He doesn’t want me to.
“Take off my sweats,” I order him. My cock is already getting hard
beneath the fabric, and I’m more than ready for him to coax it the rest of the
way into an erection with his luscious mouth and those full lips wrapped
around it.
 Fox pulls on the elastic of the sweats to release my cock. As soon as it’s
free, he bends down and licks the crown. His mouth is already widening to
take my cock in.
I grip his hair to prevent him from doing any more than that. “What did
I tell you to do, boy?”
Fox pulls back, and I tighten my grasp on his hair. Judging from his
reaction, that’s exactly what he wanted me to do.
“Umm… get your cock out and suck it?” Fox says, uncertainly. I don’t
know if he actually forgot or he’s just playing dumb to provoke me, but
either way, I tug sharply on his hair.
“No. I told you to remove my sweats. Do it right.”
Fox lets out a soft huff and nods. I wait a few seconds before I release
him—and instead of following orders, Fox just bends down. Before he can
get his mouth around my cock, I yank his hair back, harder than before.
“Is your hole starting to feel better already, Fox?” I ask darkly, staring at
his beautiful face. “You need me to make it hurt again? Is that why you’re
acting out instead of being a good boy?”
Fox tenses at those words. “Don’t… Not right now, please.”
I start to soften, but that’s not what he wants either. “Sit up and let me
see your hole, Fox,” I command. “Let me see your ass and how much
damage I managed to do before you tempted me into fucking it.”
He eagerly turns around, straddling my waist and raising up his ass. He
even spreads his bruised cheeks to show off his hole for me, while his cock
and balls dangle enticingly.
“I barely even felt it, Daddy,” Fox says, and I’m glad to hear the
amusement in his voice.
“Hmm… Well, this time I can spank you hard enough to make you
scream, and there’s no one here to stop me. No one here to rescue you. But
you don’t want that, do you? You don’t want anyone to stop me,” I say.
“Yes,” Fox whispers. “Please, Daddy. Wreck me.”
 I groan, because the sound of it… No one’s ever really meant it when
they said it. They wanted a spanking, or a caning, but they always had such
low limits. Even Luke—fucking Luke—hadn’t really wanted me to go hard
on him. He’d wanted it primarily for the aftermath, I think, for the aftercare
and the sex I never gave him.
“Get on your back,” I say hoarsely. “I want to play with you before I
choke you and hurt you and fuck you until you beg for more.”
Fox eagerly rolls off me and gets on his back, grabbing his legs and
spreading wide for me immediately. “My cock hasn’t been abused in a
while,” Fox suggests.
What an insatiable little masochist.
“Hmm… Isn’t it torture not to do it to you?” I smirk at him as I switch
positions, shedding my sweats completely and discarding them next to the
bed. “I think I have a better idea.” I get between his legs, and I take just the
tip of his cock into my mouth. I suck hard, tasting him—a little bitter, a
little salty, and perfectly Fox. I let my teeth scrape the head of his cock,
eliciting a moan from him.
For a few minutes, I take my time, abusing his cock with my teeth,
squeezing him painfully tight with my hand—then I let him go.
“Keep your legs spread and push your ass up,” I tell him, licking my
lips.
There’s something else I want to taste.
Fox groans and lifts himself up as much as he can. “You can bite
harder,” he mumbles. “Please, Daddy.”
“I know I can bite harder,” I say. “I can do whatever the fuck I want to
do to you, can’t I, Fox? Tell me. I want to hear it from you.”
“You can… you can do whatever the fuck you want to do to me,
Daddy,” Fox repeats breathlessly. “But I would really enjoy it if it included
teeth.”
 I laugh. “Soon. But first…” I grip his cock, stroking it slowly for a
moment before I shift so I’m looking directly at his hole. It’s all bruised
around it, the pucker just beckoning for me to force my tongue in—so I do.
Fox howls and arches his back. “F-fuck. Daddy, please, please—” One
of his hands goes down to his cock, and I slap it away.
“None of that,” I growl. “I’m playing with you however I want,
remember? You’re my boy, my pet, my fucktoy. Aren’t you?” I don’t give
him a chance to respond before my tongue is inside of him again, and I
grasp his cock, squeezing it and digging my blunt fingernails into his shaft.
He writhes underneath me, but his hands stay on the bed, clutching the
sheets, as I suck on the sensitive skin around his hole. Fox makes these
beautiful sounds as I force pleasure and pain on him alike.
And yes, I bite down, and Fox lets out an intoxicating long whine in
response.
“Please, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” Fox begs incoherently. “I need… I
need…”
“What do you need?” I ask, licking up his perineum, digging my nails in
harder into his erect cock. “Tell me all about it while I torment you and
make you cry for me.”
“I need you,” Fox cries out. “More, please. I want to feel you. Your cock
—I really love your cock, Daddy. It’s so big and thick and perfect. And
your hands, how you hurt me, it’s so good—”
I almost tell him good boy, but I don’t want to ruin this moment for him.
Still, it’s on the tip of my tongue, and I think it so hard I might as well say
it. But I want more from him.
I haven’t forgotten my promise to choke him with my cock, and I move
across the bed until the tip of my cock is dangling just above his mouth.
“Take my cock into your mouth,” I order him. “As deep as it’ll go. Now.”
Fox eagerly opens his mouth, and this angle means he has absolutely no
control at all. I thrust my cock in, and he can’t do anything but exactly what
I demand. He sucks and licks, and when my cock reaches the back of his
throat, I can feel it convulse around me.
“Take it,” I tell him. “Just fucking take it.” I move so I can grab his cock
and feed it into my mouth, accepting it little by little. Unlike him, I have a
choice on how much I lick and suck at a time. I do wish I could see his face,
to watch it redden, to see if he’s close to needing to take a breath, but at the
same time…
I love that I can be this careless with him, this free.
“Tap me when you need to breathe,” I say, pulling off him with a loud
pop. “I’m not going to pull back until you’re damn near passing out. Hum
around me if you understand that I’ll be pissed at you if you don’t warn me,
or I won’t spank you afterwards.”
Fox hums, and I feel that sound vibrate through my cock. I damn near
come from that alone, as if I was still a fucking teenager.
I thrust into his mouth, into his throat, letting myself go. He’s going to
be hoarse from this, and I know I’ll get a thrill every time he talks knowing
that I did that to him. I want him to be unable to sit, unable to talk.
I want him to be mine in every way.
Fox’s hips thrust up, like he’s trying to get deeper into my mouth, and I
growl and pin him down again. I lift off of him enough to give him a tiny
bit of air—and I chuckle when I feel Fox chasing my cock and sucking
harder on it.
I’m so close to coming that I can feel my balls tighten, the pressure
building at the base of my spine until I’m not sure how long I can hold it
back. I keep sucking on him, though, scraping my teeth hard against him.
I should have known that it would be pain that does it for him. Fox cries
out—which I can feel all the way through my balls—and comes in my
mouth, no further warning than that.
I swallow it down, every single bit, and shove my cock even deeper
down his throat. I don’t know if he can handle holding me as long as he
does, but when I pull back, he’s just breathing hard.
“I’m not finished with you yet,” I say when he’s finally done, when I
finally stop laving his cock with my tongue. “Let’s see if I can get you off
twice.” I climb off of him, staring down at him and his swollen lips. God,
he looks good like this.
He licks those blow-job lips and smirks at me. “Do you have the energy
for that, Daddy?”
I slap his softening cock, hard, and he yelps. “I always have the energy
to fuck you, boy. Though I’m not sure you deserve it. Coming without
permission.” I cluck my tongue. “Not getting Daddy off first.”
“But Daddy, you just have such good stamina! It wasn’t my fault!” Fox
giggles as he says it, and that sound goes straight to my fucking heart.
I smile before I can catch myself, and I kiss that mouth that just brought
me so much pleasure, that mouth that is now curved into a smile. “Now it’s
my turn,” I tell him. I’m so hard it hurts, leaking onto the blanket beneath
me, and I don’t even care about preparing him. “You want me? Or should I
just fuck my own hand and come all over those beautiful lips?”
“No! Fuck me, Daddy, please. I want to feel you inside me.” He wraps
his arms around my back and tries to pull me closer. “Please, Daddy.”
“You think you’ve earned that?” I ask, resisting as I smirk down at him.
I want, so badly, to ask him if he’s my good boy, but it would ruin the
moment. As much as I love his tears, he’s too fragile right now—whether
he wants to believe that or not. “My cock sinking into your tight little ass,
fucking you until you’re nice and hard again? Then maybe letting you
come, maybe not?”
“Oh god please.” Fox rolls his hips, bringing his soft cock up against
my thigh. “I don’t even care if I come again. Just want to know you feel
good, Daddy.”
I chuckle, finally letting him pull me nearer. I poise the head of my cock
against his tight little hole, groaning. It’s going to feel amazing, just like it
always does, and I can’t wait to sink inside of him. “Like this?” I tease him.
“You want this?”
Fox nods eagerly. His face is still flushed red, and he has a sheen of
sweat on him, and I don’t think he’s ever been more beautiful than this. I
lean down to capture his lips again, nipping at the bottom lip and drinking
in all of Fox’s moans.
“Daddy… don’t tease me like this…” Fox complains, shifting his hips
and trying to force me in.
“But I enjoy teasing you,” I tell him. Tell me you’re a good boy for
Daddy, I almost say, the words threatening to spill past my lips. One day.
One day, he’ll tell me he’s my good boy. One day, he’ll say the words
unflinching. But today… I start to shove inside of him, making his body
bow up as I force my way in. I slap his cock, just to see him react, groaning
as I feel his ass around me.
Fox relaxes enough that I can slide inside him all the way, but once I’m
fully seated, he starts tensing his ass like he’s trying to milk me dry. Fuck. I
pinch one of his nipples, which makes him shudder and cling even tighter to
me.
“I want you to make noise,” I tell him. “I want to hear every whimper
and sound that you’re trying to hold back right now. I want to hear you.” I
withdraw almost all the way then shove back in, fighting against his
tightness. It’s a pity I don’t have lube with me, but he’s taking me anyway.
“Daddy, Daddy…” Fox leans up as much as he can and kisses my
shoulder—which quickly turns into a bite. I should have known. I thrust
harder into him, dislodging his mouth and drawing loud whimpers out of
him.
He clings to the bedsheets, writhing and yes, making such beautiful
sounds for me. Begging for me, calling for his Daddy to please fuck him
harder.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything more beautiful than this.
 I fuck him roughly, and somewhere along the way, his cock starts to
harden again. I pinch the head of it, slowing down just long enough to
torment him for a moment before starting my thrusts up again. “Beg me to
come in you. Beg me to fill you,” I tell him, my voice gravelly with lust and
need.
“Daddy, please, come inside me. Mark me. Claim me. Make me yours,
Daddy,” Fox begs with a hoarse voice. His eyes meet mine, and I know he
means every one of those words. He isn’t playing it up for me like he had
during our first real meeting.
He wants me as badly as I want him.
He’d killed for me.
He’d had multiple opportunities to finish me off, but he’d chosen me,
just as I’d chosen him.
I groan, and my next thrust makes me come deep inside of him. I fill
him with my seed, throwing my head back as I feel the pleasure race
through my body. It’s so much, too much, and I feel like I’m coming
forever.
Fox kisses every part of me that he can reach, some of those kisses
turning into bites. My neck, my shoulders, my jaw. I’m going to be bruised
all over, marked as his just as much as he is mine.
When my pleasure finally subsides, I reluctantly pull out of him and
drop down next to him. Fox immediately plasters himself against my front,
as if he can’t stand to have any space between us.
I feel his semi-hard cock against my stomach. I could pull back and take
care of it. I could pinch him and smack him and abuse him until he spills all
over me. But I like that he’s like this, not even asking—satisfied because
I’m satisfied—and I sigh in contentment as I keep him close to me with my
arm around his waist.
“Are you all right?” I ask, reluctant to break the mood but wanting to be
sure that he’s not tormented by what we’d done the night before. I need to
know. I need to comfort him if he needs it. I can’t leave him miserable,
without knowing whether he’s aching.
“Perfectly fine. Still hard.” Fox buries his head against my chest. “But if
you mean about Corbin…” I feel his nails dig into my back. “I don’t know.
He had photos of me on his PC. Like… sentimental photos. How can he
have those when he fucking tried to blow me up to get rid of this loose
end?”
I sigh, wanting to resurrect Corbin so I can beat the shit out of him all
over again, so I can tell him more of what he did wrong to Fox. “I don’t
know,” I say, and I really don’t. I was mafia-made, part of a family. I hold
loyalty to those I feel deserve it—and I protect those who I value. Like
Briar.
Like Fox.
“He was a piece of shit. He…” Fox takes a shuddering breath. “Fuck,
don’t laugh, okay? But I was terrified, so I just… took his hand. When he
said I could either go with him or end up splattered on the floor like the rest
of my family. It’s so fucking stupid. He murdered them. And I just…”
“You were a kid,” I say, my voice as soothing as I can make it even
though I’m practically roiling with rage inside at the idea of someone
hurting my Fox. “It wasn’t stupid. It was survival.” I can’t say I wouldn’t
have made the same decision as Fox.
“You would have just followed the guy who murdered your entire
fucking family?” Fox lets out a half-manic laugh. “I had a sister too. I
remember her even less than my brother. I think she had long hair? Maybe?
She was younger than me. I think. And my brother was probably older.
Because it’s the older siblings that protect the younger ones, right? And
maybe my parents were all right. I don’t remember them being bad, but I
don’t fucking remember any of them anyway.”
Fuck.
I don’t even know what to say.
 “It came back to haunt him, eventually,” I say, thinking of Corbin’s dead
body. “I don’t know, Fox. I was raised in violence, too. I lost…” My throat
threatens to close up as I try to talk about who had previously been the most
important person in my life. “I killed my father, too,” I admit after a
moment.
“Yeah? Was he a piece of shit like Corbin?” Fox scoots back so he can
look me in the eyes. His own are a bit red, but I don’t see any tears. His
cock has gone soft by now too.
I bark out a bitter laugh. “You could say that,” I say, though I fall silent
for a moment. “My… first love. First and only love.” Until you, I almost
say, but I think it’s too soon for that. “My father was a homophobic piece of
shit, yeah. I was stupid, and I decided I was coming out even though I knew
better. I thought that if he met my boyfriend, he might… I don’t know.” I
laugh again, though there’s still no humor in it. “I was a stupid kid too, Fox.
I thought he’d just accept me, accept us, because I was his only kid. His
only son. Except he didn’t.” I fall silent, unsure of how to continue even as
the memories roll before my vision, reminding me of what it had been like
to see his dead body on the floor.
Fox smiles bitterly. “So he kicked you out? Sounds like he was worse
than Corbin! Corbin didn’t give a fuck who I fucked as long as I didn’t
bring them home.”
“No,” I say slowly. “He didn’t kick me out. He killed Max when I was
at work. Stalked him to where he lived, tortured him, finally ended it. Then
went back home and acted like nothing happened.” Tears prick at the
corners of my eyes as I think about something I choose never to think
about, but Fox deserves to know—especially after what he just shared with
me. “When I found him… My father never had a chance against me. But it
didn’t bring Max back. It just left me bitter and cold and empty… until Don
Cresci found me.” I sigh. “But that’s another story entirely.”
 For a while, Fox doesn’t say anything. I stroke his back, feeling
strangely anxious about having shared something so intimate. Is he judging
me, now? Or does he think my tragic tale is nothing compared to his?
“Glad you murdered him, then,” Fox finally says. “Although if he’d
tried that on me… I’d have shot him right between the eyes before he could
even blink. You don’t have to worry about anyone offing me. I can take care
of myself.”
Surprisingly, his words settle some part of me that’s been anxious for so
long. I’d always thought I could never have anyone of my own because it
was too much of a risk. It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve done more
than casual dating, and I haven’t dared do more than play with men at the
club.
But with Fox… He really can handle himself.
“I know,” I say. “Though we’re both at risk right now, until I can get
Silvano to fucking listen to me and not Peter. Shooting people isn’t going to
help either of us.”
“Sure it is. We shoot Peter and Silvano. Problem solved.” Fox twines
his hand in mine. “And you can take over or something. That’s how it
works, right? Once you’ve beaten all your rivals, you take what was once
theirs.”
I shake my head slowly. “I don’t want it,” I admit. “I was content to be
consigliere, to be underboss when Don Cresci stepped down. I don’t want
the full target on my head. Silvano… His father may not have been entirely
certain that he could take over, but I think he can as long as he doesn’t
fucking listen to Peter.”
“Unless Silvano was in on it from the start,” Fox points out. “What if I
tell you he had his cock inside me before you caught us? Would that make
killing him easier?”
I sit bolt upright, staring at Fox as rage catches up with the grief.
“What?” I ask sharply. “Did he fucking touch you, Fox?” I grab him by the
throat, even though I know on some level that I’m simply being baited.
Fox smiles widely. “Oh, definitely. His big, long cock reached so much
deeper than you ever could, Daddy. And those elegant fingers of his! He left
me so wet and messy.”
I growl at him, though my common sense quickly catches up with me.
They didn’t have time to have sex before I showed up—and Fox hadn’t
been wet and messy when I’d fucked him only minutes later. But it’s so
fucking hard to let reason take over, because the idea of Silvano fucking
Fox just has me completely irrational. “If you want me to choke you, just
fucking say so,” I tell him as I squeeze the sides of his fragile neck.
Fox moans and keeps smiling. “Technically, all I want is to kill Silvano.
Just like you do, now!”
I take a moment to breathe, flexing my fingers—tightening them,
loosening them, then tightening them again until he can’t breathe. “If
Silvano put Peter up to it, then yes, he needs to die,” I say. I release Fox.
“Now we just have to find out the truth.”
Fox gasps for air, then stretches his limbs as if he hadn’t just been
choked. “Fine, fine. I like my plan better, but I suppose we can do it your
way, Daddy.”
“Of course we’re doing it my way,” I tell him. “Now this is what we’re
going to do…”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
 FOX

“I don ’ t like it . It’s obviously a trap,” I say, for the twentieth time, as
Cristiano brings the car to a stop well away from the meeting site. It’s my
car, technically, but like with everything, Cristiano is a control freak who
didn’t want me to do the driving. “I still think we should just shoot Peter
and Silvano both instead of even entertaining… anything. If I set up on the
tower—”
“Silvano would never agree to anything unless he thought he’d have the
upper hand. It’s already a fucking miracle he agreed to meet at all,”
Cristiano says. He sounds tired, probably because he’s repeating himself for
the twentieth time as well.
“Because he figures he’ll shoot you before you can get a single word in.
Thus giving him the upper hand.” I reach out to pat his chest, just to
reassure myself of the bullet-resistant vest underneath. Not bullet-proof, of
course, and either way, it won’t help if somebody gets him in the skull.
“Come on, you don’t need Silvano. He clearly doesn’t like you, or he
wouldn’t have sicced the entire party on you.”
“He was trying to cover his own ass, and he was in shock,” Cristiano
calmly disagrees. “Now that he’s had time to think about it, he knows how
unlikely it was that I had something to do with it.” He smirks at me, though
there’s a dark edge to it that makes my stomach flutter. “And I offered to
show him your hole so he can see what we were really up to in there.”
“Sure. Make sure he gets his fingers in deep though, so he can really be
sure,” I joke, but I’m not feeling it. I want to get this all over with.
“Like hell,” Cristiano mutters.
Part of me wonders if it wouldn’t be smarter for us to disappear entirely.
Would Silvano chase us across the border? But neither of us want to live in
hiding.
“Fine. But wait until I’m set up before you go anywhere near him,
okay?” I say.
Cristiano nods, his own joking facade gone now. “All right.” He touches
the earpiece he’s wearing. “I’ve got you right here, and I won’t do anything
stupid.”
“Meeting with Silvano in the first place is stupid. On account of the
obvious trap,” I mutter.
Cristiano eyes me, but he doesn’t respond.
I stare into his eyes, and I’m gripped by this terror that I’m going to see
another red painting.
Which is dumb, because of course I am. I’m going to be killing
everybody who tries to hurt Cristiano.
I lean across the car’s console and grab Cristiano’s shirt jacket.
“Remember what you promised, Daddy.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Fox,” he says, touching my cheek with just
his fingertips at first, then cupping it. “I’m yours, and you’re mine, and
neither of us is leaving the other. If you even try, I’ll track you down and
drag you back. Remember that, too, while you’re up there shooting.”
But I’m not the one playing the bait.
I nod anyway and lean in for a kiss. Our lips meet in what is probably
our sweetest, most chaste kiss ever. I want to deepen it; I want to entice him
to fuck me over the hood of the car and forget this stupid plan.
 We’d probably get shot in the process, our pants around our ankles as
we bled out.
I pull away and breathe deeply. “Okay. I’ll let you know once I’m
ready.” I get out of the car and pop the trunk to retrieve my rifle—and
various other weapons, just in case. It’s not my favorite rifle, but I’d lost
that one in the warehouse explosion.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous about a mission before. Usually
Corbin set things up, telling me where to go and the best place to set up for
the shot. He told me the target. He handled the money.
Fuck, I’d really just trusted him with everything.
What choice did I have?
When this is all over, I’ll have to go through all the files on his
computer to figure out where all the money is and if there were any open
assignments and…
And maybe I’ll get up the nerve to find out who hired him to take out
my family.
Maybe I’ll get up the nerve to figure out who my family was.
I push all those thoughts away as I enter the under-construction
building. The fact that Silvano chose a place like this… fine, he’d chosen
the Cresci docks across the street, but he must be feeling really damn secure
to pick a location with an obvious sniper setup.
Either that or he wanted to be able to dump Cristiano’s body into the
bay as quickly as possible.
The elevator doesn’t work yet, but the stairs are already in place, and I
peek into each floor to make sure it’s empty before going on to the next
one. I don’t really need to get ambushed by somebody who heard me going
up.
When I’m finally as high as I want to be, I slowly walk across the floor
toward the window facing the docks. As expected, it doesn’t open, but I
have a glass cutter for just this reason.
 I set up the rifle on its tripod and look through the scope to find the
meeting spot. It’s a wide enough area that I won’t be able to easily cover all
of it. I need to hope nobody starts shooting before I can take aim properly.
Fuck. It’s all going to go wrong. I can feel it.
I contact Cristiano just the same. “I’m in place, Daddy. Please stay away
from the extremely exposed areas.”
“Everything is extremely exposed,” he points out in a low voice so the
subvocal mic can pick up the sound.
“Yeah, well. There’s an overhang on one of the buildings that will semi-
shield your head, at least.” As long as the bullet doesn’t go through the
overhang, as long as the shooter isn’t angled in a way that makes Cristiano’s
body an easy target.
Who am I kidding? It doesn’t even have to be a sniper. Silvano could
whip out a gun and shoot him point blank.
I should shoot Silvano first, Cristiano’s preferences be damned.
I watch as Silvano’s car pulls up to the dock, and Silvano and a guard
get out. I doubt that’s the entirety of their contingent, though. I’m really not
happy that Peter Boyce isn’t with them.
I scan the surrounding area, trying to figure out where else I’d set up to
snipe somebody on the docks. Cristiano arrives, and of course the first thing
that happens is that everybody pulls out their guns.
“I can still shoot Silvano,” I say to Cristiano. I aim my rifle at Silvano.
“Just get him to stand a little farther away from the other guy.”
“No,” Cristiano says, much to my continued frustration. I don’t know
why he insists on going through with this. It’s not like mob men value
honor and loyalty like he seems to think they do. But he won’t budge on
this.
I make a frustrated sound and take aim again. If I get rid of the guard—
Wait. I spot movement on top of one of the nearby shipping containers,
behind Cristiano. The guy’s got a perfect shot from there, and he’s got a gun
big enough to hit.
I don’t even think. I reangle my rifle and take the shot.
The guy’s head explodes in red and falls forward.
“What the fuck?” Cristiano says. I don’t hear what else is said, but I see
Cristiano diving out of the way to avoid a bullet from the guard.
I curse under my breath and re-angle the sniper rifle, but I can’t get a
clean shot while Cristiano and the guard are grappling with each other.
Maybe if I go for Silvano instead…
“Fucking found you,” somebody behind me says.
My instincts kick in, and I move just in time to avoid getting a bullet to
the head myself. When I right myself, I see Peter Boyce standing across the
empty floor, gun pointed at me.
“Guess I failed to murder Cristiano,” I tell him, dashing toward a nearby
pillar. “But I have a no returns policy.”
“Fucking—” Peter shoots again, and the bullet ricochets off the pillar.
I pull my phone out and jab a few buttons to start recording. Then I
unholster my handgun and undo the safety. I’m pretty sure I’m a better shot
than Peter, but I need answers.
“Why’d you order the hit?” I ask, listening for his footsteps. “Cristiano
says you were always buddy-buddy.”
“Yeah, Cristiano would,” Peter growls. “Do you know how fucking hard
I’ve worked to get where I am in the org? But nothing I did was ever
enough. Don Cresci refused to acknowledge me. He just kept giving all the
accolades to Cristiano.”
I roll my eyes. “Boo-hoo, you weren’t as good as Cristiano. How would
getting rid of him help you, if Cresci thought you were a loser?”
Another shot, and this one embeds itself next to my feet. I grimace and
prepare to leave cover.
“Don Cresci was never going to be on my side. But he was supposed to
be out of the picture soon anyway. And Silvano would know I’d helped
him.”
He shoots again, but he must not hit the gun range as often as I do
because it’s another dumb shot that misses. It does tell me where he’s
shooting from, though.
I count to three, look over the side, and shoot.
Peter screams, and his gun clatters to the floor. I run forward and tackle
him before he can get his bearings.
The bullet hit him in the shoulder. Not quite where I’d hoped, but at
least I didn’t kill him immediately.
I pull out the zip ties from the back of my jeans and wrestle to get his
arms bound behind his back. He’s fighting me despite the bullet wound, and
unfortunately, he’s bigger than I am.
But like I said, bullets are quite the equalizer.
I shoot him in the thigh, and he screams again. While he’s convulsing in
pain, I get him tied up—arm behind his back, ankles together. He can’t do
anything except flop around like a dying fish now.
“No moving. I want you alive right now—but who knows how long
that’ll last.”
“F-fuck you, you fucking f—”
I slap him across the face before he can finish that. “Peter, you’re in a
really precarious situation. So just answer my questions and maybe I’ll get
you medical attention before you bleed out all over the floor.”
Peter tries to sneer at me, but it falls flat. Even if he’d been perfectly
healthy and not at my mercy, I wouldn’t have cared about what he said.
“Liar,” he spits.
“Okay, yeah, probably.” I dig my finger into the bullet wound on his
shoulder, and his face scrunches up in pain once more. I wait until his
whimpering dies down a little before smearing his blood across his face.
“Be honest. You’re the one who killed Don Cresci, aren’t you? Did you do
it yourself? Or did you hire somebody else to do your dirty work this time,
too?”
Peter sweats and shakes his head. “I didn’t—”
I unsheathe my knife—Cristiano’s knife—and cut a hole into the fly of
his pants. “Try again. The truth, this time, unless you want to die dickless.
Did you kill Cresci?”
“No!” Peter says, staring down at the knife. “No, fuck you, I didn’t kill
Cresci!”
I cut a slit into his tighty whities, exposing the flesh of his cock. Not
exactly something I want to be staring at, but straight men are always so
terrified of any other guy seeing their dicks.
The knife probably doesn’t help.
“Did you send somebody to murder him?” I ask, digging the tip of the
knife into the head of his cock, right next to the slit.
Peter goes still, and he stares at me. “Yes! All right? I paid some bitch to
off him. Now get your fucking knife away from my cock, you fucking
freak.”
Well, there’s that, at least. “Did Silvano put you up to it?” I ask, rotating
the knife just enough to nick the skin. “He wanted Daddy Dearest out of the
way?”
“F-fuck,” Peter shouts. “I just—I needed Silvano to take over. Before
Cresci changed his mind and…”
He trails off. I wonder if he’s going to try to fight me, but I guess the
knife against his dick is enough of an encouragement to stay very, very still.
“And what? What was Cresci going to change his mind about?” I
demand.
Peter whimpers and shakes his head. “He was gonna put Cristiano in
charge. Because he wasn’t as much of a… he wasn’t as weak as Silvano.”
Well, isn’t that nice. I might have liked Cresci if he’d lived. He clearly
saw how superior Cristiano was to Silvano. Still, I’m annoyed that Peter
was acting independently. I wanted to murder Silvano.
“Anything else Cristiano and I should know?” I ask him. “Anything you
want to say in your defense?”
“My defense?” He tries to laugh but it cuts off when I push the knife
more firmly against his dick, just enough to cut the flesh. “Fuck!”
“Was it worth it?” I ask, curiously. I’ve never met one of my clients face
to face. “Did you get what you wanted?”
Peter whimpers through gritted teeth. “I was going to get Silvano to the
top. I was going to be his underboss. If you’d just done your fucking job. If
Cristiano just fucking checked his mail. I was already laughing about
Cristiano’s death—”
I move the knife off his dick. Peter sighs, but before he can truly relax, I
drive the knife into his throat.
The blood gets everywhere. My hand is slick with it, and the sleeve of
my shirt is soaked. I brace myself for the feelings of anger and helplessness
I’d felt when I’d seen Corbin’s blood, but nothing comes.
Peter’s blood isn’t the same shade.
Peter doesn’t matter.
I get up, remove the knife from his throat, and ignore his wet gurgles as
he dies.
“Cristiano,” I say. “I’m going to send you something. It’ll be useful.”
My chest tightens when I don’t get a response immediately, but a few
seconds later his deep voice rumbles in my ear. “Yep. Ready now.”
I wipe my hand on Peter’s slacks so I can operate my phone and send
the recording to Cristiano.
Hopefully that’ll be enough for him to decide what to do with Silvano,
while I clean up here and remove any incriminating evidence.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
 CRISTIANO

B efore all of this , I would’ve called Silvano Cresci a friend.

But now that I’m staring at him, aiming my gun at him, it doesn’t feel
like we could be any further apart.
Friendship is pointless. Fox had been right that this was a trap. I’d
known as much going in, but I’d wanted to believe the best of Silvano. It’s
hard right now, when Silvano and his bodyguard both have their own guns
pointed at me.
I don’t want to shoot Silvano, but if it comes down to it, I’m not going
to sacrifice myself so he can live.
“I didn’t kill your father,” I say to him, my grip tight on the gun as I
stare him down.
“But you brought your pet assassin to the party,” Silvano answers with a
steely voice. “You’ve been trying to undermine my position in the
organization for months.”
I don’t know where he got that idea, and it surprises me enough to
where I don’t know what to say for a moment. “How have I done that?” I
ask, trying to keep my voice reasonable, friendly—trying not to give him or
Enzo a reason to shoot.
“You think I don’t know my father liked you more than me?” Silvano
asks. His lips curl into a sneer. “What did he say about me? That I was too
weak to take over? That I couldn’t handle it? That I wasn’t manly enough?”
There’s no sense in lying, not right now, not when the stakes are so
high. “I knew, but I didn’t give him any reasons to double down on those
ideas. I spoke highly of you. I pointed out your successes. You have no
reason to believe me, of course, but the only promotion I’ve been angling
for is to be your second-in-command.”
“So you thought to hurry that along by murdering him?” Silvano’s hand
shakes, and it’s surprising to realize that he’s actually upset about the death.
Even though he didn’t always get along with Don Cresci, they were still
father and son.
I had only wished to have a father like Don Cresci growing up.
“Why would I need to murder him? Think, Silvano,” I urge him. “Use
the brain I know you have. He was about to announce his retirement. What
reason would I have to kill him when he was already stepping down? I—”
A gunshot rings out, and I instinctively move to duck for cover. Fuck! I
can’t tell what happened at first, but Silvano and Enzo are both still very
much alive. It couldn’t have been Fox; he wouldn’t have missed.
Unless…
I glance behind me, just in time to watch a man fall over the side of the
container and land in a bloody heap.
Well, if I’d had any doubts that this was a trap, they’re gone now. Fox
had probably seen the man getting into position to shoot me while I’d been
distracted talking to Silvano and Enzo.
“What the fuck?” I ask, angry and hurt, which makes no sense. I’m a
grown man, not a child.
Yet there it is, strong and thrumming in my chest all the same.
Before I can get anything else out, though, Enzo lifts his gun to aim at
me, and I barely manage to dodge out of the way before the bullet hits the
concrete behind where I’d been standing. Fuck. Even if I’ve convinced
Silvano, it doesn’t matter to Enzo, who presses me even as I hunt for cover.
 The only saving grace is that only one of them is trying to shoot me.
But Silvano doesn’t stop Enzo, either.
Another bullet narrowly misses me, and I know I’m not going to get out
of this by staying on the defensive. I aim my gun at him and take a shot. I
miss, the bullet going past Enzo’s torso and embedding itself in the
container behind him.
It does distract him, though, and that gives me the opportunity to close
the distance between us. Guns are less useful in close quarters—a fact that
Enzo knows too. He dodges my blow and tries to aim anyway, but I bring
my fist down hard on his arm, diverting his aim. He manages to keep his
grip on the gun, but I keep going anyway, kneeing him in the gut.
“Just give up,” I say, pulling the gun out of his hand. “We’re on the
same side.”
“You fucking offed the boss.” Enzo wheezes… but he catches his breath
faster than I expected, and he tackles me to the ground.
It knocks the wind out of my lungs, and we grapple as I try to get the
words out, “I didn’t fucking kill him! Jesus, Silvano, tell him!”
“You were the only one with the opportunity,” Silvano says, but he
sounds less sure of himself. “And you’ve got the motive, and…”
Jesus Christ, this is getting old.
I manage to get the upper hand on Enzo, and even though I don’t
actually want to hurt him while he’s doing his fucking job, I’m not going to
die for it. I slam the back of his head into the ground.
I don’t have time for this. I can hear Fox grunting in the background, in
some sort of fight of his own, and there’s nothing I can do about it as long
as I’m down here trying to convince a grieving man I wasn’t responsible for
his father’s death.
It dazes him long enough to where I can say, “Peter ordered the fucking
hit on me. Who do you think has a motive?”
 Silvano looks down at his gun. “Peter is… overenthusiastic. He
overheard my father talking about his change in plans. He…” Silvano bites
his lip. “Even if he ordered the hit on you, that doesn’t mean he would take
out my father. It’d only cause problems for me if everybody thought I had
him assassinated.”
Enzo is still struggling beneath me, and there’s blood on the pavement
under us. “Stay fucking still,” I say as I get my gun pressed against the side
of his head. “While we hash this out like real fucking adults.”
“You fucking betrayed him.” Enzo sneers at me. “He thought of you
like a son. But you weren’t content to just be a follower.” He attempts to
elbow me, but before he can dislodge me, I pull the trigger.
I should probably feel… something about blowing out an old ally’s
brains, but all I have is a sense of annoyance because no one will fucking
listen to me.
The gunshot is loud so close to my ear, so it’s a good thing I have my
earpiece in the other to hear Fox say my name. “I’m going to send you
something. It’ll be useful,” he tells me.
I exhale loudly in relief that he’s still all right, still alive, and I release
Enzo so I can train my gun on Silvano. He doesn’t move to shoot.
“Yep. Ready now,” I tell Fox. A ping sounds from my phone—a text
message. “I’m going to take my phone out of my pocket now,” I say to
Silvano. “Fox says there’s something we need to know about.”
I hit play on the recording he sent, and Silvano and I both listen to the
echo-y gunfight. Peter sounds like he’s in extreme pain when he admits to
having sent somebody to kill Cresci. My eyes narrow when I hear him beg
Fox to take the knife away from his cock.
Effective, but I don’t want Fox touching anybody else’s cocks.
The recording ends with Peter’s gurgling death noises.
Silvano looks despondently at me. “I guess Peter was a bit more
ambitious than I thought.”
 He doesn’t actually sound surprised.
“You think?” I ask acerbically. When he doesn’t reply, I sigh, getting up
to my feet and dusting myself off. “Will you fucking listen to me now?
Because I still have my pet assassin up there and ready to take the shot if
you decide you want to keep being an imbecile.”
Silvano’s eyes flicker to the nearby empty building. “That was a pretty
good shot. Poor Carlo.” He rubs his brow. “Fuck. Cristiano, it’d be easier if
you were out of the way.”
“Thanks,” I say, my voice surprisingly brittle. “Glad you think so. But
I’ve worked too fucking hard to just disappear into the night, and I’m not
going to just lay down and die. I’m willing to work for you, Silvano, but
this bullshit…” I shake my head. “I’m warming up to the idea of killing
you, you know.”
“You’ll have ample opportunity.” Silvano approaches me, and I tense,
keeping my gun aimed on him. He ignores me and bends down to examine
Enzo. “Fucking shame. I don’t think anybody else knows our security
system as well as he did.” He shakes his head and meets my eyes. “You
know about half of the Cresci family thinks I’m a weak little fag, right?
They’ll want a macho man like you in charge.”
“All you had to do was call him off,” I tell Silvano. I’m not about to feel
guilty for Enzo’s death, not when he’d been determined to take me out,
though I do have to agree it’s going to be inconvenient to find someone who
knows security as well as Enzo did. But I see the bleakness in Silvano’s
eyes, and I sigh, finally lowering my gun. “I don’t really give a fuck what
they think, Silvano. Which is a good thing, considering they won’t see
women at my side anymore.” I manage a terse smile. “Just one highly
dangerous pet assassin who won’t hesitate to blow their kneecaps off if they
start spouting their usual homophobic bullshit.”
I hear Fox snorting. “Does that mean I should come down now? I can
still shoot him.”
 “I don’t know.” I meet Silvano’s eyes. “Should he just shoot you now?”
Silvano shrugs. “Up to you, I guess. If you want to take over, you’ll
have to kill me. I’m not giving you the organization without a fight.” Then
he sighs. “But you’d be a better underboss than Peter ever would have been.
Fucking incompetent…”
“Piece of shit,” I finish for him with a curt nod. “Yeah, Fox, you can
come down. If I’m dead when you get here, well…” I smirk at Silvano.
“You’re off your leash, and you can do whatever the fuck you want to
Silvano here.”
Silvano laughs. “You willing to share him? Because I was serious when
I had him under me. He’s very, very pretty, and his ass looked amazing all
bruised up.”
Every single word out of Silvano’s mouth has me tensing up all over
again, and any sense of fondness I might feel for him goes out the window.
“You ever touch him,” I say darkly, “I’ll cut your balls off.” I eye him.
“How did you know to call him that? Robin?”
Silvano snorts. “I knew Peter had ordered a hit on you. I figured he was
the assassin after I saw his cut-up back that time at the club. Then you
brought up Corbin and assassins… I talked to Peter, who was very happy to
brag about how he was going to clear the way for my rise to power. He
mentioned hiring a ‘robin’ for the job. What an uninspired code name.”
Then he shakes his head. “Not that ‘fox’ is much better.”
“So let me get this straight,” I say, far from amused. “You knew Peter
was trying to clear a path for you to gain power, and you never once
thought for a moment that he was the problem?”
Silvano gives me a look. “What? No shit, Peter was up to something.
But I just told you, it’d be a lot more convenient for me if you were out of
the picture. I’d have dealt with Peter later. Especially since he had my father
murdered.” He folds his arms over himself. “If you’d died at the party, I
could have said it was a tragic misunderstanding, blamed Peter for it, and
then murdered him for the betrayal. No hard feelings.”
“Good to know I’m that expendable.” I feel so bitter about the whole
thing, but what else am I going to do? I could shoot Silvano here and now,
end him before he can cause trouble for me down the line, but… It would
cause even more problems. There’s no good solution. “Silvano… If it
wasn’t for how much I respected your father, I would kill you right now.
You understand that, right?”
“I could have murdered you at any point during your fight with Enzo,”
Silvano points out. “But look, there’s your boy.”
I look over my shoulder, where Fox is approaching, gun at the ready.
“Fuck you, Silvano,” Fox says. “Just so you know, if you ever try to
touch me again, I’m breaking all your fingers before I cut off your dick.”
I hum briefly. “I told him I’d cut off his balls. I think I like your idea
better.”
“Jesus Christ, how does anybody think you’re straight?” Silvano pulls
out his phone and starts tapping on it. “So, are you going to keep working
for me? Or should I start searching for a new underboss? And consigliere. I
was thinking Loretti for that role, by the way.”
I start to make a smart-ass retort, but I end up sighing. “Yeah. Loretti
would be good for a consigliere. He’s smart, he’s got good connections, and
he can be your token straight man in power.”
Silvano laughs about that. “Sure. Fuck, he’s obnoxious when he talks
about his wife, isn’t he?”
I wrap my arm around Fox. “I don’t have the urge to call Fox my honey
bunny boo boo bear, at least.”
Fox leans into me, but his hand is still tense on his gun. “So… no more
shooting? It feels like we should shoot him at least a little.”
I eye Silvano, and for a moment, I seriously consider letting Fox shoot
him somewhere—the leg, maybe or the foot. Just to remind him that I’m
fucking serious about not letting him take me out without a fight. But that
wouldn’t be the best way to start our working relationship, and instead, I
shake my head. “No more shooting. Let’s get clean-up on this and get the
fuck out of here before cops show up.”
“Yeah. You can call them. Since you’re the underboss now.” Silvano
pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, I need a smoke. I shouldn’t have quit.
I guess a drink will have to do.” He eyes us and shakes his head. “I’d invite
you to join me, but I think you’ve got other plans.”
Fox wraps his arms around my waist. “He does. And you’re definitely
not invited to those.”
I kiss the top of Fox’s head, trying to let go of some of my barely
banked anger. Just the idea of Silvano touching Fox… I pull out my phone
and send a quick text to the person who handles our clean-up with the
address, nothing more. There. That’s been taken care of.
“Come, little fox,” I tell Fox. “Let’s see just how much pain you can
take.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
 FOX

“I f you ever change your mind about Silvano, just say the word,” I say,
wrapping my arms around Cristiano from behind while he unlocks the door
to his condo.
“If he ever hits on you again, shoot him in the leg,” Cristiano suggests,
leading me inside. “And if you ever hit on him again, I’ll find out about it
and punish you instead—and it won’t be anything as kind as a fucking
gunshot wound.”
“My innocent ears,” Briar drawls from inside the living room. “How am
I supposed to survive listening to this? Next thing I know, you’ll be talking
about sex.”
“Innocent ears?” Cristiano replies with a snort. “Nothing about you is
innocent. What are you doing here?”
Briar gives him a dubious look. “My job…?”
“Oh, hi, Briar,” I say sweetly. “Thanks for letting me borrow your suit.
I’m sure the blood stains haven’t completely set in yet.”
“The what on my what?” Briar asks, looking at first dismayed then
positively murderous. “Who told you you could borrow any of my
clothing? And ruin it! You’d better buy me a replacement, and I hope you
have money, because all of my suits cost more than a small village!”
 “Money?” I look up at Cristiano and bat my eyelashes. “Daddy…? I
think I need to borrow some cash.”
“I hope he takes it out of your hide,” Briar mutters, then adds
acerbically, “Never mind. I hope he doesn’t. That would serve you right.”
But they eye Cristiano, looking him critically up and down. Do you need a
doctor?”
When Briar speaks to Cristiano, there’s affection in their voice, and I
bristle at it a little.
I wrap my arms tighter around Cristiano and glare at Briar. “Nope,
we’re perfectly fine. I took good care of him.”
Briar smirks back at me. “Oh, I’m sure you tried, baby boy.”
The condescension in their tone has me wanting to pull a knife on them.
“I’m not going to sympathize with you when Fox shoots you,” Cristiano
remarks almost mildly, though there’s a slight edge to his own voice.
“Because only I get to call him anything even remotely close to baby boy.”
Briar must sense the danger there because they back off, raising both
hands and even taking a step back. “Sorry, sorry. Someone’s touchy today.”
“Yes, well, almost getting assassinated twice and being set up for
murder tends to do that to a person,” Cristiano says.
I bite back the guilt I feel about being one of those attempted
assassinations. I didn’t know Cristiano yet, I remind myself. He was just a
job.
There are no more jobs like that on my horizon.
“Are you actually intending on sticking around to listen to us fuck?” I
ask Briar, trying to keep a grin on my face. “I’m not that into exhibitionism,
but if Daddy is…”
Briar shudders. “Hard pass,” they say. “I’ll come back tomorrow to
finish cleaning up.” They flounce toward the door, bumping my shoulder
hard with theirs on the way to the door. “Be good, you two. Or not.”
 “Out, Briar,” Cristiano says firmly, even though he cracks a smile at
Briar.
I wait until Briar has left before I walk around to Cristiano’s front and
place my arms on his shoulders. “When I move in, Briar has to move out,” I
tell him seriously.
Cristiano eyes me for a moment. “Are you jealous?” he asks, smirking
at me as he touches my face.
“You’re mine, Daddy,” I tell him earnestly. “And I’ll keep a special
pistol just to shoot anyone who dares touch you.”
Cristiano chuckles then kisses me hard on the mouth. “I’ll tell them to
get their stuff out, but then what will you borrow in your times of need?”
I moan into the kiss, and sigh in disappointment when he pulls away.
“Borrow? Daddy, you’re going to buy me a whole new wardrobe!”
“Mm, I am, and I’m going to pick every single article of clothing for
you to wear.” His smile turns wicked. “Every. Single. Piece.”
I shiver, already imagining him dressing me to his tastes. That sounds
very, very good. “I think you should whip me, Daddy,” I mumble, mouthing
along his neck. His beard scratches against my skin. “And mark me all
over.”
“I think I should too,” he murmurs back, running his fingers through my
hair. “I think I should tattoo my name into your flesh—or maybe carve it in
myself. What do you think about that, little fox?”
I groan loudly and grind my cock against his thigh. “Yes, please.”
Marked forever, so he can’t ever throw me away—so I’ll always have a
reminder that he doesn’t think I’m lesser, undesired, the second choice.
“Mm, I thought you might like that idea.” He pulls me closer by the
hair, his fingers tightening in the strands. “I do too. Then you can never,
ever even think about leaving me. You’ll always see the reminder that I own
you.”
 I nod quickly. “Yes, please. I want that. I…” I rest my head against his
shoulder and hide my face from him. My throat goes dry when I think about
all the things I want to say, all the feelings I have whenever I’m near him.
“I…” Fuck. I can’t get the words out. “Thank you,” I say instead.
Cristiano doesn’t relax his grip, keeping me there against his shoulder.
“You don’t have to thank me. If anything, you should be begging me to let
you go before it’s too late.” He lets out a laugh as his arm comes around my
waist, keeping me locked in place next to him. “Never mind. It’s already
too late.”
He’s the only person who ever wanted to keep me, though. Not that I
was looking, but none of the men I’ve fucked ever wanted more than a
single night. None of them ever treated me like Cristiano treats me.
“So, are we actually going to fuck, or are we just going to stand around
like idiots?” I ask with a nervous laugh.
“Mm,” he says noncommittally. “I’m enjoying holding you. It’s not
always about the fucking, Fox.” He pulls my head back, though, and looks
at me. “But I do think we both deserve a nice fuck after today. Don’t you?”
“Yes. Please. I didn’t even shoot Silvano, even though I really, really
wanted to.” I grin up at him, even though his intense gaze makes me want
to hide again. I know I’m not actually shy, but something about how he’s
looking at me is making me flush.
“You shot the man who was going to shoot me, you didn’t shoot
Silvano, you got evidence of Peter’s betrayal for me to use to anyone who
tries to blame me,” Cristiano muses. “I think you deserve to be tied to the
bed and whipped, yes.”
The anticipation of that delicious pain has me shivering and my cock
twitching. “Please,” I repeat, finally stepping back enough so that we might
be able to get to the bedroom. I hold his hand the entire way there, though,
and it’s strange that such a simple gesture feels more intimate than all the
sex we’ve already had.
 He squeezes my hand when we get there, only to say, “Get on the bed,
Fox. Face down, ass up. As much as I want to see your face, I want to take
care of your other needs first.”
“Should I take all my clothes off first?” I ask cheekily, my hands
already on my shirt.
“Unless you want them ripped or cut off…” He trails off, his voice
going rough. “You don’t need those clothes anyway, do you? You don’t
need clothes at all unless I give them to you.”
“I might need clothes sometimes,” I say as I strip. “Unless you want me
to shoot people while I’m naked. I’d be giving everybody quite the show.
I’d probably stand out more if I was preparing to take somebody out while
naked. ‘Officer, it was a nude redhead! It was definitely his natural hair
color!’”
Cristiano growls. “No one gets to see you naked except me. No one. I’ll
gouge their eyes out if they ever even think about looking at you. You
understand me, Fox? I don’t think you get just how deeply you belong to
me yet.”
I laugh and flop onto the bed, fully naked. “Yeah? Well, you might need
to remind me. Tie me up, make sure I can’t go wandering off and giving
anybody else wank fodder.”
He’s on me more quickly than I’d have thought, grabbing one of my
wrists and binding it to the bed with straps that were already there. “I’ll
keep you tied up,” he says. “I’ll chain you to my bed so no one else ever
sees you again. You think I’m lying, Fox? You want to keep taunting me?”
Yes, I definitely do. I want to see him lose control and really show me
the depths of his feelings. I want to hurt all over and know that every one of
those bruises is his. “Daddy, please,” I groan, lifting my ass up and
wiggling it for him.
He circles around the bed, grabbing my other wrist hard enough to
bruise and securing that as well. “I’m going to bind your legs, too. Not
because I have to—because I know you’re my good boy and you’ll take
whatever I give you—but because I want to.”
Good boy.
I grit my teeth and try to ignore it. “I’ll take whatever you give,” I
agree, although I’m not as relaxed as I was before.
It’s fucking stupid. I know they’re just words. But every time I hear
them, I have Corbin in my ears, telling me how bad I am, how worthless,
how trash, that I’m the reject.
“I know you will,” Cristiano says. “You’ll take any and everything,
even if you hate it. Just like you hate me calling you ‘good boy,’ but you’re
going to take it anyway because you are. You’re perfect, and you’re going
to deal with me telling you that in between every lash of the whip.” He
grabs my ankle and secures that to the bed too.
“Wait,” I protest, pulling at the restraints. My breathing gets faster. “You
said you were going to whip me. Just that. It was a good day. We don’t have
to ruin it.”
He gets my other ankle tied down before I can kick at him. “I’m not
ruining it,” he says calmly. “I’m going to whip you, and I’m going to get
you to tell me you’re my good boy, because you need to say it. You need to
believe it. Do you understand me?”
“No,” I answer mulishly, shaking my head. I’m suddenly extra glad that
he has me face down on the bed. “We don’t need to bother with that bit. Just
be aggressive the way I know you can be. We’ll both enjoy that.”
“I am being aggressive,” Cristiano says, coming around so he can kiss
the top of my head. “I’m being cruel, just not in the way you want. I want
my boy to know he’s safe, and valued, and good. For me, and for no one
else.”
My chest tightens and I pull my limbs as close to myself as I can—
which isn’t very, because he didn’t give me any slack with the chains.
 I hate how just those few words are threatening to make me cry. I don’t
want to cry. I’m not a fucking weakling, and I don’t need kind words.
“Being nice isn’t being cruel,” I complain, although my voice wobbles.
“And you’re so full of shit. I’m not… I’m not good.”
“Isn’t it? You’re close to tears because I’m being nice. It’s cruelty all the
same, isn’t it? You get off on me being mean to you. You think you’re
worthless, but you aren’t, and I’m damn sure never going to let you think
you are again. Even if that means pushing you as far as you can go,”
Cristiano tells me.
“Please just hit me,” I beg. I should have realized he’d want to do
something like this. I thought he wasn’t going to anymore. He held off on
saying these awful words the last few times we’d fucked. I squeeze my eyes
shut and try not to think about how my stomach is fluttering.
Cristiano obliges me, and his hand comes down hard on my ass. “There.
I hit you. Does that hurt more or less than me calling you a good boy, my
Fox?”
The pain is good, spreading out across my ass and distracting me from
everything else. I want to ignore his question, but… “Less, Daddy,” I admit,
biting my lip.
“Do you see now? I’m teaching you to withstand pain—pain from a
loved one, because that’s what you are to me. I don’t know how you’ve
managed to get inside this heart of mine, but…” Cristiano sighs, then
spanks my other ass cheek, even harder.
How I’ve managed? That’s my line. How the fuck did Cristiano get me
to care about him, when I’ve lived my entire life not caring about anyone,
not even myself?
I raise my ass for more pain, which is still preferable to the words that
are making my thoughts jumble and my heart tighten.
“Tell me, Fox,” he says. “Tell me you’re mine.”
 “I’m yours, Daddy,” I agree. I’ve never belonged to anyone more than
I’ve belonged to him.
“Now tell me you’re Daddy’s good boy,” he commands, emphasizing
the words with another slap to my ass.
Fuck. I don’t want to. I shake my head and bite my lip. “Please don’t
make me, Daddy,” I say hoarsely. “I… I can’t.”
“You can,” he says, his voice steely. “You can, and you will. Say the
words, Fox. Tell me you’ll do anything your daddy wants you to do. Tell
me you’re Daddy’s good boy.” No smack to my ass this time, just that grim
order in his tone.
I sob, wishing he’d just give me the pain that I crave. “You’ll hit me if I
do?” I ask—beg.
“I’ll whip you, my little fox,” Cristiano says. “I’ll give you so much.
But you have to say those words.”
The promise of those lashes is enticing, but it still takes me another few
breaths before I can whisper those awful words. “I’m… I’m… I’m Daddy’s
good boy. I’m… your good boy.”
Fuck. I start sniffling, and my eyes blur. Why does it hurt so much to
say it? I know it’s all lies.
But what if he actually believes it?
“You are,” Cristiano says, his voice quiet. “You are Daddy’s good boy.
And you’re going to take your whipping like a good boy, too.” He retreats,
and he rustles through an armoire. I crane my neck to see what he’s holding,
and it’s a well-worn looking flogger. “Is this what you want, Fox?”
I nod quickly, and sag into my bonds in relief. Pain will take it all away.
All I’ll have to do is feel.
The first lash is light, controlled, and he murmurs, “Tell me again, Fox.
You know what I want to hear. So tell me.”
Fuck. That light strike isn’t enough. I want to protest, to shake my head,
but I need the pain so much. “I’m… your good boy,” I mumble hurriedly,
blinking hard to stave off the tears.
“Yes, you are,” he says again, then the flogger comes down again, its
tails spreading across my ass cheeks. This time it’s harder, and I hope he
continues, but he pauses again. “Tell me,” he orders. “After every strike, tell
me you’re my good boy.”
I don’t want to. I just want to take the pain, and I almost resent him for
insisting on this. We could both simply be getting off without any of this.
Cristiano reaches out to touch the small of my back. “It gets me so hard,
hearing you say those words. Knowing how difficult they are for you, but
you’re doing it for Daddy. You want to please me, don’t you?”
I sob and nod. Yes, I want him to be happy. Yes, I want to give him
everything. He saved me, and all he wants in return are some stupid words.
I can give him this.
I can surrender to him.
“I’m… I’m your good boy.” My voice cracks in the middle, but
Cristiano hums in approval and steps back to lash me again.
“One day you’ll believe those words,” Cristiano says. “One day you’ll
know that even if you don’t think you’re anyone else’s good boy, you’re
still my good boy.”
He brings the flogger down on my ass again, hard enough that the pain
is sharp. Warmth floods through me, and my cock twitches in arousal.
“I’m your good boy,” I say quickly, just to get the next lash as soon as
possible.
“So good,” he agrees, and this time he lashes me twice in quick
succession. “You’re doing so well.”
We keep going like that until I’ve descended into such a haze that it
doesn’t even hurt to say the words. They’re just words, but somehow…
they’re more than that. I take each lash with a moan, my cock going from
soft to hard as he continues.
 I raise up my ass for more pain, automatically saying “I’m your good
boy” even before the flogger hits me. I’m crying, but it doesn’t bother me
like it normally would. I’m simply doing what he wants.
Daddy wants my tears, he wants my pain, he wants his good boy.
It seems like an eternity before he stops—an eternity, yet far too soon—
and undoes the bonds holding me to the bed. He comes to me and pulls me
into his arms, and I’m not sure when he undressed. But he’s naked and hard,
his cock pressing against me as he tugs me to him until we’re face to face.
“You were so good,” he murmurs. “What do you want as your reward?”
I wrap my arms around his chest and sob openly against his shoulder.
Did he ask me a question? My mind is too fuzzy, and all I want is to be
close to Daddy and feel him.
I’m safe with him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
 CRISTIANO

I stroke Fox’s hair as he cries, aware that I’ve pushed him to his limit—
maybe a little beyond it. I can’t be sure. But I want to hear him say those
words and believe them, and maybe it’s a case of ‘fake it ‘til you make it.’ I
don’t know. I just know that hearing him call himself Daddy’s good boy
gets me hard, and seeing him cry had me pulsing with need.
It still does.
I sit up, pulling him into my lap.
I want to fuck him, but I’m not feeling patient enough to stretch and
lube him up. I think he’s so lost in subspace that he’d want me to fuck him
despite the lack of prep, and while I should be the voice of reason… There
is no voice of reason inside of me when it comes to Fox.
He didn’t tell me what reward he wanted, but I forgive him for it
because I know how he must be feeling right now—flying through the stars,
loving every second of the bliss he has to be feeling.
“Ride me,” I tell him quietly. “I need to be inside of you, my good,
precious Fox.”
Fox lets out a long sob, but he nods too, and lifts his hips up. His
erection slides against my stomach. It would be easier to line up if he
stopped clinging to me, but there’s no way I’m going to tell him to do that.
 I want him close, as close as he can be, and I’m not about to disappoint
either of us. I use one hand to guide him onto my cock, pressing in slowly.
It would be better with prep and more lube, but I just can’t bring myself to
stop. I need this, need him, this obedient boy who would say anything for
me, do anything for me, even if it hurts.
Maybe especially if it hurts.
Fox moans loudly and brings his hips down. If my hand weren’t in the
way, I’m sure he would have lowered himself all the way, regardless of his
own comfort. I stroke his back gently and kiss the side of his head, urging
him to slow down even though all I want is to shove him down and take
him hard.
But it wouldn’t fit the moment. As much as he wants the pain, I want
this to be special, too. It feels like nothing I’ve had since…
My heart aches, but for the first time in a long time, I feel freer. Max
would’ve approved of this, I think, even if he might not have understood it.
Fox’s thighs quiver from the strain as he slowly lowers himself, guided
by my hand, until he’s fully seated. He’s still crying, still clinging to me.
My heart thuds faster, and I have to admit I love being this source of
comfort for him even though I’m the reason he’s crying.
I grip his ass and press into the flogger welts, and Fox’s breath hitches
with a moan.
“I’m… your good boy…” he slurs.
I hum in pleasure, pressing harder into those bruises, feeling the heated
skin and knowing I’m the cause of it all. For as long as he’s mine, he’s
going to be marked—bruises, cuts, tattoos… I don’t even know yet. But
he’s going to be aware every second of every day that he belongs to me.
“Yes, you are,” I say quietly. I want to stay just like this, but I know we
both need release—in more ways than one. I grip his ass and guide him to
lift up. “Fuck yourself on me, pretty fox,” I murmur. “Be a good boy and
show Daddy how much you need him.”
 Fox groans loudly, but he obeys, shakily lowering himself and rising up
again.
I continue to press his bruises, and I can feel his cock smearing precum
all over my stomach.
He still hasn’t looked at me, though, keeping his head buried against my
shoulder.
I stroke his hair for a moment, not wanting to shake him out of his daze.
I want him to stay this way, lost in this space where everything is perfect
and there are no thoughts other than pleasure. He deserves it, maybe more
than anyone I’ve ever been with.
He deserves to be cared for.
He deserves to be loved.
“Fox,” I whisper, holding him so he can’t keep moving. “Look at me.
Kiss me.”
And my beautiful boy, who’s been hiding all this time, lifts his head up.
His face is blotchy, his cheeks are wet with tears, and his eyes are as red as
his beautiful hair, but he looks at me without a second thought and leans in
to kiss me.
The kiss starts out soft, sweet, but I can’t keep it that way. I’m too
needy, too demanding, and I want his lips to be as bruised and swollen as
his ass is. I press the kiss, press him, and my fingers tighten in his red, red
hair. It goes perfectly with the rest of the red on his skin right now,
something I can’t help but admire when I pull away slightly to gaze at him.
“Keep fucking me,” I urge him when he slows, distracted by the kiss.
“Don’t stop. You’re going to make Daddy come. Don’t you want that? Then
Daddy can make his boy come, and we can lie here in pleasure and think of
nothing but each other.”
“Y-yeah,” Fox says, although I’m not sure he realizes what he’s
agreeing to. Either way, he starts moving again, and his ass tightens around
me when I squeeze his cheeks. The pleasure is threatening to overwhelm
me, but I don’t want this moment to end.
“My perfect boy,” I say, kissing him again.
Fox sobs into the kiss, opening up for me once more.
We go on like that, time passing in slow motion, until finally I can hold
back no longer. I groan and clutch his bruised ass even more tightly before
spilling into him, shuddering with sheer ecstasy as I take my boy—my good
boy, who’s obedient for me alone, who’s only perfect for me.
“Come for me,” I rasp against his lips, slowly stroking his cock—and
scratching the sensitive head.
Fox howls and comes all over my hand, his back arching. His exposed
neck is too tempting, and I nip at it while he orgasms.
When he’s done, he slumps forward and brings his arms up around me
again, clinging even more tightly than before.
I hold him just as firmly, keeping him grounded in my arms. I nuzzle
him, resisting the urge to bite him again, if only barely. “Let’s lie down,” I
tell him in a murmur. I should get up, clean us both up, but the way he’s
holding me… I don’t want to make him release me. Hell, I don’t want to
release him.
I maneuver us until I’m lying on the bed with Fox on top of me, my
softening cock slowly sliding out of him. Fox whimpers and tightens his
hole like he wants to keep me inside him.
“I know,” I whisper. “I know, Fox. I want to be inside you always.
Just… give me a few minutes.” I let out a laugh. I’m not as young as I used
to be, that’s for sure. But I wish I could give him that.
I keep stroking his head, and despite Fox’s efforts, my cock does slip
out. I can feel some of my cum dribble out of him, too, but I definitely don’t
have the energy to clean us up. I just want to lie here with my boy.
I’m starting to drift when I feel Fox bite my collar. I blink, my hand
going to his hair to pull him back. I’m a bit dazed, half-conscious, and it
takes me several seconds to get out, “Fox?”
He glares at me with his reddened eyes. “Are you going to make me cry
every time?” he asks with a huff.
“Maybe,” I tell him, releasing my tight hold on his hair so I can simply
stroke it. “I love your tears. I love hearing you say how good you are for me
—only me, not anyone else.”
Fox groans and rests his head on my shoulder again. “Nobody else
would think I was good, anyway. Not after…” His nails dig into my chest.
“Fuck, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You might feel better if you do,” I say, letting him hurt me, just a little,
in exchange for hurting him so badly only moments before.
“It’s fucking stupid. I was just a kid. But I was supposed to hide. If I’d
been… if I’d done what my brother had asked. Even Corbin kept saying it.
If I’d been… good,” and he sneers at that word, “…maybe he wouldn’t
have found me at all.”
“Don’t you think that even if you’d hidden, he’d have found you?” I ask
quietly, stroking his back. “He knew about your brother. He knew about
your whole family. He knew you existed, Fox. He wouldn’t have left you
alone, no matter what you did. Corbin was just fucking with your head by
trying to get you to believe you messed up.”
“Well, it worked. I’m fucking messed up.” He lifts his head to glare at
me again. “If you try to make me go to therapy, I will shoot the therapist.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “No therapy,” I promise, only to pause and
smirk at him. “Well. Is what we do in bed therapy? Sex therapy? Because
you can’t shoot this therapist. You’d miss my cock too much.”
“I think they’d revoke your license for sleeping with your patient,” Fox
answers, and his lips quirk into a beautiful smile. “Also, your cock is nice,
but I’m sure I can find others to fill my hole. Bigger ones, too.”
I turn us over so I’m pinning him down. I kiss him hard on the lips.
“There’s no replacement for me and this dick, and if you try to find one, I
guess I’ll be the one doing the shooting. You understand, Fox? I keep telling
you, and I’ll keep telling you until you finally fucking listen: you’re mine.”
Fox wraps his arms around my shoulders and smiles. “Sure. But I might
need to see a few dead bodies. To know you’re serious. Hmm… maybe I
should go fuck Briar…”
I grab him by the throat and squeeze. “Briar knows better than to fuck
you, you little brat. They know I’d kill them. And I really don’t feel like
replacing Silvano in the organization, so don’t get any ideas about him,
either.”
Fox tilts his head back and moans, not at all put out by my hand on his
throat. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Daddy. I don’t think you’re
up for a round two yet.”
“I can think of other things to do besides fucking you—and if you keep
being a brat, they won’t be nearly as much fun as getting flogged,” I tell
him.
“What’re you gonna do, make me cry all over again?” Fox taunts,
sticking his tongue out at me. I pinch his side, and Fox laughs, leaning up to
nip at my shoulder.
“Just wait,” I tell him. “I can be very, very creative when I need to be,
and you won’t enjoy it if I have to get mean.” I smirk at him. “It won’t be
painful at all, either.”
Fox pouts at me. “Boo. It’s no fun if it doesn’t hurt.” As if to highlight
his point, he rakes his nails down my back.
“That’s why it’d be a punishment,” I say dryly. I grab his wrist and
force it down onto the bed. Just for good measure, I grab the other as well,
forcing him down and kissing him deep. “Now hush. I was almost asleep.”
“You didn’t even wipe me down. What kind of a Daddy are you?” Fox
complains, but his tone is light and as soon as I lie down, he’s snuggling up
against me, curling some of my chest hairs around his fingers. “It goes both
ways, you know. If you… if you betray me, in any way. You saw how good
of a shot I am.”
“Just promise me you’ll talk to me before you shoot. I don’t want any of
that miscommunication bullshit. Unless my lips are wrapped around
someone’s cock or I’m buried in their ass, don’t get any ideas,” I warn him.
“Fine, fine, I won’t shoot Briar.” Fox kisses my chest. “Better figure out
what our matching tattoos will be. That way if anybody even looks at you, I
can point to the label and tell them you belong to me.”
I laugh, but I’m starting to drift to sleep. “Mhm. Matching tattoos. And
you’ll get piercings wherever I tell you to.” I yawn.
“Sounds good,” Fox mumbles. “You’d better tug on the piercings too.
Maybe with little chains…”
I nod along with it, smiling.
Yes, I’ll mark him up and make sure everybody—especially Fox—
knows who he belongs to.
EPILOGUE
 FOX

I have my rifle aimed at the target, who is standing far too close to
Cristiano for my comfort. He’s some bigshot cartel contact who screwed us
over on payment last time but doesn’t realize we found out about his deceit.
“Just get out of the way, Daddy,” I mumble. I know he can hear me, but
Cristiano keeps talking amiably with the cartel guy.
The warehouse location makes me a bit twitchy too. I keep expecting
another explosion to hit me, even though we did a very thorough sweep
before we set up here.
I want to reach up to my neck and rub at the metal of my collar, but I’m
still a professional. The moment I take my finger off the trigger, I’m sure
the target will move.
Cristiano finally takes a step back, a smile still on his lips that I know
his target believes is genuine—and hell, knowing Cristiano, it might well
be. He makes a subtle hand signal next to his side, letting me know I’m
good to shoot, and makes as though to stroll away from the target before he
has the chance to move as well.
I pull the trigger, and just as the target gives his smarmy grin, the bullet
goes right through his forehead.
The blood splatters everywhere. I don’t slow down, though, realigning
my rifle and taking out one of the target’s cronies before he has a chance to
retaliate.
I move on to shoot the third guy, only he’s already dead on the floor.
I redirect my scope toward Cristiano, and I see he’s got his gun out.
“Good work,” Cristiano says. “That’s all of them.” He shakes his head.
“All of this because they wouldn’t pay their fucking bill.” He nudges the
closest body to him with his foot. “They had the money, too. Silvano’s tech
guy said we aren’t the only ones they’ve tried to screw lately.”
“You know I don’t care,” I say as I pack up my stuff. “Just tell me who
to shoot, and I’ll shoot.”
He could tell me to shoot into a crowded street in the middle of the day,
and I would.
I hoist up my equipment, rub my fingers along my collar, and make my
way to Cristiano’s side.
“That’s why it’s good I have a collar on you,” Cristiano says smugly.
“And a leash, invisible or otherwise.”
The rest of our guys make themselves scarce as soon as I join Cristiano.
We aren’t exactly open, but we’re not subtle either. I sure don’t give a fuck
what they think about me, but Cristiano and Silvano agreed to keep a thin
veneer of plausible deniability so the poor gang members don’t get too
tangled up in their homophobia.
Once we’re reasonably alone, I wrap my arms around Cristiano’s neck
and smile up at him. “Leash? I don’t feel a leash, Daddy.”
“You don’t?” Cristiano quirks a brow and gazes down at me, his eyes
dark with desire and need that matches my own. He grabs me by the back
of the neck and holds me there while he kisses me, forcing his tongue past
my lips. “Do you feel it now?”
I groan and lean into the kiss. “I’m not sure… you might have to show
me again.”
“Hmm. I think I can make it easier to remember,” he says against my
mouth. His hand comes around the front of my throat this time, and he
squeezes in just the right places to deny me breath.
I open my mouth for air, but nothing comes, and it’s exhilarating. My
life is in his hands—but I know I can trust him. I know he’d never hurt me.
I know he wants me.
I know he would never throw me away.
After a few blissful seconds, he releases, and I gasp, clinging even
tighter to him. My cock attempts to harden in my jeans, but the cock cage
denies me.
“Mm. Daddy, be careful, or we’ll give everybody here an X-rated
show,” I say as I mouth along his wrist.
“It’s already X-rated,” he murmurs to me, gripping my throat again.
“Look at all the blood on the floor. Would it be more X-rated if we fucked?”
“We could bump it up to triple-X.” I push my throat against his hand
just to get more of that delicious constriction.
“As soon as we get home,” Cristiano says. He flexes his fingers but
doesn’t put any additional pressure on my throat. “Maybe I’ll choke you
until you pass out today. Then I can take your ass while you’re… resting
and leave you with a nice surprise when you wake up.”
Fuck, that sounds amazing. Knowing that I’d made him happy, having
the bruises all over me, feeling his cum dripping out of me…
“Yes, Daddy,” I murmur. “Please hurt me.”
“Say the words, and I’ll do it,” he tells me, just as he releases his grasp
on my neck. His eyes are intent on mine, though, feeling like they can see
through me.
I bite my lip and pretend I’m recovering from the choking. I just need a
moment to gather the courage to say those fucking awful words he keeps
making me repeat.
The awful words which don’t sound so terrible anymore, which make
me feel warm and…
…and loved.
 “I’m your good boy,” I whisper, feeling my face grow warm.
“That’s right,” Cristiano says, kissing me again and biting my bottom
lip hard. “You are. Don’t ever fucking forget it, because I sure as hell
won’t.” He draws away after a moment, rubbing at the newly-bruising
marks on my throat.
No, I couldn’t possibly forget. I smile at him, despite my
embarrassment, and lean my head against his shoulder.
I’m his good boy.
But he’s mine, too, and I won’t ever let him forget that either.
Problems - Brea Alepou & Skyler Snow
Lethal - Joe Satoria
Lawless - A.W. Scott
Lessons - Ashlynn Mills
Tyrant - Gianni Holmes
Beast - K.L. Hiers & Mozzarus Scout
Surrender - R. Phoenix & Adara Wolf
Enemy - R.A. Frick
Obsessed - Morticia Knight
Trouble - Skyler Snow & Brea Alepoú
 AFTERWORD

Interested in chatting with the authors and getting short previews and
teasers? Join our Discord server!

Are you a fan of sneak peeks, bonus content, deleted scenes, and reading a
book as the authors write it? WELL, we have the perfect thing for you! We
took a step back from Patreon because they won’t let us write the kind of
content we love writing — boo — but as it turns out, a little bit of work on
your own website can mimic that sort of subscription service, complete
with weekly emails telling you what’s new. We have also joined Ream,
which is a Patreon alternative by authors, for authors.
You can get one chapter of our current WIP a week plus other extras as we
get them out there. You can also get early access to our Smashwords
exclusives, along with epub copies of those works, and signed paperbacks!

In addition, you can read the pre- and post-Monster’s Pet short stories and
novellas Wolf & Phoenix and Ream. (This requires the Bonus or Ultimate
tier.)

We both have things we’d love to share, so we’re excited to welcome you to
the Wolf and Phoenix! We hope you’ll join us.
 ABOUT ADARA WOLF

Adara writes almost exclusive m/m, but she has a fondness for bisexual protagonists. She enjoys a lot
of darker themes, so you'll see a lot of that in her works.
When Adara isn't writing, she's reading, painting, playing video games, and rescuing cats. She
also enjoys learning about languages and other cultures. If you're ever curious about the kink content
of her works, there are content notes for each story on the website. You can also find out more about
her works and read some freebies there. www.adarawolf.com.
 ABOUT R. PHOENIX

R. Phoenix (code name: Raissa) has an unhealthy fascination with contrasts: light and dark, humor
and pain, heroes and villains, order and chaos. She believes love can corrupt, power can redeem and
that the best of intentions can cast shadows while the worst can create light. She agrees with those
who say that the truth is best told through fiction — even though fiction has to make sense while
reality can be utterly baffling.

She loves chatting with readers, though she often awkwardly rambles. No matter how much she tries
to keep her bad and often perverted sense of humor in check, it seems to escape at the most
inconvenient moments. (Thanks, universe.) Feel free to friend Raissa on Facebook and chat or send
her an email at raissa.phoenix@gmail.com!
ALSO BY RAISSA & ADARA WOLF
M/M as Adara Wolf and R. Phoenix

The Monster’s Pet Series

The Dragon and His Prince (#1)
The Phoenix and His Prince (#2)
The Shade and His Thief (#3)

The Mages of Corentin Universe

Mind Controlling the Haughty Mage
Mind Controlling the Brute
Mind Controlling the Twins

Other Standalones
Forcibly Fucked by His Vampire Twin
M/F as Addison Wolf and Raissa Donovan

Spoils of Victory Trilogy (RH/MMMF w/MM)

Breaking Lucia (#1)
Taming Lucia (#2)
Loving Lucia (#3)
Playing With Lucia (Bonus Novella)

Breeding Contempt Trilogy (RH/MMMF w/MM)

Claiming Vanessa (#1)
Ruining Vanessa (#2)
Keeping Vanessa (#3)
 ALSO BY ADARA WOLF

Under His Heel series

Sci-fi D/s romance featuring humiliation, bondage, and many, many more kinks.
• Under His Heel
• Under His Heel: A Kidnapping
• Under His Control
• Under His Skin
• Under His… Shorts (short story collection set in the Under His Heel universe)
Leashing His Heart
Spin-off featuring Tracht’s nephew Johan and the bondservant forced on him. Petplay, praise kink,
dubcon, some unhealthy relationships. Coming in 2022!
Standalones
• Flesh & Blood (Monster-on-a-leash, enemies-to-lovers, extreme gore/violence)
• Bruising Love (yakuza, extreme masochism, promiscuity)
• False Feathers (Dark fairy tale, humiliation, bondage)
• Blue Storm (M/M/m, fantasy, slavery)
• Binding Breath (Historical, urban fantasy, mafia, mind control)
• Hunger and Other Tales of Erotic Horror (anthology of erotic short stories)
Saga of the City by the Flowers
A Mesoamerican-inspired fantasy series, following different men who are trying survive in a world
that seems to have it out for them. The gods tend to meddle in the affairs of mortals, and that’s not
always good for the humans…
• In Life, In Death
• A Coward, A Warrior
• In Pain, In Pleasure
 ALSO BY R. PHOENIX

For a complete, up to date list of books by R. Phoenix (including related kinks, taboo content,
and warnings), check out her website!
 Dark and Disturbing

Gilded Cages: age play, ABDL, puppy play, Stockholm Syndrome, kidnapping, enemas,
humiliation, dubcon, noncon, and more.
Tarnished Cages: Daddy, Cammy, and Zay’s journey concludes.

The Beast’s Beauty: Stockholm Syndrome, puppy play, kidnapping, humiliation, enemas, scarred
MC. Psychological thriller.
The Beauty’s Beast: Stockholm Syndrome, kitty play, humiliation, etc. Dark romance.

Brothers Duo (Brother Dear & Brother Mine): Dark noncon twincest duo with all the kinks.

Forcibly Knotted by the Shifter: Mate: werewolf noncon, knotting, shifted sex, mpreg.

Becoming a Lady: forced feminization, light magic, low heat, high kink
 Contemporary Romance

Almost Strangers [w/MA Innes]: Sweet incest, puppy play.

It’s Just Us [w/Chris McHart]: sweet daddy kink and light age play (also available in German and
available in audio) & its sequel It’s Still Just Us [w/Chris McHart]: (also available in German.)

It’s Just You [w/Chris McHart]: Panties and lingerie. Hot tattooed muscled demisexual dude.
Sweet as sugar.

Too Close: Domestic Violence, puns, age difference. (also available in Italian and available in audio)
 Urban Fantasy & Paranormal

Undone [w/Morgan Noel]: Dark UF. Fae, incubus, nephilim, emotional abuse and manipulation,
slavery (also available in audio) & its prequel Come [w/Morgan Noel] where Leandro and Kolt first
meet.

Of All the Odds: Dark UF. Fae, Master/slave dynamics, consensual BDSM, D/s, toys, breath play,
asphyxiation, Grimm fairy tale style, non-traditional love story.

Shards of Ice: an M/M retelling of The Snow Queen fairy tale. Friends to lovers, abuse, urban
fantasy, blood play, knife play.
 The Fate of the Fallen World (19 Books)

The Fate of the Fallen Series (7 Books)

Bought (#1): Dark erotica. Witch, Werewolf, dubcon, blackmail, puppy play, slavery, psychological
manipulation
Ravel (#2): Dark romance. Werewolf, billionaire, thief, entitled male, reality check.
Recoil (#3): Dark erotic romance. Vampire, rebellion, enemies to lovers, first time, slave.
Owned (#4): Dark. Sexual violence, dubcon/blackmail, sire/childe relationship. The characters from
Bought, Ravel, and Recoil start to come together.
Temper (#5): Dark. Non-graphic gang rape, noncon. The characters from Bought, Ravel, and Recoil
continue to come together.
Refraction (#6): Dark. Culmination of books 1-5.
Sanguine (#7): Dark. Series finale.
Get the series discounted with the Fate of the Fallen Omnibus (#1-4) and the Fate of the Fallen
Omnibus (#5-7). They are also available in audio, including in box set editions!

The Need Trilogy (A Fate of the Fallen Trilogy)

Want (#1): Twincest, dubcon/noncon, drugging, age play, ABDL, humiliation, kinky, taboo
Take (#2): Twincest, dubcon, age play, ABDL, spanking, dildo pony
Have (#3): Twincest, age play, ABDL
Need (Short Story Collection): short stories about Rex and Tavi
Only available on Smashwords. Discounted: Need Trilogy Box Set (#1-3). Also available in audio.

The Tamed & Trained Trilogy (A Fate of the Fallen Trilogy)

Puppy (#1) Playful dark erotica, puppy play, dubcon, vampire, body modification, kinky
Alpha (#2) [w/M.A. Innes]: MMM, menage, puppy play, body modification, vampire, werewolf
Master (#3) [w/M.A. Innes]: MMM, puppy play, vampire, werewolf
This trilogy is also available in audio.

Standalone & Other Fate of the Fallen Books

 Prequel: Day Zero (Werewolf Kevin only wants to protect his little brother. Set the day of the
Takeover. Incest)
Prequel: Daddy (Vampire Darius wants witch Rowan to submit to him in exchange for protection for
his family. Set shortly after the Takeover. Daddy kink with no age play, spanking & discipline)
Asymmetry: Fluffy, cute, sweet, vampire and witch meeting and getting along despite the odds.
(available in audio and also available in German)
Spoiled [w/Morgan Noel] & its sequel Anticipation [w/Morgan Noel]: BDSM (heavy BDSM and
MMM in Anticipation), betrayal, hot sex (The duo is available as a box set.)
Gifts (Status Quo #1) [MF/MMF; as Raissa Donovan].
 Other Books

Henry the HuCow Trilogy

Henry the HuCow: A Gay Lactation Fantasy: Milking, body modifications, piercings, tattoos, a
touch of humiliation and plenty of moooos.
Henry the HuCow 2: Milking, body modifications, piercing, double penetration. @ Amazon &
Smashwords
Henry the HuCow 3: Milking/lactation, sounding, breeding kink (no mpreg), eating healthy, med
kink, mild watersports @ Amazon & Smashwords