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The acrid, chalky scent of burnt propellant and copper dust hits my nose, and the bitter sting of ash and sulfur coats my tongue. The metal is cold while Antonio’s cock is hot beside it, and the difference between them makes every inch of my mouth too sensitive. My jaw strains as he works the barrel in and stops just before the trigger, my mouth stretching to its absolute limits around the impossible fullness.
He leaves the gun resting heavily against my tongue and starts thrusting again, his cock sliding beside the freezing, mechanical steel. Every movement makes the gun drag against my tongue while his heat fills the remaining space, and my whole mouth begins to ache from how wide he has forced me open while my cock throbs inside my trousers.
Antonio stares down at me with unblinking eyes. “Do.” Thrust. “You.” Thrust. “Have.” Thrust. “More.” Thrust. “Questions?”
Tears stream down my cheeks as Antonio keeps moving, his grunts sending another wave of heat through me. A few seconds later, his grip tightens painfully in my hair and his body goes rigid, the first spurt of cum landing warm against my tongue. I swallow around him, taking what I can while he finishes in my mouth, my fingers still clenched against his thighs as his breathing turns heavier above me.
When he finally pulls out, some of his cum slips from the corner of my mouth and trails down my chin. Antonio removes the Beretta and watches the mess for a second before dragging the muzzle through it, gathering the white streak before he brings it back to my lips.
“Suck.”
I open my tingling mouth and close my lips around the cold metal, keeping my eyes on his as I clean it with my tongue. The green of his eyes darkens as he watches my mouth move over the pistol.
I remain on my knees, now aware of how hard my dick is.I cup myself through the fabric and squeeze, a moan slipping out of me before I can stop it. The relief is immediate but nowhere near enough.
Antonio tucks himself back into his trousers, and then looks down.The side of his boot knocks my wrist away, and a second later the sole presses against the length of my aching cock through my trousers.
“Why should I let you come, huh?”
I hiss through my teeth as the rough drag of fabric rubs against my shaft that already feels too sensitive. There is a sting beneath the pleasure, but instead of pulling away, I find myself leaning into it while Antonio watches every reaction cross my face.
“Please,” I manage to say around the weapon still resting between my lips.
Antonio moves his foot slowly along my cock, pressing down on the upward stroke, and the friction sends a shudder through me.
“Do you understand what it means to be mine?”
I nod as much as I can, and his foot begins moving faster.I have almost nothing to compare this to since my entire sexual history consists of one very sloppy blowjob with a guy I went on just one date with. So I have no idea whether Antonio Scalera working me through my clothes with the sole of his boot is supposed to feel this good.
Every pass of his foot makes my hips follow, tingles running down my spine and gathering low in my sternum, chasing the pleasure that’s already building rapidly through me. And when Antonio bears down a little harder, a broken sound gets stuck in my throat as my balls draw tight and my whole body seizes. I come hard inside my trousers, the wetness spreading through the fabric while pleasure rolls through me in trembling waves.
Antonio gives me very little time to recover. He removes his gun and hauls me upright, then immediately starts walking, dragging me after him while my legs struggle to remember how they are supposed to work. The sudden movement pulls my trousers against my still-sensitive cock, and the sudden friction makes my entire body jerk. I swear I come a little again inside my already damp pants.
Antonio says nothing as he puts my helmet over my head, and fastens it before putting on his own. The ride back passes beneath the roar of the engine, the city slowly returning around us in blurred lights while I stay pressed against Antonio’s back and turn the last half hour over in my mind again and again, but only one thought manages to remain clear.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into?
Chapter
Eleven
ANTONIO
Alexander’s location has not moved in almost half an hour. I watch the small blue marker sitting over the same block in Brooklyn while I stand near the windows of my penthouse with my phone in one hand and a glass of whiskey untouched in the other.
The city is beginning to darken beyond the glass, the last gray light caught between the buildings while traffic moves far below in thin streams of red and white, but my attention remains fixed on that single point on the map.
He is at home.
Good.
I lock the screen and look toward Davide, who has been waiting near the entrance with his jacket folded over one arm.
“Go get him.”
“Okay, boss.” He inclines his head once and starts toward the door.
Alexander hasn’t responded to any of my calls and messages since I dropped him at home yesterday. I know he can be stubborn, but he also knows what will happen to him if he continues down that road. The sight of him on his knees yesterday rises to the front of my mind, and my cock twitches, remembering the feel on his mouth before I shut the memory down.
