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“Your ass looks so pretty with my handprints, my little baker,” he croons, rubbing my stinging flesh as he kneads my cheeks, pulling them apart.
“Daddy’s gonna have so much fun, eating your greedy little hole until you cry.” His Russian accent is thick, his breaths heavy.
I feel his wet tongue taste me, licking me as his fingertips dig into my skin. With each pass of his tongue, I melt. All the walls I built up around me are crumbling so fast that I should be holding a caution sign. The obscene slurping noises he makes have me holding on to dear life. I don’t want to come yet, not until he’s inside me. He probes his tongue into my hole, and I groan, trying to muffle it in the sheets. Christ, it feelsamazing–I’m going to combust all over his king-sized bed.
“Fuck, Daddy.Please,” I beg, “I need you inside me.”
He reaches over me to grab lube out of the bedside table drawer, grinding his cock against me before flipping me over.
“I want to see your face as I wreck you,malysh,” he rasps as he drips lube onto my hole, slicking his fingers with it too. “You’re mine. I don’t care how much you deny it, or how fast this is moving. Once I’m inside you–once I claim your sweet ass, there’s no going back. You understand me?”
“Yes,” I say, desperate for more, to feel him so deep I’ll never forget it.
His eyes lock onto mine in a stern concentration. He sinks one finger inside me, then two, scissoring them to open me up. Working them inside me until he finds that spot that makes me want to scream.
“Fuck, oh my god,” I whine. “Do it again.”
“So bossy, such a slut for it. You want Daddy’s cock inside your holiday hole?” He brushes it again and my legs start to shake.
“Yes, please. Please.”
He pulls his fingers out, and the emptiness only lasts a few seconds, until I feel his cockhead at my hole. As he pushes in, the intense burn brings tears to my eyes. Inch by inch, he stretches me, until the burn turns into a mind-bending pleasure.
“That’s right,malysh, take me like a good boy. You’re doing so well,” he praises me. I crave his praise–it feels almost as good as his cock. He bottoms out. “You’re sotight.”
I pull him to me and kiss him, consuming him like a madman as I try to tell him all the things I should have said earlier. Taking over the kiss, he pulls all the way out, then slams into me. He keeps a relentless pace, fucking me slow and deep as he plunders my mouth, overwhelming me in the best way. He sits up and puts my legs over his shoulders, hitting my spot with every thrust. My eyes swim with tears. If he keeps going like this, I’ll blow.
“I want to hear you say it, little baker. Tell me who you belong to again.”
His hand wraps around my cock, and the added sensation is too much. I’m going to come soon.
“Yours. I’m yours, Daddy.”
“Come, now,” he growls.
I bust so hard that my ears ring. Hot white ropes of cum splatter on my stomach and chest. He follows me over the edge, collapsing on top of me. As we lay there, I can’t help but think to myself how right this feels.
He may be a dangerous mobster, but he makes me feel cared for, safe. I’m barely able to keep my eyes open as sleep pulls me under. Tomas pulls me into him, spooning me from behind.
“Sleep, my little baker. I have some fun planned for tomorrow.”
* * *
After breakfast, Tomas announced that he and Ani would be building a giant pillow and blanket fort in the living room. She wanted to build snowmen, but the wind is too high for playing outside. They’re sitting on the couch with their paper and pencils, drawing the plans for their dream fort. The open concept space gives me the perfect view of them, sitting with their heads together, focusing on Ani’s drawing.
“No, Tom-Tom, they need a skylight. How are they gonna see in there without one?” she asks him, in the most serious tone she can muster.
“No worries,zayka. I have fairy lights for the inside.” He smiles at her, and she looks at him like he’s a hero instead of a dangerous assassin for the Russian mafia. He’s so good with her that I see a hero too.
“You think of everything!” she squeals in excitement. “Daddy! How are the cookies coming along?” she yells over to me. After they’re done building their fort, Ani will host Tomas and I for tea.
“Um, I’m just finishing the dough,” I lie.
I’m supposed to have cookies ready for the occasion, but I burnt the first batch and messed up the dough for the second one. I’m a baker, for Santa’s sake, and I can’t even make a batch of cookies. How am I supposed to win a cookie-baking competition against some of the most fierce bakers in the country if I can’t even remember all the ingredients to make the correct dough?
Tomas said everything was ‘in hand’ but he didn’t say it was resolved. I heard him talking to someone on the phone this morning when he thought I was sleeping, another voice with a Russian accent, and it didn’t sound like the issue was resolved. The stress of worrying about our safety, lying to cover up our random vacation, and thinking of the impact this will have on Ani is driving me up a wall.
Every time my mom or brother texts me, I feel a led weight sinking in my stomach. Val knows something isn’t right, and he keeps checking in, asking to speak to Ani. My mind runs wild with anxiety, at the thought of what could happen if the mob finds us. I’m father of the fucking year for cracking under the pressure. How could I let this happen to my baby girl?
