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Benedetto runs his thumb over my cock head, rutting into me the entire time. "Let it out, perfect boy." He sinks his teeth into my neck, kissing me as he makes love to me. "This means you've found the man you want to be with for the rest of your life. Me. Your Daddy."
The fantasy is too much to take. I succumb to my pleasure, spreading my legs wide. I slide my middle finger into my hole, working it into my passage which is something I've never done, feeling my body relent. I never, ever masturbate in the basement, mostly because it attracts unwanted attention.
"Daddy!" I scream as I buck on the bed, working my palm up and down my cock. I picture Benedetto heaving me onto his lap, his enormous hand coming down on my cheeks, claiming me, keeping me safe from everyone who wants to hurt me.
He's so different from my clients, so big and strong as fuck. And the gesture he made yesterday when he lent me his Glock, trusting me to handle such a dangerous weapon, proves he deserves me.
Hot shots of cum spring out of the tip of my dick. They surge onto my belly, coating me in spunk. I let out a groan as I collapse on the sheets, quivering with need.
I imagine him kneeling over me, running his hairy palms over my skinny tummy, rubbing my release into my skin. He stares down at me with flames in his eyes and I know I made the right decision by letting him in.
"You can't do this again." I glance at the mess I made and grit my teeth. My captors would belt me if they saw I wasted so much cum. They’d be suspicious, too, because they know I never release voluntarily.
And as amazing as this felt, as breathtaking as it was to fantasize about Benedetto, I know this is dangerous. It sets me up for hurt. Even though my gut trusts him, he could still be a monster, exactly like the men I'm running away from.
As long as I don't let this happen again, everything will be all right.
7
BENEDETTO
Later that day
"I have a surprise."
I grip Wesley's hand and lead him into the secret room at my Hamptons country club. It's a place that I specifically requested the architects hide in the blueprints. You can only access it with a special eye scanner and it's far away from the other guests.
This way, Wesley will be safe when he meets Arlo and Rusty for the first time. He won't have to worry about members of the Diavolo family stealing him.
Wesley gulps. "What kind of surprise?" He stares at his feet. "I'm not used to surprises."
"You'll see when we get there." I speak sternly, refusing to give away the secret. "It'll help you pass time over the next few weeks. And give you purpose."
Wesley twiddles his thumbs. "I hope it's a good surprise." He rocks back and forth. "The only surprises we got in the warehouse were bad. They involved belts and chains and black rooms we couldn’t escape from."
I shake my head in disgust. Today, I'm also introducing Wesley to a special friend. He'll be lonely when he stays with me, because he won’t have anyone his own age to play with. I’m working during the day.
Pickles has been in doggy daycare this past week because I've focused on Wesley. She met him in my black transport van, but he was unconscious. It's time to let the two officially meet.
Pickles isn't a regular dog. She's a trained killer who sniffs out my enemies. She can slip into areas where other dogs would get shot because nobody suspects such cute critters work for the mob.
"Open the door. Your surprise waits beyond."
When Wesley plays with Pickles, Constantine, Gianluca, and I will have another meeting about his situation. I disclosed I brought Wesley to the Bettencourts’ backyard but he recognized nothing.Gianluca found this interesting and wondered if we made a mistake thinking Wesley's the Bettencourt boy. But the positive DNA test baffles us. The puppy will distract Wesley from our meeting.
Wesley cracks open the door… and squeals when he sees it. Pickles sits on the sofa, acting like the goddamn queen of this country club. In fact, she probably is.
A shredded pillow lies in front of her, ostensibly her new favorite chew toy. The box of treats I purchased so Wesley could bond with her rests haphazardly on its side, treats spilled everywhere.
I let out a groan. "Goddamnit, Pickles." After marching to her side, I scoop her into my arms. "I told younotto get into these fucking treats. These are for a special occasion.”
Wesley can't believe his eyes. "Is it a boy or girl?"
"A girl." I hand Wesley my puppy. "Her name is Pickles. She's a nine-month-old teacup poodle who I can't leave alone in a room anymore."
Wesley presses Pickles to his chest. "I've never had a puppy before." He strokes her fur, then buries his nose in her body. "She's so cute. I wanted an animal so badly in the warehouse. Just a little one! But those bastards wouldn't let me."
"Who wouldn’t let you have a pet?" I grit my teeth.
