Page 39 of The Bratty Heir

Victor's grip tightened possessively. "And now you're mine," he growled. "My good boy."

The praise sent a thrill through Rocco. He turned in Victor's arms, tilting his face up for a kiss. "Am I though?" he teased, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Maybe I need a reminder of just how good I can be for you, Daddy."

Victor's eyes darkened with lust. "Careful, brat," he warned, one large hand coming up to grip Rocco's jaw. "You might get more than you bargained for."

Rocco grinned, pressing his body flush against Victor's. "Promise?"

With a low growl, Victor claimed Rocco's mouth in a bruising kiss. His tongue swept inside, tasting of whiskey and desire. Rocco melted into it, giving as good as he got.

When they finally broke apart, both panting, Rocco's lips felt deliciously swollen. "Fuck," he breathed. "I'll never get tired of that."

Victor smirked, his thumb tracing Rocco's bottom lip. "Good. Because I plan on kissing you like that for a very long time, baby."

The tender moment was interrupted by the buzz of Victor's phone. He pulled it out with a frown, his expression darkening as he read the message.

"What is it?" Rocco asked, anxiety creeping in.

Victor's jaw clenched. "Trouble brewing on the docks. Looks like the remnants of Bianchi's crew are making another play for our territory."

Rocco's heart sank. Their brief respite was over, reality intruding once more. He squared his shoulders, pushing down the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. "What do we do?"

Victor's eyes gleamed with pride. "That's my boy," he murmured. "Always ready for a fight." He pressed a quick kiss to Rocco's forehead. "First, we gather intel. Then we plan our counterattack."

As Victor made calls, barking orders to their lieutenants, Rocco paced the living room. His mind raced with possibilities, strategies he'd learned over the past months bubbling to the surface.

"We should hit them where it hurts," he said when Victor hung up. "Their money laundering operation through that chain of laundromats. If we can disrupt that, it'll cripple their cash flow."

Victor's eyebrows rose, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Look at you, strategizing like a proper don." He pulled Rocco close, nuzzling into his hair. "I'm so fucking proud of you, baby boy."

Rocco preened under the praise, warmth blooming in his chest. But the bratty part of him couldn't resist pushing just a little further. "Yeah? Maybe you should show me just how proud you are, Daddy."

Victor's eyes darkened with lust. "Careful what you wish for, brat," he growled. "You might not be able to sit comfortably for our strategy meeting tomorrow."

Rocco grinned, a wicked glint in his eye. "Promise?"

With a low growl, Victor hoisted Rocco over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Rocco yelped, laughing as Victor smacked his ass and carried him towards the bedroom.

"Such a mouthy little thing," Victor rumbled, tossing Rocco onto the massive bed. "I think it's time Daddy taught you a lesson in respect."

Rocco sprawled on the silk sheets, looking up at Victor through his lashes. "Oh no," he said with mock horror. "Whatever will you do to me, Daddy?"

Victor's grin was pure predator as he stalked towards the bed, unbuckling his belt with deliberate slowness. "Oh, I've got a few ideas, baby boy. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging so pretty for me."

Heat pooled in Rocco's groin, his cock hardening in anticipation. This was what he craved—Victor's firm hand, his unwavering control. It grounded Rocco in a way nothing else could, quieting the chaos in his mind.

Victor stripped efficiently, his muscled body a work of art in the dim light. Scars marred his olive skin, including the fresh, puckered line from the gunshot wound that had nearly taken him away. Rocco's mouth watered at the sight of Victor's impressive cock, already half-hard and thickening by the second.

"Eyes up here, baby," Victor commanded, snapping his fingers. "What's your safeword?"

"Red," Rocco replied automatically.

Victor nodded in approval. "Good boy. Now strip for me. Slowly."

Rocco obeyed, taking his time as he peeled off his clothes. He made a show of it, arching his back as he pulled his shirt over his head, shimmying his hips as he slid his jeans down his legs. By the time he was naked, Victor's eyes were dark with hunger.

"On your hands and knees," Victor ordered. "Ass up, face down."

Rocco scrambled to comply, presenting himself for Victor's inspection. He felt exposed, vulnerable, his hole clenching around nothing as cool air hit his heated skin.

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