Page 69 of All the Dangerous Things

I closed my eyes and shivered, his words making my pussy tighten in response.

I looked him in the eye when I answered. “I want you to use me.”

His cock visibly jerked and bobbed at that.

“Use you?” he questioned.

Gio was a sadist. He liked humiliating me by forcing me to tell him my nastiest fantasies.

“Use me like I’m your slut.”

He hummed in pleasure. “Come here, baby.” He lowered his head slightly but kept his focus on me. “Come here and kneel in front of me. I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

I moved to him automatically, my mind and body knowing what it wanted. I sank to my knees and stared up at him, not caring that I was getting soaked.

His cock was so hard, thick drops of pre-cum forming at the tip before the water from the shower washed them away.

“My pretty little Russian doll wants some big, fat Italian cock. Isn’t that right?”

I nodded, already so breathless.

He gripped that enormous dick in his tattooed fist and started stroking himself lazily. “You know what would happen if your crazy-ass brothers found out I took their little sister’s virginity and have been fucking her so raw she can’t walk right the next day?”

I swayed from the force of his obscene words. “They’d probably try to kill you.”

He chuckled low and deep. “They could try,” he said in a tone that told me he didn’t give a shit or even think Dmitry and Nikolai could hurt him.

“Enough talking. I want your mouth too full of dick to utter a word.” He gripped the back of my head, using my hair as leverage while he guided the crown to my mouth.

Gio smeared his pre-cum along my mouth like it was lipstick, and I greedily licked it off. I moaned at how good and salty he tasted.

“Open wide and show me how good you suck my cock. Be my good little whore, Tatiana.”

And I did just that.

28

NIKOLAI

We’d left Butcher and Son over an hour ago. Amara and Claudia had headed home, and Dmitry and I found ourselves atSdat'sya, one bar we owned. The Pit was below the bar, an entry level fighting ring that held more novice fights than what we organized at Butcher and Son.

We’d stopped in to handle some business and were now seated in a booth at the rear of the bar, tossing back a few drinks before we needed to go home to our girls.

Right now, with all the shit of our world weighing down on us, we needed the noise and the vodka. The heavy bass of the music was a tangible thrum in the background. I downed my drink in onego, the burn of the alcohol doing little to ease the fire inside me.

I slammed the glass down, the sound sharp and final in the dimly lit room. Dmitry glanced over at me, his own glass clutched tight, but he didn’t say a word. We both knew words were useless right now.

An MMA match was on, and both of us focused on the fight as we drank. It wasn’t long before Sly found us. He approached the booth with a look on his face—one that said the task we’d given him had been successful. He had information for us.

And judging by his expression, the news wasn’t going to be good.

I met Dmitry’s gaze, seeing the same readiness reflected in his eyes.

“Bosses,” Sly said, leaning in close so only we could hear him.

He was one of our low-level men who worked the streets. He wasn’t part of the Bratva in an official sense. He wasn’t even Russian. But he was fucking scared of us, and that made him loyal as hell.

“I’ve got news about Tatiana’s attacker.”

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