Page 23 of Wicked Union

"Yeah, he kept trying to tell me to calm down." Tito yanks off his tie and throws it, then proceeds to tear his clothing off in a very angry fashion as he relays how the FBI has torn apart several of his businesses’ office spaces looking for evidence. I can't look him in the eye or he'll see my stained conscience.

When he climbs into bed and crawls over to me, I know my guilt is only going to get worse. He started something in that car that he wants to finish, but now that I've seen how angry he is, how hurt he feels, I don’t think I can bring myself to fuck him. It would be like I'm pouring salt into his wound but he won't feel it until later, and when he does, he'll be so angry, he really will kill me.

"That sounds like a very difficult position to be in…" I'm not sure what to say to comfort him because I know it's all my doing. And in this moment, my stupid fucked-up heart wants to take it back, to make it like it never happened and Tito walks scot-free.

"I have an even more difficult position to be in, and I want you in it… now." His fingers coil around my neck and press into the throbbing vein next to my esophagus. "If you still want me to make you feel something."

I can't say no to him, because I feel so ashamed for hurting him and because I actually do want him. I wanted him in that limo, and I want him to finish what we started earlier.

I nod and let him have his way with me. His firm grip on my neck strengthens as he pulls me backward. I whimper when heforcefully drags me across the bed until my head is on his pillow and my legs are stretched out.

"Do you like it rough?" Tito asks, and I nod even though that’s not entirely what I want right now. "Good," he growls, and before I can react, his dick is in my mouth, semi-hard and salty. His hips start thrusting, and I try not to cut him open with my teeth, but he straddles my head and thrusts so hard and so deep I am gagging.

I claw at his ass when his cock pushes into my throat, and I feel my body jerking as my gag reflex pinches his head. My eyes water. My legs protest, pushing me across the silky sheets until my head hits the headboard.

"Oh, fuck, baby, that's incredible. Gag for me again," he grunts, pushing into my throat again, and I find his begging strangely erotic. He continues to fuck my throat so hard I’m drawing blood with my fingernails on his ass. He grabs my hair and yanks it back, exposing my neck. I gasp before he grinds his cock past my tonsils again, his balls slapping against my chin. I can't breathe and my vision is going out of focus, but I don't want him to stop. Somehow, this feels a fitting punishment for my betrayal. I deserve this.

“Shit… I gotta stop…” Tito slowly pulls his cock from my mouth with a wetPopand it springs up, my spit dripping to my cheek. He’s rock hard now, precum beading on his head, and I’m panting for breath. I’m also so fucking hot for him that my pussy aches and throbs.

I moan when he climbs off me and grips my ankles, pulling me to the side of the bed. Tito spreads my legs wide, his muscled thighs inserting themselves between mine. He smirks down at me before pushing himself home, effortlessly stretching me.Holy fuck, does it feel good. He grabs my hips and picks me up so only my shoulders are on the mattress and starts pounding into me. The headboard keeps rhythm with his hips, beating against the wall. He goes deep, ensuring he hits my back wall with every thrust, and I am a whimpering ball of need, now scratching his hands.

“Shit, oh, shit,” I moan, unable to pry his hard grasp off my hip bones. He’s an animal, not letting up for a second, and I’m helpless as he pounds me. I might start bleeding. It actually hurts for a moment, but I distract myself by touching my clit, and in seconds, I’m on the edge, ready to snap.

“Ah, not so fast.” Tito stops short, denying my moans for more, and lowers my hips back to the mattress. “I want you to beg me, Aria.”

"Please, Tito, please!" I beg. I’ve never felt this desperate for anything in my life. Not even air. “I need it!” I whine.

He grins, wiping the sweat from his brow and sliding his hands up over my body. “Louder.” One hand grips my tit, while the other curls around my throat. The sweet pressure of his thumb pushing against my jugular makes it impossible for me to say it louder, but I try.

“Please… fuck… me…” My eyes are locked on his as his hips begin slowly thrusting, his cock making glorious friction against my pussy walls.

“Beg,” he orders again, and now his grip on my neck is so tight I can’t breathe at all. My lips move, but no sound comes out as I mouth “fuck me” over and over again. I thrash against his muscular body, my nails leaving crescent moons in his wrist,but he doesn’t budge. “Beg me, Aria!” he growls, and I'm at my breaking point.

“Fuck me… fuck me… fuck me!” I mouth, and Tito's lips crash against mine, biting my bottom lip until I taste blood. He picks up speed, slamming into me so hard I swear the bed moves. I can’t think straight anymore. Everything is just a haze of white and red and pleasure as he pounds into me.

When his thumb presses on my clit, it’s consuming. Every muscle in my body tenses. My pussy locks down on his dick, and I feel my consciousness slipping. The jolts and spasms of pleasure roll across me in waves that only intensify the second he takes his hand from my neck, and I don’t even feel his release this time. The pleasure is so overwhelming, all I feel are the surging hormones and endorphins that make me body convulse and my heart connect, and without thinking, I’m muttering, “Fuck, I love you…”

Tito thrusts until my body is only spasming lightly, then pulls out and flips me over. I crawl back to my side of the bed and collapse a quivering mess, and the bed shakes as he climbs in and pulls me against his sweaty body. My stomach rolls again, and I don't know whether it's because I just confessed to loving the man who has the power to destroy my father or if his plan of impregnating me has been successful. Probably the former. I can't believe I told him I love him. How can I betray my brother like this?

Tears well up, but I hold them back until I hear Tito snoring. Then I slip out of his arms and head to the bathroom. I glance in the mirror and see the marks around my neck, probably enough to prove he "hurts" me. But even the thought of hurting him more makes my body react. I'm kneeling on the floor bythe toilet, emptying my dinner into the bowl and praying Tito doesn't hear me.

What am I doing?

18

TITO

The lawyer sits across the coffee table from me at my father’s house, giving me a look that tells me he doesn’t believe what I’m saying. I don't give two fucks what he thinks. I'm not signing a plea deal for any of this bullshit. I know I'm as guilty as the court says I am, but I'm not going down as the only Ramiro in history who got caught. How those Russian bastards got this information is beyond me. They have to have someone on the inside helping them.

"Look, it's five years in minimum security, Tito. You'll basically be living at a fucking country club and?—"

"And I'm not a fucking fool, Aaron." He hates how I cut him off, but he works for me, not the other way around. I stand and loosen my tie, pacing the Persian rug Dad insists on keeping. Never in my life have I been so insulted. I'll hire a new lawyer, find one who will do what I say when I say it. This man isn't the bulldog I need. He's a puppy on a leash. "I'm not going to prison."

I hear Dad's hard sigh, a wheezing sound of displeasure with the situation. He shouldn't even be thinking about this. He's so sickhe can't even get up for more than a few minutes without being winded and lying back down. This is my mess, but he's here prying into it for some reason, and I know that reason is Carlos. I definitely smell a rat.

"Tito, sit down," Dad rasps, and I look down at him. I don't want to sit down. I want to punch this shitty lawyer in his big, crooked nose and show him just how seriously I’m taking this thing of not pleading out. But I comply with a dying man's request, sitting in the hard armchair I just vacated in rage. Dad turns to Aaron and says, "He's not taking a deal…"

The tone of Dad's voice is resolute. He, like me, understands the leader of an organization the size of ours can't go to prison. With Dad's health declining, he won't make it another five months, let alone five years. Our family can't handle a change of regime under these circumstances.

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