Page 94 of Hateful Vows
He moves, and my world shifts.
I’m getting fucked, inside my wife’s perfect cunt, and there will be no coming back from this. It’s an out of body experience, my nerve endings firing with the need to come. Aleksei’s cock is warm against mine, gliding smoothly with the lube and Irina’s wetness that drips down onto my balls. She’s wet and aching and perfect.
“I’m gonna come,” I say between clenched teeth, the admission setting everyone off.
Aleksei’s rhythm doesn’t falter as he fucks us both in long, steady strokes, ruining us for everyone else. I come with a cry, followed by the two people I love most in this fucked up world. Irina clenches around us and Aleksei’s moans fill the room last,hips stuttering as he releases inside her, the warmth of his cum a delicious and forbidden sensation I’ll never get enough of.
We remain like this for a while.
Irina lets out a grunt.
“You’ve murdered my pussy.”
“Damn right, we did. Get ready to be full of our cum every fucking night,cuore mio. I’ll never get enough of filling you up.”
Her pussy tightens around us and both Aleksei and I groan. I might own her body but we all know who’s running this fucking show.
When we withdraw and lay down on the bed, I’m weaker than I’ve been in days but for once, it isn’t because I’m missing nutrients or craving a drug my system will forever be demanding. My legs don’t support my weight because two Russians just blew my mind to smithereens.
Irina and Aleksei support me as we walk to the en-suite bathroom and wash ourselves, the post-coital kisses turning languid and solemn, a quiet worship we all partake in. Then, we eat the dinner Francisco and Magda left for us. Our home is quiet and warm, delicious smell coming from the kitchen making my stomach rumble, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since after my swim this morning.
We eat in silence, soft touches the only thing between us, keeping us grounded.
When we go back to the bedroom and the light has been switched off, only the distant sounds of the city can be heard in the silent room. I whisper the words that fill my chest, echoed by two voices that will forever occupy my mind, my heart, my life and my bed.
“I love you,” I say.
“I love you, too,” they answer in unison.
“I wish I could make Gio pay for what he did to us,” I tell them when I think they are both asleep. But I should have known better.
“You can,” Irina answers in the dark.
I straighten up and light up the side lamp again. The soft glow illuminates both their faces, and they look like nightmare monsters, eyes dark and faces shifting with the light.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s in the basement at the mansion,” Aleksei answers.
I jump up, grimacing at how my muscles scream at the effort. “At the mansion? Are you out of your mind? My mother’s there. If she finds him?—”
“He’s in solitary confinement. Guards are permanently posted in front of the cell and Lucie’s moved there to take care of your mother.”
“Fuck.” I pull at my roots, and sit on the plush chair, dropping my elbows to my knees, head in between. The clock indicates eleven pm in bright red. I’m never going to be able to sleep. Not now. Not until Gio and I meet.
My hands shake the whole drive to the Ventura’s mansion. I might be wearing a custom suit, a new jewelled cross against my throat, sent by the Cosa Nostra’s higher ups with their "deepest sympathy”—though they’ll be looking our way to see if I fail to recover quick enough and need to be replaced—everything to project strength, I feel nothing but desperation.
I try to deny my body’s reaction to Gio, the deep rooted pain in my stomach, the roiling nausea, the cold sweat. It doesn’twork. I grieved someone who didn’t die, and his rebirth almost caused me my life.
The silhouette of the mansion stands proud even in the dark of night.
Pebbles crunch under our feet, and I hope it won’t wake my mother. She hasn’t had a good day in weeks, Irina told me, and I haven’t been able to visit her, show her she still has a son who loves her and will do anything for her. I can’t focus on the guilt, though.
When we descend the steps to the basement, the three men posted in front of Gio’s cell door nod with respectful bows. If they’re surprised to see me, they don’t show it and I appreciate it. One of them is Lorenzo.
“Dante.”
“Amico,” I greet him. Then, he embraces me, his strong arms lending me strength. Lorenzo didn’t grow up with Gio. He’ll act for me and me alone. I’m sure he’d even carry out my revenge if I so much as asked for it. But I won’t. This is between me and my twin.
