by Shandi Boyes
Needing to get my head back into game mode, I swivel my index finger around Roxanne’s cunt, growling at how it sucks at my finger. “Forever fucking begging.”
Roxanne doesn’t deny my claims. She knows what happens to people who lie to me, so she’d never be stupid enough to test the theory.
I pump in and out of her slick slit until the sound of her wetness comes close to overtaking her hearty moans, then I withdraw all contact. I was born a prick, I am still a prick, but that isn’t what this is about. I want to sample Roxanne’s mouth and cunt at the same time, and this is the only way I can achieve that.
Roxanne’s deep exhale dries some of her arousal on my knuckles when I pop my index and middle finger into her mouth. I could have kept it to one digit as I did her cunt, but what can I say, I’m a greedy fucker who loves watching my wife gag on my fingers as if they are my cock.
“Oh...” Roxanne murmurs on a moan, not only turned on by how good she tastes, but also moaning in response to my tongue getting in on the action. I swipe it across the lips curled around my fingers before dueling it with hers.
We kiss for several long minutes, biting, licking, and mouth-fucking each other like we don’t need air in our lungs to live. Our pace only slows when Roxanne’s impatience gets the better of her. After yanking one of her hands out of the restraint that’s extra slippery due to the humidity in the bathroom, she slides it into my trousers.
When her thumb rolls over the bead of precum on the top of my shaft, she breathes heavily into my mouth. “I swear you get thicker every time we fuck,” she confesses, her strokes quickening when my fingers find their way back to her drenched cunt.
After yanking off her panties, I pound into her pussy with my fingers like my cock is dying to do. While moaning like she’s possessed, Roxanne slides the waistband of my trousers over my ass before yanking down my trunks. Once her hand circles my shaft, she pulls her mouth away from mine, desperate to take in the image of my cock sliding in and out of her tiny hand.
I swear she loves stroking me as much as she does watching me do it on her behalf. She’s so fucking obsessed with me bringing myself to climax, she’s asked me to do it numerous times the past almost four years. She’s even sketched me stroking my cock on more than one occasion.
Her drawings are erotic pieces of art I value as much as the alteration of light that forever occurs when she spots my cock. Whether deflating after a recent fuck session or hardening at the thought of her lips wrapping around the tip while showering, she forever stares at my cock like a hungry little minx who hasn’t had it inside of her a minimum once a day for the past four years.
Even having Matteo didn’t slow us down. We didn’t fuck the three weeks she was out of commission, but Roxanne sure as hell did take my dick between her lips as often as possible. Rocco said I should ‘cut the poor girl some slack,’ unaware that holding Roxanne back is the equivalent of me issuing mercy to someone who hurt her. Not fucking possible. I’m a man not a saint.
Besides, Roxanne doesn’t want a man. She wants a bastard, a killer, a man who’d rather slay her than ever see her with anyone but him, and I’m giving her exactly what she wants.
Roxanne smashes her head into the mirror with a moan when I fall to my knees before delving my head between her legs. “Oh, God.”
I drag my tongue up her slick cunt before swiveling it around her clit. It’s buzzing with so much energy, I’m confident it will only take two tugs of my teeth to send her freefalling over the edge.
“Look at me,” I demand, needing her eyes on me.
The reasoning behind her fascination with sketching her mother’s exchanges when she was a child made sense the first time I saw the light in her eyes shift. It wasn’t as bright as the gleam in her eyes when Matteo was placed on her chest after a thirteen-hour long labor, but it’s had me riveted with voyeurism ever since. Except, I don’t want to watch the shift in anyone’s eyes. I only want to see it in hers—my wife’s.
Once Roxanne’s eyes lock with mine, I tug at her clit with my teeth. My growl rolls through her clenching cunt as effectively as the shakes wreaking havoc with her body when she’s blindsided by an orgasm.
While screaming my name on repeat, her thighs hug my head, but not once does she attempt to yank me away as she did the blonde who kneeled in front of me all those years ago. She’d rather die from sexual exhaustion than ever deprive me of the one thing I crave more than anything.
As my name falls from her mouth on repeat, I eat her like a crazed man. I poke my tongue inside of her, roll it over her clit, and lap up every droplet of her cum before it comes close to coating my chin, and I do it all with her eyes drinking in every move I do.
Only once her orgasm has been stretched from one to two do I stand to my feet. It’s no easy feat with how lightheaded I am. I’m not swaying because my trousers are wrapped around my ankles. It’s from how fucking bright the gleam in Roxanne’s eyes is. They’re lit up to the hilt, brighter than any star in the sky, and nothing but my lips and tongue are responsible for their illumination.
After releasing Roxanne’s hand that is still restrained with my belt, I nudge my head to the freestanding shower in our master bathroom. It was custom made to ensure I’d face no issues getting my head between my wife’s legs any time we shower together, which is almost every day. “Ass in the shower. I need to add to your wetness.”
Roxanne purrs like a little kitty when I backhand her greedy cunt to get across my point. She’s wet enough to take me now, back to back orgasms leave no doubt to that. But with it being summer and the temperature beyond fucking hot, I don’t want the friction buzzing between us to start an out of control wildfire.
I switch on the faucet, but I don’t bother twisting it to hot. Within seconds of me commanding for Roxanne to place one of her feet onto the hob in the shower and to grip the showerhead in a firm hold, she’ll be grateful for the coolness of the water, because I’m not about to drive home; I’m ready for my second helping.
“Dimi… ah… God… Fuck,” Roxanne mutters when I drop to my knees for the second time before forcing her thighs apart with my head. “It’s too much. It’s way too fucking much.”
Her screams echo off the tiled walls along with her moans when I work a third orgasm out of her in under thirty seconds. It’s not a new record for us, but for back to back orgasms, it very well could be.
After a second long lick up her convulsing cunt, I slowly make my way up her body. I kiss and caress every inch of her ravishing skin on my trek to her mouth, my pace only slowing to that of a turtle when I reach her stomach. As I cup the little pouch that should have announced she was pregnant without the need of a pregnancy test, I raise my eyes to Roxanne’s face.
Although she is smiling, her grin is unconvincing that not all the wetness on her cheeks is from the shower. She’s crying, but unlike the time she permanently cut her mother out of her life, these tears are happy ones.
“I love you, Dimitri Petretti,” she says loud enough for two blocks over to hear. “I love you so fucking much it hurts.”
I finish my climb, curl my hand around her face that’s so tiny, my palm swamps her cheek, then say, “As do I, Roxanne. As do fucking I.”
2
Roxanne
I wait for the stragglers of the meeting to make their way out of the boardroom before joining Dimitri at his desk. I’ve lived with Dimitri for over four years, birthed his son, raised his daughter as if she is my own, and am shockingly pregnant with his third child, yet half the men that just filled this space don’t know my name.
At the start, I was worried my lack of presence in Dimitri’s life would soon see me on the backfoot in all aspects of his life—both business and personal.
Dimitri soon showed me otherwise.
My face is not well-known, but I bring far more value to Dimitri’s life than the men paid to be at his side. I’m as valuable as Rocco and Smith, and at times, the only person capable of getting through to Dimitri when
ghosts of his past resurrect to haunt him.
Today’s meeting wasn’t a standard meeting filled with discussions about distributions and asset management. A majority of it was taken up ruminating about a possible takeover bid by a Russian sanction that once held footholds in this area of Florida.
Dimitri’s brother, Nikolai, wasn’t mentioned during the meeting, but the groove nestled between Dimitri’s brows the past two hours reveals who his focus is on. He doesn’t want to believe Nikolai is responsible for the increase in Russian activity in Hopeton the past three months, but since they’re barely on speaking terms, he can’t straight up ask him if that is the case.
Dimitri and Nikolai don’t see eye to eye. Despite them sharing the same DNA, they were born to be rivals. It was evident when Nikolai arrived at Hopeton only months after Fien was released from captivity, and it was still evident when he stabbed his knife into the hand of one of Dimitri’s men at the Petretti compound where today’s meeting was held.
No one comes to our family home anymore. It’s a meeting place for friends and family, not men who’d cut Dimitri out of the equation in an instant if it pocketed them more money and they wouldn’t be killed for it within a nanosecond of it happening. Dimitri’s change-up was solely based on Nikolai’s first arrival in Hopeton.
He arrived on the scene the night I forced Dimitri to dominate me by using his jealousy against him. Rocco is always on hand to rile Dimitri, but even he was left stumped by Nikolai’s unexpected arrival. I was sprawled over Dimitri’s desk, being spanked as I desperately craved when Smith interrupted the fun as he had the night Dimitri claimed my virginity.
I’ve never been introduced to Nikolai, but it’s clear from the footage I’ve seen of him that he has a lot of similarities to his younger brother. He didn’t request permission to speak with Dimitri, he walked in like he owned the place, smirking when he realized what he had interrupted. I was dressed and walked to the door by the time he reached Dimitri’s office, but not even the anger pluming out of Dimitri could eradicate the sweet smell of sex lingering in the air. Furthermore, the chemistry that forever bristles between Dimitri and me is too explosive for a touch of anger to overtake it.
It’s lucky Nikolai mistook me as one of the women paid to entertain Dimitri’s ‘guests,’ or I could have seen their exchange ending a whole lot worse than it did. Leaving me unsatisfied already fueled Dimitri’s wish to kill. The only reason he held back was because Nikolai arrived bearing gifts. It wasn’t ‘India’s head’ as many prospectors before Nikolai arrived with in the hope of cashing in the massive bounty Dimitri placed on her head, but it was the next best thing.
The Dvořáks were aware of India’s plan to trap Dimitri. They paid the amount Dimitri’s father requested when he placed his son’s legacy up for auction, so they deserved to face the scalding of Dimitri’s wrath.
Shockingly, the burn was delivered by Nikolai.
He came to Hopeton knowing Dimitri was his brother, but he wasn’t here to make a claim to an entity he may mistakenly believe he has a right to rule. He wanted the payment Dimitri placed on the table when India begged her father to put a bounty on my head.
She hated the undeniable connection between Dimitri and me when we were strangers staring at each other like star-crossed lovers in an alleyway, so there was no way in hell she would ever watch it occur up close. She wanted me dead, and her father was more than willing to grant his only daughter’s every wish.
First, he funded Eddie’s campaign to seek revenge on my ‘infidelity,’ then he came to the plate for the second time with a bigger bat when even a man as ignorant as Dimitri’s father couldn’t miss the spark igniting between Dimitri and me.
Since Mr. Dvořák wasn’t brought in alive, Nikolai was only entitled to the fifteen-million-dollar payment Dimitri offered to bring the people behind the bounty on my head to justice. Fifteen million is a massive amount to people like Estelle and me, but to Nikolai it barely made an indent into the capital he required to dethrone his father as Dimitri did when his long-range shot had the accuracy of an Olympic marksman.
Dimitri took his father out with a single bullet to the heart. The only time he has gloated about his victory was when he arrived at our room a mere three minutes after Fien had fallen asleep. It was a glorious night full of orgasms, exchanges of power, and passionate words I thought would take years to leak from Dimitri’s mouth.
He was raised by a heartless, cold man, yet he still had the ability to love. It made me love him even more, and had me understanding why he kept his word by paying Nikolai the fifteen-million-dollars he had offered.
I was frustrated when Nikolai inexplicitly stated multiple times during their meeting that they’ll never be close to friendly, but I agree with Dimitri, he deserved to collect the bounty. Once he had proof the Dvořáks were funding India’s endeavors to derail me, he took them down, brought proof of his victory to the payee, then flew home the same night.
Dimitri thought that would be the last time he’d see him.
He should have known better.
The new generation of Petrettis don’t know the words ‘back down,’ especially when it comes to protecting the people they love. Dimitri is instilling those traits to Matteo, and it appears as if some of his quirks rubbed off on Nikolai as well.
I wasn’t in the vicinity when Nikolai stabbed his knife into the hand of one of Dimitri’s men a year ago, but from what I’ve heard from Rocco, Collin deserved it. Dimitri rarely talks about Justine, but I see the guilt in his eyes anytime her name is mentioned.
He had no choice but to leave her when he did. If he hadn’t, I would have most likely died, and Dimitri wouldn’t have gotten to within a hair’s breadth of Fien. His closeness that night rattled India enough, she pulled back on the reins just a little. Her push on the brakes gave Dimitri breathing room, and it also saw me walking out of hospital instead of being wheeled out in a body bag.
To Dimitri, that alone made the sacrifice to his reputation worth it.
Dimitri was given a chance to make the blemish not as noticeable when Justine was placed up for auction by Nikolai’s ‘supposed’ father only weeks after Nikolai’s unexpected arrival to Hopeton. At first, Dimitri refused to place himself in the middle of a battle he didn’t belong in, but once he realized who was being auctioned, he swiftly changed his mind.
Even more surprising than that was my lack of jealousy.
I had no right to be resentful he was helping to shelter Justine from more harm. He left her at the mercy of his father. He stopped for me.
If that isn’t proof of my importance to him, I’ll never be able to convince you.
Vladimir Popov was killed when Nikolai raided the compound Justine was held at. Her location was unearthed because Dimitri wore a tracker after ‘purchasing’ her.
After those thrilling couple of days, life went back to normal… until now.
Dimitri doesn’t take kindly to anyone sniffing around his turf, much less stupidly trying to set up shop here. If the Russians mentioned are Nikolai’s this time around, I don’t see Dimitri holding back. Nikolai has his blood, he is his brother no matter how many times they both deny it, but I’m proof blood doesn’t make you family. It’s how you treat somebody.
Nikolai’s panties are in a twist because he’s never given Dimitri the chance to tell his side of the story. In all honesty, that isn’t solely Nikolai’s fault. To expose his flaws, Dimitri would have to expose his family. That isn’t something he’s willing to do right now. We mean more to him than the world, so he would never place us at risk to gain the approval of another man—even if he shares his blood.
I arrive at Dimitri’s side just as Rocco asks, “What is your gut telling you, D? Is it seeking a war or a prolonged hibernation?” He laughs when Dimitri glares at him during the last half of his statement. “What? How am I to know what you’re up to these days. You’re too busy knocking your girl up, and I’m…”
Dimitri and I aren’t the only on
es who notice his sudden trail off of words. Smith is right there with us. “Breaking in faces of anyone who dares to look at your girl sideways.”
“What…” A pfft vibrates Rocco’s lips. “No! I’d never do such a thing.”
He’s a woeful liar. His lips are stretched ear to ear and he’s rubbing his hands together like it’s Christmas eve instead of the Fourth of July weekend.
Eager to get the focus off him, Rocco says a couple of seconds later, “I think you should talk to Nikolai. Man to fucking man.”
“I agree,” I back up, not only jumping into the conversation but between Dimitri and Rocco before Dimitri can hit him with more than a rueful glare. “He’s going to be in town anyway, so why not kill two birds with one stone?”
“He won’t be in town,” Dimitri barks out, his tone snappy. “Permission has not been granted for him to arrive. He may think he’s top dog since he took his father down, but there are rules not even he can break.”
“Are you sure about that?” Rocco asks, still grinning. “Because from what I heard, you both broke the rules when you popped bullets into your fathers.”
“Nikolai killed Vladimir with a knife,” Smith interrupts after checking the laptop balancing on his hand to make sure he’s reporting correct information.
When Rocco backhands Smith in the chest, he almost drops his laptop. “A knife to the heart or a bullet through the heart is the same fucking thing.”
“It isn’t even close to the same thing.”
While they argue the semantics of murder, I round Dimitri’s desk. My heart thuds in my chest when he pushes away from the battered material so I can slot into my favorite position on his lap, but is left disappointed when I plant my backside on his desk instead. I need his eyes on me so he can see the honesty in them when I say, “You know as well as I do that Nikolai is arriving here sometime this week. Maddox is about to be released from jail—”
