Page 83 of Lord of Obsession

What remains is what has always existed beneath the surface: two people who recognized themselves in each other. Who chose each other, again and again, despite every reason not to. Despite bullets and family vendettas. Despite the weight of legacy and obligation. Despite everything our families built to contain and control us.

The evening stretches ahead, filled with private rituals and shared intimacy that others could never comprehend. The balance we've achieved—power without dominance, strength without brutality, partnership without hierarchy—took years to perfect. Like everything else we've built together, it stands as testament to a truth.

Some chains, once chosen, become a form of freedom neither of us found within family walls or blood loyalty. Some bonds, forged through choice rather than obligation, prove stronger than anything legacy or violence could create.

As the Mediterranean sunset casts our bedroom in amber and gold, I find myself once again certain of the decision made five years ago. The choice to walk away from my father's world. The choice to build something true from the ashes of inherited violence. The choice to belong to Dario, as completely as he belongs to me.

A choice neither of us has ever regretted, despite everything it cost to claim.

Moonlight streamsthrough our bedroom windows, painting Dario's skin in silver as he sleeps beside me. Five years together, and I still find myself watching him in these unguarded moments. The sharp angles of his face softened slightly by rest, the predatory vigilance temporarily suspended. In sleep, his features carry echoes of the boy he must have been before his father transformed him into a weapon.

I trace the scars on his chest with gentle fingers, each mark a chapter in the story that brought us here. The bullet wounds from the warehouse that night. The knife marks from earlier conflicts. Newer scars from the Istanbul operation two years ago, when three separate families tried to eliminate the threat we represent to traditional power structures.

His breathing remains even under my touch—trust demonstrated in continued rest despite my exploration. In the early months, neither of us could sleep through the other's movement. Old training, old caution, old habits bred into our bones before we could walk. Now, we've achieved another kind of balance: vigilance maintained without sacrificingintimacy.

"You're thinking too loudly," he murmurs without opening his eyes, voice rough with sleep and something else that sends heat through my body. "I can practically hear the strategic planning from here."

I smile, not bothering to deny it. "The Russian situation presents interesting variables."

His hand captures mine, bringing my fingers to his lips. "Always three moves ahead." The words carry admiration rather than criticism. "One of many reasons I claimed you as mine."

"Mutual claiming," I correct, though the possessive language no longer triggers the defensive response it once did. Five years of partnership has transformed what started as a power struggle into something more balanced, more true.

Dario shifts, propping himself on one elbow to look down at me. Moonlight casts shadows across his features, emphasizing the predatory focus that attracted me from the beginning. "Having second thoughts about our approach?"

I shake my head, certainty filling my chest. "Strategic transparencyremains our best option. The Russians already know who we are—or at least they've connected enough dots to make educated guesses. Controlling the narrative means acknowledging what they've discovered while establishing clear boundaries."

His smile carries sharp edges but genuine warmth beneath. "Calculated revelation rather than continued denial. From anyone else, it would sound like capitulation. From you, it sounds like chess."

"Three-dimensional chess," I correct, sliding my hand into his hair to pull him down for a kiss that quickly ignites into something more heated. Five years together, and desire still burns immediate and overwhelming between us. Physical connection that carries none of our early violence but all of its intensity. His hands map my body with deliberate care, each touch proprietary but gentle.

"The Jakarta team confirms operational status," he murmurs against my skin between kisses. "All security protocols activated ahead of the foundation delegation's arrival."

I laugh, the sound carrying genuine amusement rather than the carefullycontrolled responses I once maintained. "Operational updates during foreplay? Some habits never change."

His teeth find my pulse, sending electricity down my spine. "Multitasking. An essential skill in our line of work." The words echo conversations from years ago, when we were still defining the boundaries of whatever exists between us.

My hands slide down his back, feeling muscle and scar tissue beneath my palms. His body tells our shared story—bullets taken protecting me, knife wounds from operations we've conducted together, marks I've left with teeth and nails during moments like this. Personal history written in flesh and blood.

His expression transforms, academic sharpness softening with something that still surprises me when I glimpse it. Something neither of our families taught us to recognize or value.

The world narrows to the space between us, operational concerns and strategic planning temporarily suspended. Nothing exists beyond this room, beyond the heat of skin against skin and the certainty of belongingthat's replaced all other loyalties. Outside, sophisticated security systems maintain constant vigilance. Inside, he is on top of me, his dick pressing inside me. My body expects it now and opens willingly to take him. He fucks me hard and deep, as has always been our way.

Sometimes he comes inside my ass and I love the feeling of the hot spurts of his pleasure deep inside me.

Not this morning.

This morning when his moans get louder and I feel his body begin to change and I know he is close, he pulls out of me, rocking back onto his knees.

I know exactly what he wants as I move quickly into position to take him in my mouth, forcing past my gag reflex, so his big hard cock goes all the way into my throat.

I know how much he loves that, the tightness of my throat around the head of his dick, the tears beading in my eyes as I gag more and then take him deeper anyway.

I feel his hands gripping my head as he thrusts, once, twice, thrice and then explodes.

Afterward,we lie tangled in imported sheets, my head resting on his chest as his fingers trace patterns across my shoulders. The villa settles around us with comfortable familiarity, ancient stones standing sentinel as we exist in this moment of perfect peace. The kind of peace neither of us experienced within family walls, where threat assessment and power dynamics infiltrated even the most intimate moments.

"The foundation delegation arrives at eight," Dario murmurs against my hair, though neither of us makes any move to separate. "Torres will escort them from the diplomatic terminal to the Castellani Group headquarters for initial briefing."

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