Page 31 of Wicked Union

"Shit," he hisses, and Tony chuckles.

"Got ya good, didn't they?" he asks and stops pouring. "Need a drink?" Tony offers the bottle to Tito, who swipes it out of his hand and takes a long drink. As the bottle rights itself, he looks to me but says nothing.

"We got five more men injured, guys. Boss is fine. His lady can patch him up. We gotta go." Sal hovers by the door in what I think is a heartless response to a bad injury.

Tony looks at me and Tito, and my husband nods at him. "Go on… Make sure they're okay. Make sure we have plenty of arms ready for the retaliation. It's sure to happen quickly."

I can't even believe what I'm hearing. Retaliation? They’ve obviously started something with their enemies, probably the Russians, and they're expecting it to continue now.

"What the fuck?" I ask, standing up quickly. "Get back here! He needs help!" I'm livid, wanting to chase the men down as they make a swift exit, but Tito grabs my arm and squeezes my wrist.

"Let them go…" he growls, and I wrestle away from him. He moves and fights me, causing the bleeding to get worse, but he doesn't seem to care. The men are gone, and I don't know how to take care of a gunshot wound.

"You started something, didn't you? With the Russians?" I glare at him, all my anger suddenly turned in his direction. His men were catalyzing a conflict that needed to be deescalated.

"Aria, sit down and listen to me," Tito shouts, but the booming voice only rattles my chest. I was already afraid all day. I don't even respond to that right now. My fear for my family overrides my fear of him.

"No, I won't. Your enemies are pushing my father around and it needs to stop. You're out there inciting them to violence, and my family is who will pay." I'm crying now, hot, angry tears that burn streaks down my cheeks.

"I said, sit the fuck down and listen to me." Tito is angry now, pushing his bleeding body off the now-stained sofa to tower over me. I've never seen him actually angry with me, only the type of feigned anger that allows him to push my buttons. I cower instantly, sinking to the bloody surface as he twists my arm. "Do not test me tonight."

A few drops of blood dribble down his bare bicep toward my hand, and I nod at him, biting my lip. I'm scared, but not of him. Even now, even when he's glaring at me and his eyebrows touch in the center with rage. He won't hurt me. He knows he will lose everything if he does, but that's not why I'm not afraid.

I trust him. I actually fucking trust him for some God-awful reason, and I don't know why. And seeing the blood he is shedding makes me fearful that my father will shed blood too, that Tito won't be able to uphold his end of the bargain and protect the people I love. I need to feel comfort now, and short of driving all the way across the city to see my father in person and know he's okay, the only thing I have is this beast of a man who is intimidating me right now.

"Tito…" I whimper, and his grip on my wrist loosens.

"I'm taking care of it." He lets go of me, and I stand again, this time clinging to his chest. I don't care about the blood or the sweat, or even the sticky alcohol that reeks. This has gotten out of control. Carlos did something I can't undo, and I'm afraid of what it means.

"Please…" I whimper again, and his arms come around me tightly. When I look up at him, he kisses me hard, teeth scraping against my lip. The warmth of his arms around me is the comfort I need, but I see the angry beast within him needs comfort too. And for some strange reason, I want to give it to him.

"I've got it…" he says again, calmly. Then his eyes dip to my lips and back to my gaze. "I'm going to fuck you now because I need to dump this stress or I'm going to kill someone."

I don’t even get a chance to resist, but why would I? Instead, I nod my head and willingly let him push me against the wall. His hand comes between my thighs and he growls in approval.

"Never been so wet for a man's pain, huh?" he grunts, and I blush.

"No," I admit, because it’s not the pain he’s in. It’s the need I see in his eyes. He needs me the way I need him, but differently. I need his strength. He needs my surrender, to dominate me, to feel powerful again. Symbiotes tangled up in one another, sick and twisted but functional.

I don't fight as his pants hit the floor, revealing his erection, as his hands tear at my blouse and slacks. I offer only mild protest as he drops to his knees and rips my panties apart, exposing my core. His teeth pinch my tender parts, not wet yet, but already pulsing with want. The pain mixes with pleasure, and I moan, biting my bottom lip to keep quiet.

"Louder," he growls. "I want everyone to know you're mine."

I try to be quiet, but it's hard when he's fingering me with one hand and sucking on my clit. I'm so wet now, so ready for him I could die. The volume of my pleasure sounds increases naturally, which seems to encourage him. He fucks me harder with his two fingers while he sucks me off, and his thumb rubs over my ass too, stimulating me there. I’m trembling, knees going weak, pussy aching for his cock.

I’m a bloody mess, literally, my hands coated in the red life force still seeping out of his arm. It’s on the wall, on his hair, between my fingers, against my tits. It’s everywhere and it’s erotic. I think of his fingers around my throat and come undone, pressing my eyes shut as orgasm shakes my core. I’m screaming, clawing at his head, picturing the blood behind my eyelids and his hand on my throat. It’s powerful enough that I have to lean on him, and he holds me up as he fucks me until the convulsions slow and his sucking stops.

Long, slow laps at my pussy tease me and make me jolt. I open my eyes again and see more blood spilled, running down my thigh. When he stands again, I don’t even have a chance to breathe before he’s kneading my tits, spreading my thighs with his knee. His hand covers my mouth as he thrusts into me harshly against the wall, our bodies pressing together in a dance of lust and desire, violence and pain. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer, harder, deeper as his hips begin to thrust.

His hand on my mouth muffles my moans, but I don’t care anymore. I bite into his hand, drawing more blood as he slams inside me, eyes wild with lust and need. He’s close too, I can tell by the way his cock twitches inside me and the way he grunts. His hips jerk and pull, giving me everything he has left to fillme up. And I’m whimpering, needing something to make me go again.

I take his wrists and guide his hands, both of them this time, to my neck. I want him—no, I need him—to take me to the brink, push me to the edge of consciousness, and hold me there while my body shakes with pleasure. “Please,” I mouth to him, and his hands begin to tighten.

Tito’s grip is firm, his motions hard, and his thrusts even harder as he plows into me against the wall. I’m gasping now, eyes tearing with pain but filled with pleasure. It all mixes together in a kaleidoscope of sensations that leave me begging for more and pleading for it to stop. I’m so close, so close to orgasm again as the blood rushes to my head.

The room around us begins to spin, and I can’t breathe. My hands fly up, nails raking his back as he continues to fuck me, hips ramming into mine with a force that would have normally made me cry out in pain but instead has me moaning his name like a prayer. “Tito,” I mouth, clawing at his back and squeezing my pussy tightly around him. His cock pulses inside me, hot and thick, and I’m about to pass out as he clamps down harder on my neck.

Then it hits me like a ton of bricks. Orgasm after orgasm slams through my body as Tito roars his desire. His hips spasm, and I’m along for the ride, clinging to him as we ride out my high together. My body shakes and trembles, holding onto his wrists as he holds me up. My breath is gone, but it doesn’t matter because he’s got me pinned against the wall. His thrusts slow, and I can breathe again when his hand moves.

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