Page 62 of Surrender

“I want you to make noise,” I tell him. “I want to hear every whimper and sound that you’re trying to hold back right now. I want to hear you.” I withdraw almost all the way then shove back in, fighting against his tightness. It’s a pity I don’t have lube with me, but he’s taking me anyway.

“Daddy, Daddy…” Fox leans up as much as he can and kisses my shoulder—which quickly turns into a bite. I should have known. I thrust harder into him, dislodging his mouth and drawing loud whimpers out of him.

He clings to the bedsheets, writhing and yes, making such beautiful sounds for me. Begging for me, calling for his Daddy to please fuck him harder.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything more beautiful than this.

I fuck him roughly, and somewhere along the way, his cock starts to harden again. I pinch the head of it, slowing down just long enough to torment him for a moment before starting my thrusts up again. “Beg me to come in you. Beg me to fill you,” I tell him, my voice gravelly with lust and need.

“Daddy, please, come inside me. Mark me. Claim me. Make me yours, Daddy,” Fox begs with a hoarse voice. His eyes meet mine, and I know he means every one of those words. He isn’t playing it up for me like he had during our first real meeting.

He wants me as badly as I want him.

He’d killed for me.

He’d had multiple opportunities to finish me off, but he’d chosen me, just as I’d chosen him.

I groan, and my next thrust makes me come deep inside of him. I fill him with my seed, throwing my head back as I feel the pleasure race through my body. It’s so much, too much, and I feel like I’m coming forever.

Fox kisses every part of me that he can reach, some of those kisses turning into bites. My neck, my shoulders, my jaw. I’m going to be bruised all over, marked as his just as much as he is mine.

When my pleasure finally subsides, I reluctantly pull out of him and drop down next to him. Fox immediately plasters himself against my front, as if he can’t stand to have any space between us.

I feel his semi-hard cock against my stomach. I could pull back and take care of it. I could pinch him and smack him and abuse him until he spills all over me. But I like that he’s like this, not even asking—satisfied because I’m satisfied—and I sigh in contentment as I keep him close to me with my arm around his waist.

“Are you all right?” I ask, reluctant to break the mood but wanting to be sure that he’s not tormented by what we’d done the night before. I need to know. I need to comfort him if he needs it. I can’t leave him miserable, without knowing whether he’s aching.

“Perfectly fine. Still hard.” Fox buries his head against my chest. “But if you mean about Corbin…” I feel his nails dig into my back. “I don’t know. He had photos of me on his PC. Like… sentimental photos. How can he have those when he fucking tried to blow me up to get rid of this loose end?”

I sigh, wanting to resurrect Corbin so I can beat the shit out of him all over again, so I can tell him more of what he did wrong to Fox. “I don’t know,” I say, and I really don’t. I was mafia-made, part of a family. I hold loyalty to those I feel deserve it—and I protect those who I value. Like Briar.

Like Fox.

“He was a piece of shit. He…” Fox takes a shuddering breath. “Fuck, don’t laugh, okay? But I was terrified, so I just… took his hand. When he said I could either go with him or end up splattered on the floor like the rest of my family. It’s so fucking stupid. He murdered them. And I just…”

“You were a kid,” I say, my voice as soothing as I can make it even though I’m practically roiling with rage inside at the idea of someone hurting my Fox. “It wasn’t stupid. It was survival.” I can’t say I wouldn’t have made the same decision as Fox.

“You would have just followed the guy who murdered your entire fucking family?” Fox lets out a half-manic laugh. “I had a sister too. I remember her even less than my brother. I think she had long hair? Maybe? She was younger than me. I think. And my brother was probably older. Because it’s the older siblings that protect the younger ones, right? And maybe my parents were all right. I don’t remember them being bad, but I don’t fucking remember any of them anyway.”

Fuck.

I don’t even know what to say.

“It came back to haunt him, eventually,” I say, thinking of Corbin’s dead body. “I don’t know, Fox. I was raised in violence, too. I lost…” My throat threatens to close up as I try to talk about who had previously been the most important person in my life. “I killed my father, too,” I admit after a moment.

“Yeah? Was he a piece of shit like Corbin?” Fox scoots back so he can look me in the eyes. His own are a bit red, but I don’t see any tears. His cock has gone soft by now too.

I bark out a bitter laugh. “You could say that,” I say, though I fall silent for a moment. “My… first love. First and only love.” Until you, I almost say, but I think it’s too soon for that. “My father was a homophobic piece of shit, yeah. I was stupid, and I decided I was coming out even though I knew better. I thought that if he met my boyfriend, he might… I don’t know.” I laugh again, though there’s still no humor in it. “I was a stupid kid too, Fox. I thought he’d just accept me, accept us, because I was his only kid. His only son. Except he didn’t.” I fall silent, unsure of how to continue even as the memories roll before my vision, reminding me of what it had been like to see his dead body on the floor.

Fox smiles bitterly. “So he kicked you out? Sounds like he was worse than Corbin! Corbin didn’t give a fuck who I fucked as long as I didn’t bring them home.”

“No,” I say slowly. “He didn’t kick me out. He killed Max when I was at work. Stalked him to where he lived, tortured him, finally ended it. Then went back home and acted like nothing happened.” Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I think about something I choose never to think about, but Fox deserves to know—especially after what he just shared with me. “When I found him… My father never had a chance against me. But it didn’t bring Max back. It just left me bitter and cold and empty… until Don Cresci found me.” I sigh. “But that’s another story entirely.”

For a while, Fox doesn’t say anything. I stroke his back, feeling strangely anxious about having shared something so intimate. Is he judging me, now? Or does he think my tragic tale is nothing compared to his?

“Glad you murdered him, then,” Fox finally says. “Although if he’d tried that on me… I’d have shot him right between the eyes before he could even blink. You don’t have to worry about anyone offing me. I can take care of myself.”

Surprisingly, his words settle some part of me that’s been anxious for so long. I’d always thought I could never have anyone of my own because it was too much of a risk. It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve done more than casual dating, and I haven’t dared do more than play with men at the club.

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