Chapter 7 Tension that burns

‎After taking my bath, I lay on my bed, my thoughts drifting back to what my father had said earlier. The words kept echoing, louder than I wanted to admit. I remembered when I turned five — that was the turning point. The moment my childhood was stolen and replaced with relentless drills and harsh expectations.

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‎*“You're the first son of the Romeros. The heir. You can’t afford to be weak.”*

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‎From that day, I stopped going to school. I stopped playing with kids my age. Every time my father caught me laughing or even breathing too close to Amanda, he’d snap, shouting that *"men don't play."* I couldn’t even watch movies with my siblings without being scolded.

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‎I know I’m supposed to be downstairs right now, but I refuse to let him control me — not today. My father already plays enough of a role in shaping this life I didn’t ask for. I'm not a toy. I'm Ian Romero. The most feared mafia gang leader in Italy. The king of the underground.

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‎A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. I quickly grabbed a book from the nightstand, pretending to read.

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‎“Come in,” I said, expecting it to be Sandra with my dinner.

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‎Instead, it was Alexander.

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‎He walked in holding a tray with one hand, the other effortlessly pulling the side table closer to the bed. I shifted on the mattress as a strange feeling took hold of me again. One I still hadn’t learned to control.

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‎He set the tray down and looked at me, veins dancing along his arm. I gulped. *How did he move that table so easily with one hand?*

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‎“Since you chose not to come downstairs, I brought your food up here,” he said calmly.

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‎I sat up properly, moving behind the table and starting to eat. He smirked, eyes flickering over me like he was amused.

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‎“Looks like you’re learning,” he said, casually picking up the book I had been pretending to read and walking over to the sofa.

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‎When I finished eating, he quietly took the tray and stepped out. I exhaled — only then realizing I had been holding my breath.

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‎Moments later, the door creaked open again.

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‎Alexander entered, dragging the table back to its original position. But then, he didn’t stop. He walked toward me — slow, intentional, like a predator stalking prey. My throat tightened.

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‎He reached the bed and, without a word, grabbed my legs and repositioned me so I was sitting on the edge. He placed both hands on either side of me, leaning in until our eyes met.

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‎“What’s your last name?” I blurted, nervousness making my voice crack.

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‎He smirked. “Now my last name is important?”

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‎“Y–Yes,” I stammered.

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‎“Volkov,” he said. “Alexander Volkov.”

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‎The name alone sent a chill down my spine.

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‎He tilted his head. “Now, Ian, why did you disobey me? I’ve been trying to be... lenient with you.”

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‎His tone dropped, calm but commanding. “So tell me — what should I do with you?”

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‎I looked up at him, heart pounding. My mouth opened before my brain caught up. “...F–fuck me.”

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‎He paused, eyes narrowing. “What?”

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‎I swallowed hard. I... I want this feeling to stop. I thought maybe... maybe it’s like what they call sexual tension. Maybe this is how it ends.

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‎He studied me. His smirk faded into something more unreadable.

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‎“Is this how you ask every guy you see at the club for sex?”

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‎“No i don't,” I whispered.

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‎“Good.” His voice softened, but the authority never left. “Then maybe... we do this properly.”

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‎He reached up, brushing his knuckles down my cheek. The warmth of his skin left a trail of sparks, and I couldn’t look away.

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‎His lips crashed against mine in a rough, yet tender kiss. Sparks ignited through my body, an unfamiliar sensation swirling in my stomach. My toes curled from the sheer pleasure. Oh god—this was how kissing felt? I should've experienced this sooner. He nipped at my bottom lip, eliciting a moan from me. Then his tongue delved into my mouth, massaging my taste buds. He tasted like cigarettes—intoxicating.

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‎Alex pulled back, trailing kisses down my neck. "Hphm," I moaned as he sucked at the sensitive skin, leaving me panting and needy. He tugged at my shirt, pushing me down onto the bed. His strong body hovered over mine, his hands roaming my chest and making me shudder beneath him.

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‎"Fuck, Ian—you don't know what you just asked for. No going back now tiger" he growled, his voice sending shivers down my spine. His lips closed around one of my nipples, flicking his tongue over it before sucking hard. I writhed beneath him, arching my back for more. He switched to the other nipple, making me whimper in pleasure. Before I could process it, he yanked down my sweatpants and underwear in one swift motion, leaving me completely bare and vulnerable.

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‎"See, you're ready for it," he rumbled, his breath hot against my skin. I felt something wet dripping from my dick and asshole. His lips met mine again, kissing me deeply like he wanted to memorize every inch of my mouth. Then he started assaulting my nipples once more, making my breath hitch.

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‎"Alex!" I cried out, my hands fisting in his hair as I held on for dear life. Something intense was building in my core. My dick throbbed and then suddenly, white liquid spilled from it. "Ahhh!" I threw my head back, drowning in ecstasy. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath.

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‎I blinked my eyes open to find Alex staring at me, a smirk on his face.

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‎"Did you just cum?" he asked, an amused glint in his eyes. I felt heat rush to my cheeks. Fuck—was I really blushing right now?

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‎"Cause we're just getting started," he said with a flirtatious smile. Shit—what have I gotten myself into?

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