The Arrangement: An Age Gap, Mafia Romance (Silver Fox Daddies)
The Arrangement: Chapter 16

As we stride through the grandiose halls of my home, I catch glimpses of surprise and admiration in Tory’s eyes. Her curiosity piques as we move deeper into the house.

‘So all this room for just you and your daughter?’ she inquires, scanning the surroundings that likely seem worlds apart from what she’s accustomed to.

‘Not exactly,’ I reply, a trace of warmth seeping into my voice. ‘Irina, our live-in nanny, lives here as well, though they are both out at the moment.’

The mention of my daughter and a nanny sparks a reaction in Tory. She hesitates, then ventures, ‘It’s kind of hard to picture you as a dad.’ She hurries to clarify, her gaze dropping to my hands—hands that have known violence. ‘I mean no offense. It’s just that…’

I understand the unspoken words hanging between us. The hands she’s looking at have protected, fought, and done what was necessary to keep my world intact. But they’re also the hands that hold my daughter close, wipe away her tears, and carry her when she’s too tired to walk.

‘No offense taken,’ I assure her, catching her gaze with my own. ‘There’s more to me than meets the eye, Tory. Being a father is the most important part of who I am.’

The moment feels significant, a bridge of understanding being cautiously constructed between us. It’s clear that Tory’s view of me is evolving, grappling with the complexities of a man who operates in the shadows yet shines brightest in the light of his daughter’s love.

As we continue the tour, I’m acutely aware of the shift in the air, the subtle dance of revelations and realizations playing out between us. Tory’s presence in the heart of my home feels like a step into uncharted territory—a blending of worlds that until now I kept meticulously separate.

Once we’re settled in the expansive confines of my study, a room that’s seen many a late night and early morning, I offer Tory a drink.

‘Water okay?’ I ask, already heading towards the decanter to pour two glasses.

‘Water’s fine,’ she confirms, her voice steady, betraying none of the whirlwind I suspect is tearing through her thoughts. I nod, mirroring her choice, and hand her a glass before taking my seat opposite her.

The wingback chairs, usually reserved for solitary reflections or intense discussions, now frame this unexpected dialogue between us.

I’m well aware of what needs to be said, the assurances I must give to quell the storm I’ve unwittingly drawn her into. But replaceing the right words feels like navigating a minefield, especially with Tory sitting there, an image of casual allure in her tight jeans and form-fitting top. The seriousness of our conversation wars with the distraction she presents.

Part of me wants to take her, to ravage her once again but fully this time, to bite her neck, to claim her. But I quell the animal urges raging in me. I might be in the mood, but no doubt she’s still scared after what happened to her.

‘I want you to know,’ I begin, steeling myself for the conversation ahead, ‘you won’t have to deal with Igor or Aleksey again. They’ll stay out of your life.’

Tory listens, her expression a duality of skepticism and hope. The silence stretches between us before she voices a concern that’s clearly been weighing on her. ‘Maksim, I’m not sure I can live in your world. It’s too much.’

‘You don’t have to live my life to be with me,’ I reply, earnestness coloring my tone. ‘All I ask is for a chance to show you that what we could have can stand apart from the chaos.’

The silence is thick with Tory’s doubts—about me, my life, and what it means for her. But deep down, I know she’s the one, even if it’s too soon to say it out loud. That certainty is like a pulse inside me, strong and undeniable.

She shifts in her seat, her eyes flicking toward the fire. She wrings her hands, and I can sense there is much on her mind, much she doesn’t know how to even begin to say.

I lean over and take her hand. The sensation of her skin against mine is electrifying, as always. My heart beats faster as I hold her small palm in mine.

God, the things I want to do to her.

“Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Where to even start?” She brings her gaze to mine. “You’re a mobster. How about starting there?”

“I am. I’m a criminal.”

Her eyes flash, suggesting she hadn’t expected me to be so straightforward. If her ex is any indication, she’s likely used to deceit.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. When I was dating Ned, I knew he was a crook, a bad guy. But I guess I was able to write it off, like it was some little quirk, or a hobby or something. I knew he wasn’t big time. Didn’t hurt people.”

I say nothing, letting her say everything she needs to say.

“But you… you’re not some guy who runs favors for the mob for a little extra cash and some bragging rights. You’re clearly much more involved than that.” Her gaze drifts over the room, as if my life can be summed up by the wealth that surrounds us.

“I suppose you could say that.”

“And I’m guessing you’re in it for life. Not like Ned.”

Ned had been in it for life, in a matter of speaking. But I understand her point.

“Yes. Ever since I was a boy in Moscow. This is the only world I’ve known.”

“And what’s going to happen? Where is this career of yours going to end up?”

She has no idea what she’s broached with this topic. The question of just who is to take the reins of the Bratva when my father passes or steps down is a point of contention in the family. I, as the eldest, am the front-runner. Not to mention the little detail that I can actually run a business, unlike Aleksey.

Aleksey knows this, knows that it’s only a matter of time until my father announces me as the heir. But until then, he’s keeping his mouth shut – one of the few wise decisions he’s ever made. But there’s no doubt that the fallout will be intense when my father finally makes the call. My half-brother isn’t the type of man to take bad news well.

But Tory doesn’t need to know any of this. It’s “inside baseball,” as the Americans like to say.

“It’s not official yet,” I say. “But my father is likely to name me the heir. He’s not exactly the retiring type, however. So it will be a good long while until I take the reins.”

She shifts in her seat. “Then you’re going to be the boss.”

“I’m going to be the boss.”

A sigh. “You know, there’s a time when the idea of dating the head of the Russian mob would’ve been a hell of a turn-on. But now that I’m looking down the barrel of it…” she trails off.

I can’t resist. “You mean it’s not a turn-on?” I follow my words with a small smile.

Her eyes flash, her mouth forming a hard line. “That’s not the point!”

I chuckle. “I see what you’re saying. Life with me would be outside of the law.”

“Right.”

“It’s a risk, I’m not going to lie. I’ve put in my time, however, paid my dues. My hands-on days are long behind me. Day to day, my life is more like that of a businessman.”

“Except when you’re shaking down people for money.”

“The personal touch is occasionally necessary.”

She bites her lower lip in thought, and damned if it isn’t sexy as hell.

“Hands on… does that mean you’ve killed people?” She challenges me with her gaze.

“I appreciate directness.” But how to reply to her question? The answer is yes, of course. The objective in this conversation is not to scare her, however. “Let’s just say my past is long behind me.”

She shifts in her seat. Tory’s a smart woman; the implication in my phrasing is obvious.

“Right. Okay.” She’s processing. I say nothing.

“The way we met,” I went on. “That’s the most direct I am these days. I typically have underlings handle such matters, but now and then the hand of the vor can expedite certain processes.”

Another sigh, another shake of her head. After a few beats, she gets up and makes her way over to the fire, the glass of water held by the tips of her fingers. She places her other hand on the mantle.

“I just need to know that I’m going to be safe,” she says finally. “I can’t be involved with a man who makes it necessary to be looking over my shoulder constantly.”

I rise, stepping over to her where she stands before the fire. Tory looks so small, so delicate, so innocent. It’s strange – I’ve only known her strength, which she has in abundance. Seeing her like that stirs something in me, something fierce and protective.

I place my hand on her chin, turning her toward me. ‘I swear, Tory.’ The words are a whisper against her lips, a vow made in the most intimate of whispers. ‘I’ll protect you. As long as you’re in my life, in this world, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. No matter what.”

The urge to kiss her is overwhelming, a yearning that’s become impossible to ignore. Despite every intention to keep a sliver of distance, to maintain some semblance of restraint, it all crumbles the moment our eyes lock. I lean in, the space between us charged with a magnetic pull that neither of us can deny.

So I don’t resist any longer.

Our lips meet in a kiss that’s both a promise and a surrender. It’s gentle at first, an exploration. But quickly, it deepens, fueled by the emotions swirling between us. Tory responds with equal fervor, her arms wrapping around me, pulling me closer.

She tastes like heaven, her tongue moving over mine, her flavor intoxicating. My hands fall to her hips, and I squeeze the roundness of her curves, pulling her against my hardness. She gasps as she feels my throbbing erection. I’m stiff as steel, my cock grinding against her thigh as I show her how much I want her without speaking the words.

We deepen the kiss into something more profound and primal, our bodies and souls intertwining and taking over. There is no room for reason here. No point. I almost rip the shirt off her, the firelight flickering against her perfect body. I trail wet kisses down her neck, nipping with my teeth along the way, licking… tasting everything. She resists nothing, instead drawing closer to me with every bite that I take. Her skin is soft and warm as my hands travel up her bare lower back, coming to a stop at the clasp of her bra. I unhook it quickly and slide the straps down her lovely shoulders, releasing a pair full, gorgeous breasts. A flashback of her fingers pinching them adds gasoline to the inner fire already making my pants too tight for my comfort.

I step back and take in the sight of her topless. Her tits are perfect, round and pert, her nipples rose-pink. Leaning down, I take one into my mouth, teasing it with my tongue.

“Oh… fuck yes,” she moans, throwing her head back and holding my head in place.

I make a mental note to make sure I explore every bit of her body in this fashion.

I rise again, gazing at her. All I want is to claim her, to show her how much I want to make her mine, all mine.

Now’s not the time for such predilections, I realize. Just as Tory needs to be eased into my life as a vor, she’ll need to be eased into my tastes in the bedroom.

All the same, I can’t resist giving in, just a little.

“Take off your jeans.” My words come out in a stern command.

Her eyes flash. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Bossy.”

“Comes with the territory. You know the drill, already, baby.”

“Yes, sir…” A small smirk crosses her lips. But as her hands move to the front of her jeans, I know I’ve gotten my way.

I always do.

Her eyes on mine, she slowly undoes the button of her jeans, then the zipper. Her hands move to her sides, and she begins shimmying down the skin-tight denim, revealing the black panties underneath. I watch her slowly, watch her expose more of her ripe, flawless legs.

The jeans are soon at her ankles, and she steps out of them, moving closer to me.

My blood simmers, my hands clenching and unclenching at the sight of Tory nearly nude before me. It takes all the restraint I have to maintain my composure. I can’t rush it like that first night. No, this conquest needs to be methodical. Calculated. If only my cock would listen. It’s aching for her.

Part of me wants to totally let go, to pounce on her like the animal I feel like in those moments.

“Get on your knees.”

She bites her lip again, as if she wants to throw some sass in my direction, but she doesn’t. Instead, she obeys my command, dropping to her knees in front of me. She looks up, and I once more take her chin into my hand.

“Open my pants.”

Tory’s gaze falls to my cock, my hardness tenting the fabric of my slacks. She places her hand on me, moving her fingertips slowly over my length, as if she wants to make sure it’s actually there. Then she opens my pants, the metal of my buckle clanging just a bit as she undoes it, then my button, then my zipper. She tugs down the black, skin-tight fabric of my boxer-briefs, my cock leaping out in front of her.

She licks her lips.

“Tell me,” I say, taking her chin and tilting her head up to me. “How does the sight of my cock make you feel? Does it make you wet?”

She swallows, her gaze drifting down to my manhood.

“Keep your eyes on me.”

She obeys.

“Now, tell me.”

“Yes, it makes me wet.”

“How wet.”

“Really fucking wet, Max. I’ve been thinking about it since that night.”

“Reach down. Find out how wet it’s made you.”

Her hand drifts down to the waist band of her panties. I watch carefully as her fingers disappear beneath the black fabric. Soon her hand is between her legs.

“Tell me.”

“I’m soaked for you.”

“Good. Now, keep your hand there, and give me what we both want.”

She returns her attention to my cock, her hand still working between her thighs. She moans slightly, closing her eyes for a moment before refocusing her attention. Tory moves her lips closer, grasping the base of my cock with one hand and placing her lips at the head.

A lick begins the process, gentle but firm enough to send a flash of pleasure up and down my length. Soon enough, she loosens her jaw and starts taking me in, tongue gliding along in the process and using a little more pressure each time, as if she knows just what I like.

I place my hand on her cheek, her skin soft and smooth and cool, guiding her down gently. She complies with my wordless instruction, opening her mouth and letting me go deeper. My head pokes the back of her throat, the warm wetness causing the veins along my shaft to twitch against her tongue. What an incredible feeling…

Part of me wants to bring her down further, but I resist. A mere taste is enough for now.

She wraps her lips around my cock, her tongue caressing my head with swirling motions. Tasting. Exploring. Enjoying the taste of precum to the fullest.

“Look up at me.”

Tory does, the sight of her mouth full of me just perfect. Her lips slide back up, then down again. The soft sucking noises of her at work blend with the crackle of the fire, the pleasure becoming more insistent.

Her hand follows her mouth along my length, and I can feel the stirrings of an impending orgasm, each stroke threatening to break me. But I’m not ready to be done so soon. I stop her, Tory’s eyes flicking back to me.

“Get up. Turn around.”

She rises, licking her lips. Stepping over to the mantle and grasping it with both hands, she gives me a ravenous look over the shoulder. It’s enough to ignite my core and sent my heart galloping. She was made for me. Body and soul, she was designed for me. The sight of her splendid ass spreading for me, her panties glimmering with liquid arousal, as if begging me to take her, it’s too much to bear.

But I need to keep it together. For all the edging I put her through that first night, Tory has earned herself the ultimate reward, and I’m going to give it to her, inch by inch, one orgasm at a time.

“Good girl.”