Mafia and Duty.

"Heirs"

—Jeon. — Joon's father finally spoke. Then he looked at me —Jeon. —He repeated.

I almost made a face of disgust. I hate being called by that last name, especially him.

—Congratulations —He said disdainfully —Sorry for not attending the celebration, but I had other matters to attend to.

I was tempted to laugh at the irony of his words, and that I'd heard that many times from his son. But I simply nodded.

—What are you doing here? —Joon asked bluntly. I really wanted to ask that too, but obviously I can't, and obviously the reason why.

—Heirs.

Clear. Concise. And obvious.

—And I told you it's not in the plans yet.

Joon's response made me want to leave. I simply didn't want to hear this argument about who has the biggest d**k. Especially not between father and son.

Even so, unfortunately for me, I had to be here.

Fuck. I'm too drunk for this. In fact, he too, because he drank my f*****g bottle.

Well, it wasn't mine. No, actually it was, screw it.

—And I told you there's no time left, you're 31. You need age and strength to train your heir like I did with you. —Well, I guess this is where I agree with Jeon for the first time, even though having a little monster isn't in my plans.

—There are gaps. There are still gaps and you kno- —But before Joon could continue speaking with the utmost seriousness, his father interrupted him.

—And you can fill them after you fill the only f*****g hole you have to fill, once or several times if necessary!

Is this when I throw up?

—I can't when there are bigger priorities to attend to first. If I'm weak, I can't just bring forth an heir. You know that.

I think it's the weakest excuse I've ever heard from him, no matter how valid it may be.

—If you don't do it, I will. You're my own flesh and blood, anyway. It would be yours regardless. —Jeon's face was damnably serene considering the outrageous thing he'd just said.

But what I didn't expect was Jonn's immediate response: —No. I'll do it. Today. Now go.

I don't know if what shocked me more was the fact that he gave in, the fact that he simply said he was going to f**k me today, or the calmness with which he said it. Or the vein in his neck that looks like it's about to burst and that I can see from here.

His father said nothing more; he knew Joon would keep his word. He always does. So he simply left the office, and I know he'll soon be far away from the mansion.

We remained silent. Uneasy. Sharp. Suffocating. I could only see his back and a small part of his profile. —Desk, —he said in an indisputable voice, pulling me out of my daze.

—Wait, what? You can't just-

—Desk. Now! —he shouted without looking at me.

I froze. I wasn't serious. Or was I? Not here. Not like this. Not now.

—Now! —I exclaimed when he shouted at me again. This time looking at me. With a voice deeper than I had ever heard him use.

I started trembling uncontrollably, but my feet were already moving to the desk automatically, still unsteady from the alcohol. The only sounds were the click of my heels on the black marble floor and the pounding of my damn heart in my ears.

I didn't sit down, I didn't lean on anything, I just stood there in front of him, not knowing what was happening.

No, I knew, I just didn't want to. I was afraid.

The memories returned like a sudden, damned storm. The screams. The sobs. The disdain. The pain. The damned pain.

No, I didn't want this, I couldn't. —Joon... —His name escaped my lips in a broken breath, like a plea, with a hope that shouldn't even exist. And I hadn't even noticed my tears until one trickled down my neck, making me shudder.

He was a few steps away from me, still rooted to the spot in front of the door. His breathing was ragged with anger at everything. His gaze was damned empty, dark... and tormented?

He didn't want this either. Obviously not, he detested me, he loathed me, and he made that clear from the beginning... he made it perfectly clear that night.

A child. Just a child. And I didn't even know why that hurt so much right now.

He kept staring at me until he exhaled sharply and cursed under his breath, grabbing his hair as if he wanted to rip his head off, turning away so he wouldn't have to look at me. —f**k. —That was all I heard before he basically lunged at me.

—Take this s**t off, —he growled, referring to my dress, but he was already tearing it himself from the neckline as if it were made of paper. Almost desperate. But resolute. Always resolute.

He didn't wait, he simply turned me around and with one hand on my head slammed me against the desk so roughly that my breasts exploded in pain and the impact of my face against it left me blind and deaf for a second.

I stirred, dazed. Feeling him move behind me, and through the ringing in my ears I could hear the clinking of his belt and his demanding voice —Still.

My shock vanished in an instant. But just as I was about to get up, I felt his hand grab my hair from the roots and his massive body pressed against mine. I could feel his hardness even through my clothes. —I told you to stay still. Don't make this harder, —he growled in my ear.

—Joon, please... —I sobbed.

He remained still. I could feel his hot breath and his rapid breathing against my ear.

I don't know how long he stayed there. We were both shaken up. There was no doubt about that.

With a harsh growl, he pulled away from me, only to turn me around and position me on the desk face up as if I weighed nothing.

I don't know what was happening; I no longer knew if the alcohol had driven me crazy, as if that were even possible. All I know is that when he gripped my thighs tightly, and I felt his mouth on my wretched, humiliating, and obvious wetness, a gasp of surprise and something else escaped me.

He didn't hesitate. He was devouring me. His tongue covered me completely, his lips, his entire mouth...

He wasn't biting, but I could feel his teeth because he was doing it desperately. Like he was starving. His nose pressed right up against mine, sniffing, breathing. Like an addict relapsing. But it wasn't his addiction, it never was, he never even tried it.

On our wedding night, I don't even get ready. He just drinks. Out of obligation. Out of duty. This is completely different.

I couldn't help it; my legs were trembling, my whole body shaking in a way I couldn't understand. Instinctively, my hips moved, lifting them, seeking more of his mouth. His response was to dig his fingers even deeper into my thighs and effortlessly keep me pressed against the desk.

His voice was a growl that echoed against my core —I told you. Stay still.

I couldn't help it. My moans were inevitable, mingling with the wet, disgusting sounds of his mouth devouring me alive. His grunts were like those of a ravenous animal. Turning my head around. Driving me insane.

His thumbs parted me like a curtain to give him a better view. He spat on me shamelessly. He sucked. He ate. He started biting. I almost started screaming. And that only encouraged him more.

I couldn't stand it. My whole body heated up, inside and out. I felt that delicious tingling in my belly, that delicious little ache in my core. I exploded. And I don't know if I was hearing things. But I swear I heard him moaning too, under the sound of mine.

His licks became strangely soft, almost reverent, though his hands still gripped me tightly. My vision blurred and my senses were completely out of sync.

What the hell is going on?