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drefear · 9 months

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Hail to the King

Chapter 6: Nerve

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is the head of the biggest mafia family in Nueva York, scaring almost all of its citizens. Except you. And that’s exactly what he needs.

TW: orgasm denial, fingering, degradation, tension, slow burn, Miguel is a dick again.

Your eyes searched Miguel’s face as he hung up the phone and tossed it behind him onto his couch without breaking his eye contact with you. You went through when you’d just said to your cold-blooded killer of a boss.

You implied he had a small dick.

You were so dead.

His grip on your wrist tightened and his expression became practically violent, as if you could see the lust for murder growing in him.

“I told you to knock off that bratty attitude.” He hissed and your stomach dropped. “Now, I have to teach you a lesson.” “You’re on fucking crack if you think I’m going to be spoken to this way.” Your mouth spit out and your cheeks burned. You couldn’t hide it anymore, he was turning you on right now with how intimidating he was being, and you squeezed your thighs together while still trying to square your shoulders.

You’d never had such a raw attraction to someone like you did in this moment, which was crazy because you couldn’t stand Miguel. Your hoe-bag boss with countless lives he’d taken. You hated everything he was, everything he stood for. How could he make you so wet?

His lips turned to a scowl as you instinctively staggered backwards, knees wobbling like a baby horse learning to walk. He pulled your arm up over his shoulder so your chest pressed to his and you fell into him with no hope of escape, now putting all of your weight on him to not fall.

“I can see how much you like it when I reprimand you, how you get all flustered and red. So stop being a fucking pain in my ass or I’ll show you how red I can make your cheeks, and not the ones on that pretty fuckable face.”

Your eyes widened at his words and you moved so your noses were almost touching, a challenging gaze forming in your eyes.

“You think my face is fuckable?” You hinted and he growled in response.

“You-” He whirled you around and threw your body on the couch with the same amount of energy he used to toss his phone, like you weighted the same as the technology now lost to the floor. You bounced a bit and he moved to the end of his couch, grabbing your ankle and yanking your body haphazardly down to meet his, making you yelp out in surprise from the abrupt movement. “So frustration, watching you parade around all day in those tight fucking skirts and heels.” He huffed, flipping you over before you could respond. Kneeing halfway onto the couch, he placed his knee on the other side of your thighs and kept you locked between his legs. His hand slid up your back and he pulled at the soft hair at the nape of your neck. Your back arched so his chest was inches away from your back and he whispered in your ear.

“Say no right now, prove me wrong, and I’ll act like this never happened. Tell me you don’t want me to take you right here, right now, and I won’t.” His teeth grazed your skin and his breath was intoxicating against your throat, making you roll your shoulders to lean up into him more.

“Say you want this. I need to hear it or I’ll stop.” He concluded and you huffed, not wanting to say it out loud and give into him.

“Fine-” His hand loosened in your hair and you turned your head to the side to look at him, making him freeze.

“I-I want it!” You rushed out and pouted stubbornly. His lips curved into a large smile and he yanked your hair harder, smacking your ass so hard that you felt tears form in the corner of your eyes from the one hit. A second and a third came fast as he chuckled.

“Where are those wise-ass comments now? Nothing to say, brat?” He mocked you and you shook your head, trying to find some sort of come-back without sounding desperate. God, you needed him to touch you under your clothes, you needed to have him against you, skin to skin.

“F-Fuck you, O’Hara.” You mumbled out and he stopped, smirking.

“Is that an insult or are you telling me what you want?” He stayed with a smug expression on his face as his finger tugged aside your panties, thrusting into you with reckless abandon. You were more than wet enough for him to just finger-fuck you without any prep, but you weren’t expecting his digits to be so… large. Once again, you were reminded of how big he actually was.

“Come on, talk to me with that bitchy little mouth of yours, I wanna hear you bark more at me like a fucking dog.” He was enjoying making fun of you, enjoying having you so compliant for once. His hands moved against you with speed, making you see stars far faster than you wanted to admit. He groaned and slipped his finger out of you once more to continue assaulting your ass with a multitude of hard, painful smacks. You groaned when he shoved his finger inside, accompanied by another and not taking the time for you to get used to the stretch. You let out a guttural sound and he leaned down to whisper.

“Only well-behaved girls get my patience. You’ve made me mad, so you will take it and like it, no matter how hard and fast I fuck you.”

His words went straight to your throbbing clit, making your body shake as an orgasm was about to blind you from pleasure.

And then he stopped. He got off of you in a flash and you laid there, shaking as your high slowly dissipated. You looked up and saw him licking his fingers clean, a stoic expression on his face.

“Miguel, what the fuck?” You barked once more and he raised a brow, obviously entertained by your upset reaction.

“Did I say you could cum? Did you really think I’d let you cum after telling me you thought I had a small dick? No, not tonight. You get to go home and touch yourself to the idea of me fucking you, just like I have since you started running that nasty mouth of yours and bursting into my office.” He sat across from you now, stretching both arms over his chair and crossing a foot over his knee, showing off the boner he was rocking.

And holy fucking shit, he was huge. Almost painful to imagine, as if a tree was growing in his pants right now.

You felt yourself about to start drooling as you stared at his appendage without shame, then looking back at him with angry fire roaring in your eyes.

“You are the worst.”

“And yet here you are, craving my cock.” He shot back and you stood up, fixing your wrinkled clothing and storming towards his elevator.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t wear any underwear,” He called and you shot him a look of disbelief before he continued, “follow orders, and maybe I’ll let you cum.”

“I’m not a fucking animal, jackass, I don’t follow the orders of you.” And with those words, you were gone. Slamming your finger into the lobby button, you folded your arms and immediately regretted that decision when your arm brushed against your hard, sensitive nipples.

This sucked.

The next day was annoying. Miguel didn’t call you once, didn’t even ride with you to work.

Sitting in your office, you were doing bland, nothing paperwork when it was suddenly time for lunch, so you messaged Lyla and Jess to see if they wanted to get something together. Jess was busy, but Lyla immediately agreed.

“What’s with your face?” She asked as you two waited in line for salads at some health food restaurant.

“My face?”

“You’re all weird right now.” She poked your shoulder as you stepped forward in line.

“Miguel makes me want to blow my fucking brains out. Everything is a secret or an issue, or a whore in his office or-”

“What?” She gave you a look of confusion as you shook your head, relenting the topic and grabbing a salad bowl. “Listen, the big guy is a horn dog, I know that for sure, but he doesn’t normally have sex in the office. It’s a once a week thing, most of the time. He’s a workaholic, he doesn’t have time during the day to have sex.”

Lyla’s words echoed in your head for a second and your blank face made her stop pouring her dressing to raise her brows. “How often do you find him having sex here?”

“Once a day. At least.” You speak and check your watch, then pulling out your phone and scrolling through the schedule. “He has it scheduled for ten minutes from now.”

“He schedules it?” She smiled and started laughing. “Oh, I need to see this.”

“He says that you hire women who are married to deter him from sleepin with them.” You stated and waited for her to answer, but she just laughed. “Well- yes and no. It definitely helps him turn them down when they ask him to hook up or make moves on him, but it’s also because he doesn’t normally like sharing any woman he sleeps with. He hates the idea of her being in bed with any other guys-” She stops talking and thinks, then smiling again. “So that’s what he’s up to.”

“What?” You ask again and she just bounces on her toes a bit, excited.

“I have an idea and you’re gonna hate it, but I’m not letting you out of it.” She smirks and begins pressing buttons on her holographic watch, tapping Miguel’s name and watching the camera’s poop up. It's a live feed of his office.

“Lyla, he’s gonna kill us-”

“Not if he doesn’t find out.” She answers and stares at the tiny floating screen. Your eyes are glued to it as well, watching him bring the random woman into his office and lock the door. You both watch as he begins to maneuver her and finger her a bit, bending her over his desk and pushing her skirt above her hips. As he’s about to unzip his pants, Lyla taps his name below the screen and speaks.

“Miguel, you’ve got a visitor on the ground level. Something about hitting your car?” She says into the speaker of his cameras, his eyes immediately becoming enraged and buckling his pants once more, stomping out without even helping the poor girl on his desk. Lyla rushes you to the elevator and hits his floor, watching him move through the cameras and see him getting into the opposite side elevator, before yanking your hand and pulling you into your own office. “He won’t even think of me hiding here this time.”

“This time?” You ask, still out of breath from how fast the small girl walks.

“Yeah, I used to do this to him all the time, but not while he was fucking around with the marketting team. I usually pranked him when he was trying to have lunch or cleaning his guns. Ya know, that mundane stuff. He hates being interrupted.” Lyla rambles on and you just nod.

“Is he… gonna be mad at us?”

“Yeah, for an hour or two, but then he’ll get some phone call to be mad at and he’ll forget it even happened.” She shrugged and sat on your desk. You sank into your computer chair and closed your eyes before you heard the door swing open, making you jump and Lyla smile.

“Took you longer than usual.” Lyla spoke and jumped up, seeing Miguel with his chest heaving and eyes piercing past Lyla into you. “Distracted, boss man?” She teased and he shot her a glare before looking back at you. This made your back straighten up, crossing your legs. This made his eyes flicker between your pressed thighs and your nervous eyes.

“Lyla, leave us alone.”

“It was my idea, I swear! She just had your schedule and-”

“I said go.” He repeated without even glancing at her, to which she gave you a defeated look and walked out. As the door shut behind her, you jumped a bit and felt your heart sink at the silence that followed.

“Did you not understand what I said yesterday?”

“It wasn’t my idea, I swear.”

“You told her about the schedule, didn’t you?” He asked and you just nodded, shrinking under his towering form as he made his way closer to you. Your chair faced forward as he approached you from the side of your desk, avoiding looking at him now, but that made him even more irate. He spun your chair to face him and kept his hand on the back of the headrest, caging you in.

“You did this on purpose.”

“No! It wasn’t even my fault, you heard her say that-”

“She’ll say anything for those she wants to protect.” He answers and his eyes turn to slits as he leans further down. “And you love being a pain in my ass, interrupting me, frustrating me.”

The gravel of his voice hit you, the familiar warmth beginning to make an appearance in your belly, making your breathing erratic as he searched your face for something. He knew what he was doing to you, he saw it as your hands gripped the sides of his chair while you tried not to break eye contact with him.

This was a battle, a challenge of who could be in control. You defied him constantly, made him angry and made his dick hard with the way you always talked back. He was the most dangerous man in Nueva York, and you had the nerve to provoke him every time he directed you or reprimanded you. All for your own good, too, but you couldn’t just follow his orders, could you?

“Maybe you need a different type of lesson.”

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