Page 1 of Not Taken

CHAPTER ONE

ELI

Igasped as he slammed my back against the solid concrete wall. Every part of my body ached, but I didn't care as long as he was touching me.

It was fast and dirty and so wild that all I could hear were our pants and needy moans in the dim light as he tore at me.

"You are such a fucking piece of shit," Caleb growled into my mouth, tongue thrusting against mine as he went for me. I didn’t think my cock could get any stiffer, until he grabbed my balls, squeezing so hard stars burst behind my eyes.

That was what I needed.

We spent an hour beating the shit out of each other in the boxing ring on the other side of the door before it became too much. Though it was foreplay compared to what came next.

Caleb dragged me into the dirty broom closet we used to fuck. We met on the underground fighting circuits, laying into each other once a week, throwing all our hate at each other until Caleb took what he wanted, and fucked me into submission.

It was the best way to gain access to his family.

Eighteen months later, and the only thing that changed was my position. Instead of some guy fighting for money in black market gambling dens, I'd been invited to serve as a bodyguard at the main Donelli compound in Tucson, giving Caleb a backstage pass to my ass.

My back arched instantly, and he pressed his teeth against my neck, his short hair rough against my cheek, biting me before he ripped his nails up my bare thigh. He found the hem of my gym shorts, tugging before shoving his palm against my cock.

"Look at you, you little bitch. You're already so fucking hard and I haven't even touched your ass."

His tongue scoured the bite like he was feasting on me. All I could do was wildly pound into him as my blunt fingers dug into the thick muscle of the arm that pinned my waist to the wall. He bore down on me, keeping me fixed as he drew a line up to my ear with his lips.

Both of us had cuts all over our bodies, along with fresh bruises and fucked up knuckles, still bleeding in our frenzy. We both wore gym shorts, and were already so hot that our blood and sweat mixed as we writhed together.

A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, covered in cobwebs, along with the dust that blanketed the thin metal shelves lining the small room. The only place that was clean was the wall Caleb and I fucked against every day.

It was easy to get away with it. Other guys used the gym, but no one had looked at the cleaning supplies for months. Tucked away in a dark corridor, the freezing closet was the perfect place to exhibit our rage.

“You're such a fucking slut, Eli,” Caleb said before he bit my earlobe. I cried out in pain, though it only made me harder. I needed his hate to keep me sane.

He gripped me tightly, the harsh sting of tension as he moulded his fingers around my cock nearly had me coming.

"This is what you want, isn't it?” he said, a sneer twisting his voice. “This is why you sucked my cock last night? So I'd treat you like a fucking prize?"

What I wanted was him. With every furious second, he tore me apart and threw me back together again. I was his to shape, to fuck with, however he wanted.

That’s why I got down on my knees for him last night. Because he was one of two things that made me feel as if I was worth something in this dark world. Killing his family wasn't enough, I needed pain.

I was meant to be his bodyguard. I was supposed to protect him. But I left for three days on a job for Caleb's father, the head of the family, Sam Donelli. I got back last night. Before that, I hadn't left Caleb for more than a day since I’d been assigned to guard him six months ago.

Undercover didn’t mean fucking the son of your main target. It didn't mean picking off members of the Donelli family when I had the chance. And it didn't mean lying to my handlers so I could stay undercover longer and add more tallys to my scorecard as I murdered each Donelli in cold blood.

I had to take the job. Not just to earn Sam Donelli's trust, but so I could get to Carlos Donelli; Sam's brother, the head of the Donelli branch in Phoenix, and the man who murdered my best friend.

His drug problem made it a simple task. All I had to do was inject him with enough heroin to kill a gorilla and sit as he wheezed, struggling, until silence took him. I had to murder his bodyguard to get to him, but it was a quick slash across the throat and he went down. It had been five months since I’d killed a Donelli before I left. My body was singing with a mix of pure elation and numb grief at finally watching him die, and aching loneliness over how deeply I missed my friend.

Which was why, as soon I got back, I dragged Caleb into our shitty broom closet and fell to my knees just to taste him again.

I jolted under him as he squeezed at my cock, nearly destroying me with another harsh bite to my neck. The pain was a relief burning through me, and I grit my teeth, thrusting into Caleb’s hand as he moaned against me. I was so hot and hard that I didn't care how desperate I sounded.

"I sucked your cock so I could see what a weak ass little bitch you are after all,” I gasped as he shoved his knee between my thighs, opening me up for him.

He paused against me, and I knew I was in for it. My body responded, all my muscles tightening as I waited to see how he would react. Not just with his rock solid cock, flush against my thigh, but his anger. It beat off of him like a furious drum, and I drew it in, like I had with every drop of his cum last night.

He pulled back, rising above me. He had at least half a foot on me, but in the ring, I was faster, more precise. Caleb swore he didn't need a bodyguard, though I won most of our fights unless he got a punch in quickly.

---