Page 35 of The Club

On his back the, design flares out in the vague shape of wings.

Oh, Angel. What a twisted sense of beauty. Why do you have to make me want you like this?

My hard cock is hidden by the compression shorts I’m wearing under my dress pants. But that’s like any mask. It may fool others, it may give the appearance that I want, but I know the truth.

I’m hard for him. Always.

I step close behind him and reach around to unbutton and unzip his pants. Anger sizzles through my veins at the memory of someone else doing this in the alley. He’s wearing boxer briefs tonight instead of a g-string. I strip him bare.

His cock hangs fat and unstirred over his balls. Even unaroused, it’s beautiful. I want to touch him, but I don’t.

He starts waking up as I return to the front of him. His head lifts. His face is bruised, his lip split. His eyes are bleary. He’s still beautiful.

He gets his feet somewhat under himself, taking some of his weight off the cuffs.

“Fuuuu,” he slurs.

I lean back against the wall and cross my arms. “Did you want them to rape you?”

He squints at me.

“No one touches you but me. I told you that.”

“Where have you been?” he asks, speaking slowly.

“Thinking.”

He sways. Without the shackles, he would fall. “About sucking me off?”

Ice slides down my spine. Yes, I’ve been thinking about that. How I took his hard cock into my mouth, felt him thrust into me. How I listened to him moan. How I moaned too as I stroked myself. How I came as soon as I felt his cock pulse in my mouth and tasted his cum.

I tell him, “I’ve been thinking about killing you.”

He swallows hard. His thoughts are slow from the drugging, but he pulls them together enough to say, “Because you want me.”

He’s probably too drugged to see how I flinch, but I do—because, yes, that’s exactly it.

It was one thing to admit that before we fucked in his play room. It had a limited meaning there. The problem is that here, now, it’s bigger, more encompassing.

I really, really want him.

That’s why I focused on him instead of Dante, who was actually the one that put the final bullet in my father’s head. And I’m glad he did. I’m glad he and Rafael attacked that night. And I don’t actually care about the appearance of getting revenge. It was only ever an excuse to approach Rafael.

But ever since I started shit with him, I’ve felt off balance. I haven’t felt like myself.

And I don’t like panicking. I know that’s what happened after I sucked him off. I panicked. I wasn’t even thinking about anything specific. I simply felt a deep terror. I don’t know where it came from. My father. The Island.

Or from myself—because I want Rafael so much. Because I felt in that moment how much power he could have over me.

That’s why I have to do this.

He’s gorgeous.

Why the hell did Rocco say that?

Rafael’s right leg straightens then gives out. His wrists pull against the cuffs.

I push away from the wall and walk across the cell to him. I step close, right against his naked body. He leans into me as I take some of his weight. His head bows until his face rests in the crook of my neck. He sighs, relaxing against me. His breath tickles warmly against my neck.

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