Page 36 of Stricken

"You made it, Hot Shot," I say with a smile, drinking in the sight of him.

"I keep my word," he replies, expression unreadable, maybe a little bit conceited too.

"So I see." But as he moves into the light, my relief curdles into concern. Angry purple bruises mar the column of his throat like a sudden reminder of the dangers that stalk us both.

I cross the room, meeting him halfway. "What happened here?" My fingers reach out, hovering just above the discolored skin.

Vlad's jaw tightens for a moment. "It's nothing," he says, voice gruff as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. "Just business gone wrong."

"Business that leaves marks like that?" I press, gently brushing my fingertips against his neck. He flinches almost imperceptibly, but I catch it. "We have people for that."

"Sometimes it's best to do it yourself not to screw it up."

"You know you can talk to me," I offer. I don't know why I do that. People usually say this in such situations. Normal people.

His eyes flash. "Why? So you can add it to your family's dossier on me?"

The accusation stings, but I don't back down. "That's fair. But that's not the reason I said that."

"Then what is it?" He continues to pop the buttons on his shirt open, revealing his chest, then his abdomen. All while keeping me hostage with his stare.

The sight of him still fully dressed with his body so boldly on display has my cock straining against my slacks.

"Not what you think,gattino," I murmur, my hand moving from his neck to cup his face and unexpectedly he tilts his head into my touch.

The room fills like a coal chamber all of a sudden, even as a voice in the back of my mind screams about divided loyalties and the precarious balance of power between our families.

None of it matters this instant.

Vlad's eyes darken. "You talk too much, Romeo."

Without warning, he surges forward, capturing my lips with his. His hands, warm and urgent, fumble with my belt buckle.

I gasp against his mouth as desire floods my veins. "And you—"

"Shut up," he growls, nipping at my lower lip. "I need... I can't think right now. Just let me..."

And I do. I let him own me. Because I know how it is, I know what it's like to taste desperation, to be a man drowning in his own demons and clinging to the nearest lifeline, even if that lifeline makes no sense.

Hands and fingers work the rest of the buttons and zippers. Sleeves slip down muscular arms. Then things become muddy—the remaining clothes are hitting the floor in a frenzied rush. Suddenly, I realize we are both naked. Vlad's skin is feverish under my hands, marked by a variety of fresh bruises he clearly doesn't want to discuss. Still, the sight has my blood boiling. It shouldn't. But it does. Whoever did this. I want to snap that person's neck.

I trace the tattoo on his chest just like I've done a few times before. And again, I don't ask what the strange letters mean.

He shoves me roughly onto the bed. "Touch me," he demands, straddling my hips. His cock, hard and leaking, brushes against mine, sending sparks of electricity up my spine and into limbs.

I obey, wrapping my hand around both of us. Vlad's head falls back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat. The sight of him—so powerful, dangerous coming undone above me—nearly pushes me over the edge.

"Fuck," I hiss, increasing my pace. "You're so goddamn handsome like this."

Vlad's only response is to thrust harder into my fist, his breathing ragged. It's fast and needy today, without any extras. I can feel the tension coiling in his body, see it in the tightening of the muscles and the shift in his expression. When he comes, it's with a strangled cry that sounds almost like pain.

And then every single line on his face is relaxed, jaw slacked. Almost as if the walls are gone. The warmth of his release spilling over my hand triggers my own climax. My vision whites out as pleasure rushes through me.

For a second, we're suspended in this blissful oblivion, the burden of our respective worlds temporarily lifted. But as our breathing slows, reality creeps back in. And when Vlad finally rolls off me, his face once again is an unreadable mask.

We are quiet and the room feels stuffy and I'm finding it hard to get oxygen into my lungs.

Wordlessly, Vlad nudges me toward the edge of the bed and then slides from it. I do as he says without asking, cum still on my chest and chin.And I'm fucking loving it.

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