Page 43 of Stricken

"Which part?"

"The Italian one," he whispers, bringing his hand to my cheek. His knuckles brush over my skin but don't linger. That's enough to get me rattled. I'm still sore from all the adrenaline, still buzzing. My cock is aching, needing a release.

"Does that turn you on,il mio gattino?"

"It does."

That's all it takes. Our lips crash together, desperate. The confines of the car and the helmets make it awkward, but I don't care. I'm lost in the taste of him, the feel of his skin against my skin.

My hand finds its way to his thigh, inching higher. Vlad groans into my mouth as I palm him through the fabric of his racing suit.

"Fucking hell," he hisses, breaking the kiss. His fingers tangle in my hair, tugging gently. "You're playing with fire, Romeo."

I grin, continuing my ministrations. "I know how to handle it."

Vlad's eyes darken. "Are you certain?" He pulls me back in for another searing kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth with a possessiveness that makes me shudder. His hands slip down to cup my cock, to return the favor.

For a while, we keep on going, like teenagers who just discovered intimacy. And I think, perhaps for the both of us, this is a first. I think we were denied this pleasure then. That's why it feels so intense, years and years of repression finally becoming something so dangerous, so volatile. And can't bring myself to care about the consequences. At least not until Vlad pauses his hand job and tells me that we should finish it later.

"Are you serious right now?" I tip my chin down to my cock straining against the fabric of the suit.

"Very," he mutters, eyes half-closed.

"Fair enough, then you owe me for this," I supply.

He takes a deep breath. "Okay. You win." Then he pushes the door open and climbs out of the car.

A little later, when the sun has already made a good portion of its path across the sky and the shadows grew longer on the empty racetrack, Vlad and I stand beside the Aperta. He's traded his racing suit for an impeccable charcoal Brioni, while I've put back on my black slacks and my crisp shirt.

Vlad's eyes scan the perimeter before landing on me. "We need to talk about our... arrangement," he says, serious.

I raise an eyebrow and ask in a playful tone, "Is that what we're calling it now? I thought it was a one-night stand gone wrong."

He doesn't rise to the bait. "These meetings, they're too risky. We need a more secure location."

The playfulness drains from my body. "What are you suggesting?"

"I have an empty apartment," Vlad says, his expression unreadable. "It's private, secure. No prying eyes." Without waiting for my response, he reaches into his pocket. "Here." He presses something cold and metallic into my palm.

I look down. A key. Simple, unremarkable, yet it feels impossibly heavy in my hand. "You're trusting me with this?"

Vlad's eyes soften for a moment. "Trust is a rare commodity in our world, Romeo. Use it wisely."

I close my fingers around the key, feeling a mix of elation and dread. This gesture means something, something beyond our heated encounters and witty banter. It's an olive branch, a life jacket in the stormy seas we navigate.

But as I pocket the key, guilt gnaws at my insides. My family, my obligations—they suddenly loom like demons in the growing darkness. I'm keeping secrets from them, playing a reckless game. And for what? A man I barely know, who represents everything I should avoid?

"Grazie," I manage, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'll make sure to be discreet."

Vlad nods, his mask of cool detachment firmly back in place. But for a split second, I catch a flicker of something in his eyes–vulnerability, perhaps? Or is it just my imagination, seeing what I want to see?

I shift my weight, the gravel crunching beneath my feet.

"Vlad," I begin, hesitant. "I know we said we wouldn't mix business with pleasure… But I want to ask for a favor."

Suspicion crosses his stoic features. "I thought we agreed to keep that separate."

"Yes, I remember and I swear I didn't have an ulterior motive when I approached you back in LA or even here at the action. But I'm... I'm in over my head here. I'm not sure who else to ask."

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