Page 104 of His Enforcer

“You did so good,” he says softly, his hand moving to stroke my cheek. “Now let me make love to that pretty mouth and throat.”

He feeds me his cock, his hands cradling my head as he rocks gently into me, making my eyes roll back in my head, my dick perking up once more. Sensations overwhelm me and I can’t help but reach out and hold onto him. My anchor.

I hate him, and yet I want him.

I need him.

I have since I was a boy. And it’s only grown, a deep insatiable craving.

When he comes, he says my name, a whisper, a plea before he pulls out and cradles me from behind, his legs tangled with my own. The way his hand cups my heart, as if he’s holding it, makes something inside of me unfurl.

This is a dangerous game we’re playing.

And yet, I still let him hold me, my eyes shutting and my mind drifting off to sleep.

I wake to Luca’s body wrapped around mine, his warm breath hitting the skin of my neck.

Fuck, he’s addictive, making me think of things I shouldn’t.

“Let me go,” I say, my voice hoarse from sleep, from the fucking he gave my throat.

“Not yet,” he grumbles, his leg moving over mine a little tighter, his hand moving from my chest to my stomach, his fingers dragging through the hair at my groin.

It makes my already-hard cock jump.

“Good morning, kitten,” he says softly as he teases me. “How did you sleep?”

“Fuck off with this domesticated bullshit,” I reply, but my heart likes it far too much.

“So, you slept well then,” he says with a dark chuckle, his fistwrapping around my cock and stroking lazily. “You need a nice wake up?”

A disgusting groan leaves my throat as I reach back and thread my fingers through his hair. His lips trail across my neck and I feel a shudder move through my entire body. Everything about him is toxic…intoxicating.

But before anything can progress, his phone chirps loudly and he pulls away from me, grabbing it and then shooting from bed, his gun in his hand. The speed at which he moved has me racing after him, realizing I’m nude, but also knowing that this is more important than clothes.

“Fuck!” Luca shouts as he flings open the door and aims his gun, pointing it at the van peeling around the corner before dropping it to his side.

On the ground is a young boy, probably no older than fifteen, his lips blue, his clothes a mess.

“He dead?” I ask, and he sighs, leaning down and pressing his fingers to his neck.

“Yeah. Fuck!”

His eyes trail from the boy to me, and he runs a hand across his face.

“Who the fuck is dumping them? I want to fucking know.”

He fists his hands at his side and clenches his jaw.

“We’ll find out, but now we know you can’t stay here. You need to stay with Anthony. I don’t want you to be next.”

His eyes slam into mine and his lips twitch. “You care about me?”

“Shut the fuck up,” I say, moving back toward the bedroom to grab my phone. I know I need to call the twins.

I need this gone from Luca’s yard quickly.

They pick up, and I roll my eyes, bracing myself for their purrs, but this time they’re absent.

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