Page 7 of Desperately Delicate Viper

Trembling from head to toe, I duck into an alley and lean my back against the rough brick of the wall, gulping down trembling breaths to try to get myself under control. I realize I’m still holding his wallet and watch clutched in my hands. I stuff the watch into my bag and then open the wallet. The number of crisp hundred-dollar bills inside nearly makes me choke. I pull them out and stuff them into the front pocket of my bag too, doing a mental calculation of how much I have now.Enough. Finally. At least enough to get away and be able to get by for a couple of months until I can find a legit job somewhere. That knowledge is enough to ease a tiny bit of the guilt still burning its way through my intestines.

I’m about to ditch the wallet when the driver’s license catches my eye in the dull glow of a nearby streetlamp. He looks good in the picture, unlike most people. With a sad smile, I glance at the name printed on it and my heart stops, my veins filling with ice water instantly.

Luca Moretti.

Moretti.

The M stands for Moretti. As in, the biggest crime family in the city, possibly even the country. The Morettis own this city, from gambling debts on the upper East side to drug dealers in the projects. I've heard rumors that even the mayor takes a tidy percentage under the table to look the other way and let them continue to rule from the shadows.

I start to shake from head to toe and a manic laugh bursts from my throat. Leave it to me to be three short weeks from a new life, only to inadvertently rob a fucking Moretti. For the first goddamn time in my life my father is the least of my concerns.

I’m a fucking dead man.

Chapter 4

LUCA

Thesoundofthehotel room door slamming closed is a bucket of ice water on the blissful post-orgasmic moment I was enjoying only seconds ago.

“I’m really sorry.”

Anders’s whispered words register too late, everything suddenly falling into place. The metallic rattle, his quick departure… He robbed me. He bruised my mouth with rough kisses I’ve only dreamed of before, reached into my mind, gave me every fantasy I’ve never said out loud, and then he tied me up androbbedme.

I let out a borderline unhinged burst of laughter in the eerily silent room. If anyone else had pulled a stunt like that, I’d be imagining dozens of ways to make them suffer before splattering their brains all over the nearest surface. I should be fucking seething, but I laugh again as an oddly warm affection fills my chest.

“He’s got some fucking balls, that’s for sure,” I mutter, giving the binding around my wrist a slight tug to assess just how fucked I am.

To my surprise, I can feel the ropes loosening immediately. He tied a slip knot. Thank fuck for small mercies. Another slightly harder tug and the knot falls apart completely. I shove the blindfold up and blink as my eyes adjust to the light again. A sinking feeling settles in my chest when I see that Anders is really and truly not here. I didn’t think he would be, but I suppose a small part of me was holding out hope that this was some kind of kinky game he was playing.

His bag is gone, his clothes are gone—except for the white tank top that’s balled in my fist—and a quick glance lets me know my watch isn’t where I left it. I slide out of bed, wincing and groaning at the ache between my ass cheeks and the delightful soreness dotted all over my skin where he bit and marked me.

I snatch my pants up off the floor and check the pockets. My wallet is gone, but he left my keys. That’s something, at least. The urge to get dressed in a hurry and chase Anders down is strong, but I’m sure he’s smart enough that he didn’t linger right outside the hotel or anything quite that stupid. I consider the area while I get dressed and decide he probably ran towards the nightlife district on this side of town to get lost in the crowds.

My clothes are slightly wrinkled, but otherwise no worse for wear after spending an hour crumpled on the floor. I wish I could say as much for myself. I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams, like one little tug could completely unravel me.

Until tonight, I’ve never had the courage to ask anyone to be rough with me. I’ve played the cocky, confident, in controllover they all expected me to be, then gone home, lubed up my favorite toy, and fucked myself to fantasies of being owned and hurt just right. I clench my ass at the memory of the first sharp stingof Anders’s teeth on my skin, and the move sends a fresh ache through me. I hiss and my spent cock twitches.

I feel completely lost, standing in the middle of the bedroom, the defiled bed feet away. Deciding what to do next feels impossible. Even simply choosing to get in my car and drive home seems unbearable, as if the too-brief euphoria of giving all of my power over to someone else—toAnders—irrevocably broke my brain.

I clench and unclench my fingers around my keys in my pocket, then let out a slow breath. I stuff Anders’ shirt into my pocket. It’s too big to fit, so half of it hangs out like a trashy version of a pocket square. Then, I straighten my shoulders, forcibly shake off the needy feeling clawing at my chest, and head for the door.

I’m on autopilot as I retrieve my car from the valet and mutter an apology for not having a tip for him. My thoughts stay muddled and distracting as I cruise down the road, scanning the crowds gathered outside of the various bars and clubs for any sign of Anders. I’m sure he’s hopped a bus or gone back to Wonderland to get his own car by now. Hell, with the amount of money that was in my wallet, he could have gotten himself a limo home probably. I huff and press down harder on the gas to get the hell out of here.

A few minutes later, I pass the turn that would lead to my neighborhood and keep driving until I reach a familiar street lined with brownstones. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here, but that doesn’t stop me from parking, climbing the steps, and pressing the button for the top floor unit. I reach into my pocket and wrap my fingers around the wrinkled fabric of Anders’ shirt again. It’s damp from being stuffed into my mouth. I lick my lips absently at the memory.

It takes a minute or two before a familiar voice crackles through the speaker next to the door.

“Do you have any idea what fucking time it is?” There’s a gruff edge of sleep in his voice, and I wince.

“Sorry, Uncle Sal, I wasn’t thinking,” I answer. I let my finger up from the button for a second and try to get the words ‘I’ll just go home,’to form on my lips. Going home to my empty apartment sounds like fucking torture, if I’m being honest. If I do, I’d say there’s at least a fifty percent chance that I’ll end up driving around looking for Anders instead.

Come to think of it, that isn’t the worst idea I’ve ever had. The burning need to hunt him down and…

Andwhat?

Not ask for my wallet or watch back. He can keep those.

I don’t want to hurt him or teach him a lesson. If I’m honest, I’d rather leave that to him and busy myself coming up with some fun ways to earn them.

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