Chapter 10 Razor #3
But when I stood, he made the choice for me.
He dragged me in, mouth open, blood still slick between us and kissed me hungrily.
Yeah, it was fucked. Him all over me like that, trousers still round his ankles, cock softening, leaking onto the pavement.
It was as if he got off on the danger. The mess, the ruin of it all.
Then he tore at my jeans, and I didn’t stop him.
Helped, even. Pulled them down, let my cock slide against his, hot against spent, skin to skin.
I rocked into him, our breaths crashing, his tongue finding mine again.
Then he wrapped his hand around me, rough and fast, and I grunted into his mouth, teeth clashing, hips jerking.
The sound I made wasn’t human. More growl than breath.
I came hard, spurting down his hand, over him, the heat of it spilling between us.
Afterwards, the world went quiet. Only the echo of our breathing and the hum of traffic somewhere beyond the alley.
I rested my forehead on his, sweat cooling, blood copper-sweet on my tongue, and gave myself a second.
Just one. Because if I thought too hard about what I’d done, how good it had felt, I’d have to admit what it was.
So I pulled back. “You ain’t getting paid for that.”
He tried to laugh, low and breathless, but it cracked when his split lip reopened. He winced, touched it, but I caught his hand before it could hide the mess and pressed my mouth to his instead, licking the blood clean off him. Then I stepped back, zipped up, trying for distance.
“What’s your name?” he asked, straightening, pulling his trousers up.
“Razor.”
He arched a brow. “That your real name?”
“It’s the only one you need to know.”
He tried to hide a smile, puffing out his swollen bottom lip. “Didn’t realise I was dealing with a brand.”
That smirk. God, it asked for trouble. I stepped in, close enough to smell him again. “It’s a name you don’t go telling people you did this with, yeah? No one.”
He nodded, but his eyes still held that spark, as if he’d had me sussed from day one.
“Tristan,” he said eventually. “In case you wanted to know.”
I snorted. “Tristan.” Despite the name rolling off my tongue like a fucking siren call, there was no way I could let it out again. “I can’t call you that.”
“Why not? It’s my name. Real one. You should try having one.”
That earned him another grab by the jacket and a kiss meaning to shut him up.
Filthy. Hard. Erasing the pull that shouldn’t have been there.
But it hit different. Too deep. Too wanting.
Cause he was soft. Expensive-soft. Someone who’d never slept hungry.
And for one stupid second, I wondered what I’d be if I wasn’t Razor.
If there was still a life where Richie mattered.
Where I could tell him my real name, let him meet the real me and what he’d think about him.
Thankfully, my burner rang, bringing me back to reality. I pulled away to dig it out of my pocket.
“I’ll call you Tricky instead.” I gazed over his skin. “’Cause that’s what you are.”
He tilted his neck. “Guess that makes two of us.”
He gave a faint, dazed smile, and I let him go.
Then the screen lit up. Reg. My dealer for Mare Street. Instinct kicked in. The world snapping back to order as I turned away, thumbed it on. “Yeah.”
His voice came rough through the static. “Boss? Door’s off in Bethnal. Everything’s gone.”
Nothing like business to snap me back to myself. “Fuck. Where’s Tyler?”
“He put Tiny on it. Said he had business.”
“Jesus. Fuck.” I dragged my fingers across my brow. “Stay there. I’m on my way.”
“Yes, boss.”
Click. Line dead.
I pocketed the phone, sliding my mask firmly back into place. Business mode. No trace left of what just happened as I looked at pretty boy.
“Your mate Benji’s in my bad books.” I sorted myself out to get back to why I was here. “Him and that posh prick you call an ex. They owe me. Big time.”
“What do they owe you?”
“Something that ain’t theirs. Took it off my line.
I don’t let that slide.” I kept my face blank, but my hands curled into the pockets of my hoodie.
“Here’s how it is: you find out if there’s anything left and you bring it to me.
You do that, maybe I forget what your mate owes.
You don’t, and I’ll make sure he pays in ways he won’t like. ”
He swallowed. “Is this about those blokes who cornered us the other night outside the club? Because I paid them.”
“You did. Smart move.” I stepped in closer, till the alley smelt of him.
Sweat, fear, and something cleaner underneath.
“Problem is, you paid the wrong people. You and your mates walked straight into a turf war. That stash? Weren’t my runner’s, weren’t my gear.
But it was my patch. Which means I’m owed.
Either the lot, or the cash. Debt’s debt.
And I didn’t earn my name by letting ignorance slide.
” I leant in, voice low, almost a drawl.
“And experience tells me I don’t get paid when I ask nicely. ”
The colour bled out of his face. “You’re serious.”
“Always about business, Tricky.” The nickname slipped out before I could stop it, softer than the rest of me. “Even after a kiss like that.”
I straightened, ready to step back. To put distance between us, but my eyes stayed on his mouth.
The blood. The mark I’d left. Normally, I’d take pride in that.
Proof of control, a warning to anyone watching.
But this time, it felt different. Possessive.
As if I hadn’t marked him to hurt him, but to claim him.
“How…do I bring you the stuff?” His question landed small but earnest, and for a second the hard edge of the alley softened.
“First job is to get it or find out where it is.” I tossed him a look that was half warning, half agreement. “And you should tell whoever’s in that back room to shift their toys. Burglar’s dream, innit?”
“That’s my room.” He flushed, the colour hot and absurd on him. I couldn’t help the laugh escaping.
“Nice side piece, then. No wonder the ex couldn’t keep up.”
The coy smile tugging at his mouth made my chest unknot.
Then he went scarlet proper. Ridiculous and cute and infuriating.
Because that side piece was the massive dildo I’d seen in the drawer.
I stepped back, laughed, and started to go.
Before I turned the corner, I heard him call after me, voice swallowed by concrete.
“How will I know where to find you?”
I didn’t look back. “You don’t.” Then I walked, the echo of his eyes on my back. “I find you.”
The city swallowed me whole, the alley sealing shut behind me like a door.
A door I shouldn’t open again.