Chapter 9
NINE
T he crowd is buzzing with frenetic energy, the entire room erupting into chaotic boos and cheers as the winner of the fight parades around the ring. I only glance for a moment at the man passed out on the floor before two others surround him, pulling him up by his arms and legs.
“Glad I didn’t bet on him,” Haldon mutters beside me.
Our eyes follow the two men who are dragging the loser under the ropes. It doesn’t take a genius to work out where they’re taking him. They don’t call this ‘the fight to the death’ for nothing.
“He’s not dead,” I comment, thinking aloud.
Haldon snorts derivatively, throwing back one of his shots. “Yet.”
I know exactly what he’s referring to. Then again, I swear the guy currently being carted off is still breathing. I suppose that doesn’t mean shit, because he’s being dragged through a side door carelessly, his limp body leaving a blood trail streaked across the floor.
It was my idea to come here to scope out Roman’s competition. Now that Roman has a venue, he needs to work on a strategy to bring the patrons in—something we all know Haldon is good at. But to be successful, we need to know what we’re up against. Since the Russians are all over this game, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to pay Kyrovsky a visit.
I had planned to get Milo alone, because since that fucking kiss, my head’s been a mess. I can’t get it out of my mind, it’s on goddamn repeat every time I close my eyes. I’m not even ashamed to admit that I’ve fucked my hand several times to the memory. I know it can never be more than that, but some part of me still wanted to see him.
Only I wasn’t expecting him to approach me so soon. Fuck, I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe that’s why I got so pissed.
“You think these fighters know what they’re up against?” Roman asks.
“Doubtful,” I say, shrugging in response. “Would you get in there knowing you might not come out?”
Roman stares at me for a moment, almost pensively before replying. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
I’m not even surprised by that remark. Roman was—is—a great fighter. He was in the ring as soon as he was strong enough to hold gloves, and he did so without mercy. Ruthless between the ropes, Roman made a name for himself before he joined his dad out in California. I suppose that’s how he keeps so calm and focused, he has an outlet.
I, on the other hand, struggle to maintain the balance. I must take after my dad on that front because I let shit simmer beneath the surface. It can take the smallest thing for me to pop off, and it’s not a pretty sight.
“I think there’s more to it,” Haldon chimes in, eyes narrowed suspiciously as he surveys the room.
I sink the last of my beer— one of many drinks I put on Milo’s tab— before swiping my mouth with my hand. “I think you’re right.”
That thought sits heavily with me as I place my empty bottle on the makeshift table because I’m only reminded of how ruthless the Russians are. It’s dangerous just being involved with them, and if we’re going to push back against them, we need to be prepared for anything.
“Kyrovsky’s disappeared,” Roman tells me.
My gaze follows his, scouring the room, but I come up short. Roman’s right, Milo’s disappeared, and the guy I’ve noticed he’s been talking to all night is watching us warily. I’ve avoided eye contact as much as possible, because just looking at Milo has me all kinds of fucked up. His cocky attitude is just another thing that grates on me, yet I can’t seem to get enough.
“Fuck him,” I grunt.
“Kyrovsky’s really gotten under your skin, huh?” Haldon chuckles.
I cut him a glare. If only he knew. Then again, they can’t know. Resisting the urge to respond, I make an excuse to find the restroom—which is a lie in itself, but I’m really not in the mood for Haldon and Roman to start taunting me.
Marching towards the only other door in the basement, I can already sense the crowd growing rowdy and tense. No doubt those who lost money on tonight’s fight will be wanting to create their own chaos, and I don’t want to be around for that.
I take a deep breath as I push through the door, closing my eyes as I relish the silence for a moment. I can still hear the heavy bass playing through the speakers; it pounds beneath my feet. But the roar of the crowd has dulled, allowing me to finally clear my head.
Opening my eyes, I head down the corridor, searching for the bathrooms. All I can find is a locker room and when I push through to enter, the darkness is almost consuming. It’s surprisingly clean—for a dingy, rundown basement—and smells oddly like…
“Now who’s the stalker?” A familiar, silky voice laced with sex closes in on me. I feel his breath, warm and soft, skating across my cheek. The heat of his body emanates from behind, and while every particle in my brain is telling me to create distance between us, I can’t seem to get my feet to move.
My heart pounds in my chest, my throat suddenly dry from Milo’s proximity. My stomach flips in nervous anticipation. Footsteps circle me until I feel Milo’s body; so close to me I’m certain it would only take the tiniest movement for this to turn into something else.
Why does that thrill me?
Swallowing harshly, I try to get control of my pulse, my breathing, anything to keep me grounded. But it’s obvious that Milo has other ideas, and the lack of light makes this entire exchange that much more sordid.
Wrapping a hand around the nape of my neck, he tugs me in that last inch, our lips brushing and his hot breaths teasing me. His tongue slips across my bottom lip, my dick twitching in anticipation. I can feel his lips twist with that signature smirk I love to hate, moments before he seals them against mine.
It’s soft at first, daring and hesitant; a stark contrast to our last kiss. His warm tongue strokes mine, and even though I can feel him holding back, the hunger is palpable. I slide my fingers through his hair, the kiss deepening as Milo’s hands move to my jacket, spinning us both around until my back lands on something solid. From the sound it makes, I’m assuming it’s lockers, but the darkness removes any confirmation of that.
“If you want me to suck your dick, all you’ve gotta do is ask, malen'kiy d'yavol .”
“Fuck you!” I snarl as I shove him back, though everything inside me is aching to pull him in closer, instead. I can’t deny the thrill of skating close to the edge of right and wrong, teetering on the precipice of sin with the man I want, but can never have.
His body presses against mine, his own excitement evident behind his zipper. “Isn’t that what I’m trying to do? Or are you just a cock tease?”
It’s almost automatic the way I pull my gun from my holster and press it against his chest. Without being able to see, it’s only the fact I can feel where his body is that I manage to make contact.
Milo doesn’t even bristle. His breaths kick up a notch, but a part of me is certain it’s not from fear. “You and I both know you won’t pull that trigger.”
“You don’t know shit about me,” I growl, pressing the gun harder against him in warning.
“Oh yeah?” Milo’s tone is full of disbelief, and I’m sure if I could see his face, I’d see the deviant smile curling his sinful lips. His hands reach for my belt, seamlessly unfastening the buckle.
I don’t stop him.
“I think I know you better than you think.” He drops to his knees, and I know I should stop this. I should get out of this situation before we cross any more lines. I should set the boundary, right here, right now.
Pressing the barrel of my gun to his head, I consider my options. I know I’m letting my anger rule me right now, but as much as I want to sink my cock into Milo, I can’t .
“What’s the matter?” Milo teases, hand reaching into my boxers. “Worried daddy might find out you’re gay, or that you have a Russian on his knees for you?”
He pulls out my rock hard cock and starts stroking it leisurely, all common sense flying out the window as I buck my hips to chase his touch. Leaning over, my hand darts out to wrap around his throat, Milo’s breath coming out in excited pants as I press my forehead against his. If I could see him, I’d look into the depths of those dangerous eyes and search for the real answer to his question. As it happens, I find nothing, and that snaps the last thread of self-control I’ve been clinging onto.
“Why don’t you fill that mouth with something better than words and prove it,” I growl, moving my gun to his temple.
Without hesitation, Milo’s warm tongue licks the tip, tasting me, teasing me, taunting me with the control he knows he has at this moment. Each languid stroke sends ripples of lustful anticipation through my body, and I surrender to it, throwing my head back as he pumps me rigorously in his fist.
A groan fills my chest as his mouth closes around the head of my cock, the heat and pressure building me up too fast. Knowing that what we’re doing is wrong on so many levels ups the ante, and I swear I’m harder right now than I’ve ever been in my fucking life. Threading my fingers through his hair, I tighten my hold, thrusting my hips forward.
He takes me without protest, my hand in his hair and gun against his head as we both give in. His jaw loosens so I can fuck his face and I drive my cock deeper down his throat, internally punishing myself for how much I’m enjoying this.
Milo must feel the same because his hands reach around to grab my ass, pulling me further into his mouth, until his lips almost touch the base.
“Fuck!” I moan out, my knees shaking in response to how deep he’s taking me. I’ve had my fair share of blow-jobs and I’m by no means small, so the fact Milo is taking every bit of me only makes me want to fuck him more. Despite the fact he’s the enemy, despite the fact he’s a total dick who grates on my last nerve, he’s fucking irresistible.
Milo moans around my cock, the sound vibrating right through me, making my balls tighten. My hold on his hair encourages him to move faster, his hand returning to work in tandem with his mouth.
My entire body tingles with the promise of an orgasm, sparks of pleasure shooting up my spine as Milo works my dick like a goddamn instrument. His mouth hollows out, his tongue circling the tip, and it’s my undoing.
I jolt forward, my hips taking over as I grip his face tightly with one hand and come hard down his throat. Wave after wave of pleasure ripples through my body, and I’m certain if I could see anything right now, it would just be sparks. White hot sparks .
My pulse races as I try to catch my breath while Milo stands, carefully tucking me back in. My hand is still on the gun. I haven’t used it.
Why?
His scent envelops me, an addictive mix of his oaky aftershave and sex. He doesn’t give me the chance to calm my breathing before his lips land back on mine, harder this time, feverish and filled with desire. I can taste myself in his mouth, the harsh reminder of our bad decisions sitting heavily on our tongues.
Fuck.
When he pulls away, the cold air that replaces his body is chilling, immediately shifting my mood.
Milo runs a hand up and down my throat, and in the darkness it’s like I can hear all the thoughts swirling between us. Surprise, because I don’t feel any regret about what just happened. Anger, because there’s no doubt in my mind that Milo now knows the true hold he has over me. Fear, because deep down I know the answer to his earlier question, and I don’t like it one bit.
Pecking one last kiss on my lips, I feel the remnants of his smile press against them. “Until next time, malen’kiy d’yavol .”