Chapter 45
FORTY-FIVE
“Y ou look so good on your fucking knees,” Milo growls, hand fisting in my hair.
I peer up at him from beneath my lashes, his blue gaze capturing mine. I pump him faster into my mouth, and the moans that escape are the most erotic thing I’ve ever heard. So fucking wanton and responsive.
His eyes are dazed, face dripping with desire. Nobody has ever looked at me the way he does. Nobody has ever made me feel the way he does. He’s looking at me like I’m the very person who hung the stars and the moon for it. Truth is, if I could, I would. It’s taken me a long time to admit it, but I’d do anything for the fucker.
Milo’s hips jerk as he fucks my mouth, my fist pumping his length. He bites down on his lip, eyes shuttering for a moment. “Mmffuck…” he breathes out. The sound is raspy, deep and masculine, making my own dick painfully hard.
I slurp on his cock, licking and sucking, desperate to drive him as crazy as he makes me.
His lips part, his breathing shallow and loud as he chases my mouth with his hips.
I gag around his length, giving into him for just a second to allow him to seek the friction he craves. Using my other hand, I cup his balls, and mumble around his cock. The tip rubs at the back of my throat before I pull away, tongue licking along his shaft. Tracing my tongue over the tip again, I let the explosion of precum coat my taste buds. He’s always tasted good; usually of lust and regret, but this time is different. This time, he tastes like home, of memories to come.
I never thought I’d fall for the guy, but I should’ve known the moment my eyes landed on him that there was no hope for me. I knew I was done for, but I didn’t know Milo would steal my soul. I had no clue that he would be my weakness, my undoing. I never knew I’d come to love Milo Kyrovsky.
As he pounds into my mouth, I can’t stop looking at him, at the way he watches me with wonder and desire. “Fuck, Vee,” he growls. “Fuck… fuck...” he repeats like a mantra. With his hand pulling my hair, his hips turn crazed, I let him chase the pleasure, squeezing his balls and swallowing his length.
He fucks my mouth relentlessly, and usually, that would piss me off. I love the control, the power, but somehow being on my knees for Milo is all the power I need. To see him come apart beneath my touch is mesmerizing.
He hisses, stifling a groan as he drives into my mouth with urgency. I build Milo up until he looks like he’s about to collapse. I love bringing him to the brink of pleasure, only to tease him by pulling away. He’s so on edge right now that the covers are nothing more than a tangle of cotton.
His stomach clenches as I slide my tongue down his shaft again, sucking on his balls.
He shudders, a groan escaping his chest as I work him over and over to the brink of insanity. And just when I know he’s about to come, I release him.
His chest heaves with frustration, his desire palpable. His hair is all over the place from where I’ve been tugging it, his lips swollen from my earlier assault on him. Grabbing his legs, I flip him onto his front.
“You might like me on my knees for you, baby, but I love you beneath me.” My words vibrate against his ear, making him shiver with excitement.
He’s already primed and ready for me. An hour of working each other up in the kitchen, in the shower, and now in the bedroom definitely leaves you a desperate mess. And fuck I love seeing him like that.
The heat of my body envelops him, one hand lacing with his as I nip at his earlobe. With my other hand, I line myself up against his ass, his body already bending to my will.
“Mine,” I growl out. “Every inch of you is fucking mine.” I’m delirious with lust as I inch forward, pushing my cock past the ring of muscle. We both moan a cohort of curse words. Some are stifled by pleasure, others are coated in desire.
“In this life,” Milo pants in response.
I smile as he pauses. “And the next,” I finish, pressing a kiss to his cheek. My heart squeezes in my chest. It feels so full, yet so light. Like it’s attached to a balloon and only Milo’s words of adoration can remove the gravity holding it down.
“Are you going to fuck me or what, malen'kiy d'yavol ?”
Little devil.
My lips curl at the nickname dripping in sex. My pace is slow to start, my hips moving with his as I thrust into him. A fog of pleasure swirls around my head, hungry and dangerous.
His ass clenches around me every time I go to pull out, recognizing exactly where I need to be. Every time we fuck, I feel like I’m giving another piece of my soul to him. Pretty soon, there will be nothing left of it, and I can’t say I’m mad about that. Milo is someone worth losing myself for, only because I know he’d find me. It might have taken us a while to get to this point, but I’ve come to realize now that he’s it for me. Just like my sister said, he’s my forever.
Milo sucks in a moan when I hit the deepest part of him, his head turning to the side to watch me. His eyes flicker with some absent thought, making me lean forward and run my tongue along his cheek. Salty sweat leaks over my tongue and I groan.
“What’re you thinking, baby?” I pant. Every punch of my hips sends a hot breath to skitter over his skin, causing goosebumps to erupt all over.
“I’m thinking about how it might be my turn to fuck you.”
Though I know it’s meant as a joke, I still inside of him, my hand coming up to his throat. I’ve never bottomed, and I’m not sure it’s something I’d enjoy. But maybe I can make an exception. Just once.
“You wanna fuck my ass?” I grunt. “You gotta earn that shit.”
“And how do I do that?” he smirks. We both know we owe each other our lives, and earning each other’s cocks is something we do on a daily basis.
“You’re a clever boy, Miles.” His birth name is growing on me. “Figure it out.”
The sound of his name leaving my lips sends a shiver down his spine. I know he loves hearing it, adores it even. It reminds me that there’s so much more we need to learn about one another. I only know snippets of his past, his life before the Federovs. But he’s equally in the dark about my life. Sure, we’ve still got so much to deal with going forward, but Milo makes shit easier. I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my life being inside of him. Especially if it meant having a future.
Punching my hips forward, I ride him until my cock aches for release. I switch the tempo between fast and hard, to slow and sensual, building him up so high that when the moment comes, we’re gonna need to change the sheets.
With my dick buried so deep inside of him, he starts riding me back, pushing his ass against my hips. My fingers dig into the flesh, guiding him over my cock just the way I like. My thrusts turn animalistic as I drive into him with urgency.
He fists the covers beneath us, muffling the sound of his cries as I feel him tense around me. “Fuck, baby. I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,” I moan.
He pulls back until he’s upright, arm reaching behind him to tug me closer. I run my lips over his neck, sinking my teeth into the flesh and tasting the coppery tang as blood blooms over my tongue. I’ll never get enough of Milo, of the way he makes the world seem a hell of a lot better. I have so much I need to achieve, but I know he’s the constant in my life that I need to keep me grounded.
“Vee,” Milo gasps as his hips jerk.
Tingles spread up my spine, my balls tightening as I grip his throat. “Come for me baby, show me who you belong to.”
His ass clenches, and that’s all it takes. He comes hard, ribbons of cum covering the sheets. The sight has me thrusting harder, faster. I come hard in his ass, so hard that heat prickles my skin like a million needles piercing the flesh. Sweat trickles down my temple and I swear I black out for a second.
We collapse on the bed, a lazy pile of heady breaths and a sticky mess that neither of us care about right now. I stroke a hand over his ass cheeks, and he shudders as I run my finger between them. My cum leaks out of him and my dick twitches.
Coating my fingers, I bring them to Milo’s lips, glazing them like a fucking donut before pressing my lips to them. “I’m in love with you,” I blurt out. No lead-up. No softness. Just the truth, naked like us. Heat coats my cheeks as Milo’s breath hitches, his eyes blowing wide.
For a second, I worry he’s not going to say it back, that this’ll be the reason he runs. All I’ve ever done is push him away. Since the day we met, I’ve tried to put distance between us, and he refused to accept it. Could this be the moment that undoes everything we’ve gone through?
He reaches forward, pressing our foreheads together, and the most beautiful smile softens his lips. “I love you too,” he says, quiet and unflinching. “Even though it’s taken you this long to say it. I love you.”
My mouth is on his again, and this time it isn’t soft. It isn’t dramatic. It’s grounding. It’s the kind of kiss that says, I’m here. I’ll always be here.
* * *
“T hat’s everything,” Gracie chirps, dropping a thick folder onto the desk with a satisfying thwack.
I raise a brow, lips twitching with skepticism. “Everything?”
She spins lazily in her chair, knees tucked to her chest, a half-smoked blunt dangling from her lips like a goddamn badge of honor. Smoke coils around her in soft spirals, glowing in the low, flickering light of the studio. With her chipped nail polish, oversized hoodie, beanie, and mismatched socks, she looks more like a college burnout than one of the best hackers slash tattooists in the city.
But looks are deceiving. Always have been.
Gracie may act like a stoned gremlin most days, but her mind? Razor sharp. Calculated. And when shit hits the fan, there’s no one I trust more to pick up the pieces I can’t. She’s been through more hell than most people survive, and if smoking her trauma into oblivion keeps her upright, I’m not about to tell her to stop.
She nods emphatically, hugging her knees to her chest. Sometimes I forget she’s older than me—only by seven years—because she acts a lot younger than she is. “If this guy has so much as bought a coffee in the last ten years, it’s in there.”
“Thanks, G. But I don’t need his grocery list.”
She shrugs and takes another drag, letting the smoke drift toward me in a slow exhale.
“You’re gonna burn that tongue one day.”
“Still gonna talk circles around you when I do,” she fires back, eyes glittering.
She’s not wrong.
After Roman and Haldon agreed to find Milo, Gracie was on hand to track him down. It took her less than an hour to locate his phone—apparently, it wasn’t as well-encrypted as she expected for a government agent—and she was able to track his last known location. It was hit or miss whether he was going to actually be there, but clearly the Federovs weren’t expecting us to retrieve Milo.
I’m still pissed that Vadim slipped through our fingers. Milo says he’s worse than Konstantin ever was, and after everything he told me, I believe it. It’s only a matter of time before he resurfaces—angrier, vengeful, and twice as brutal. And when he does, we’ll be ready.
Thumbing through the documents in my hand, I skim through all the important information—addresses, phone bills, birth certificate—taking pictures of all the important stuff. I know I shouldn’t be going behind Milo’s back, but a part of me feels the need to do this. We might not get another chance.
“So,” Gracie breaks the silence with a mischievous grin. “When are you going to do it?”
I glance up. “Do what?”
She rolls her eyes and puffs smoke directly at my face.
I cough, squinting as I waft away the smoke spiraling around me.
“You know,” she says with a wink.
“This weekend,” I reply, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “So don’t say shit!”
She makes the zip motion across her lips before pretending to lock and throw away the key. “Your secrets are safe in the vault of Gracie’s ADHD-addled mind.”
“Terrifying,” I mutter, snapping the folder shut and placing it back on the desk.
Gracie exhales again, her chair creaking when she leans back into it. “You sure he wants to… you know?” she winks.
“I guess we’ll find out,” I say with a shrug.
“I think he’d understand, though,” she placates before turning serious. “You love the guy and that’s enough of a reason.”
My eyes flick up to meet hers. The words sit between us like a loaded gun. Ironic, really.
“What about the girls? Any news?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.
She shakes her head, a wave of sadness washing over her features. “I’m going to keep looking, but right now, they’re completely off the grid. When Vadim went into hiding, he took them with him.”
“They can’t have just vanished,” I mutter.
“You’d be surprised how quickly you can make someone disappear with the right incentive and a boatload of money.”
I resent even challenging her on this because she’s right. The Russian’s aren’t exactly strapped for cash, and anyone with decent contacts can disappear. Still, I made a promise to Milo that I would help him track down the girls that the Federovs were trafficking.
While he’s on temporary leave with the FBI, he hasn’t got the same resources I have. No badge. No backup. Just The Five, and he’s determined to take down Vadim. Sometimes I worry it’s a little too much– it’s only been two months since everything went down. But when he told me about the girl who was slaughtered like cattle in front of him, I couldn’t fault his motivations. Nobody as innocent as that girl deserves such brutality. Which is funny considering I serve out brutality on an almost daily basis.
Anger pulses away in my chest, hot and bitter. I clench my jaw, thinking about the broken look in his eyes when he told what the Federovs did, how he was forced to watch. “He’s not going to let this go.”
“No,” she replies with conviction. “And neither will I. I can do it, I just need more time.”
I nod, accepting the determination she exudes. The best thing about Gracie Lucchese is when she says she’s going to do something, she’ll do it. No matter what it is. No matter what the consequences are. She’ll never let you down. If anything, she’ll prove you wrong, even if the odds are shit.
“Keep digging. If you find anything even remotely off, call me.”
She salutes with a sharp and sarcastic grin. “Yes, sir,” she barks.
I flip her off as I leave the room, needing space to breathe. The studio smells of antiseptic and burning ink, familiar in the way old scars are familiar.
We’ve been coming here for years, since Gracie got her license and set up a shop. She’s made a name for herself with artistic talent and in my opinion, she has the best artwork in the city. But I’d never tell her that. Funneling money into her account is enough to give her a big head. She knows we won’t go anywhere else because as chaotic as she can be, we trust her.
Cillian is lounging in one of the chairs near the front, hands linked behind his head and his eyes closed as I pass by. He’s not even getting work done, but I know this is his favorite place to hang out.
Metal blasts through the speakers, ‘Feel nothing’ by The Plot In You playing so loud it tickles my eardrums. But that’s what I love about this place, the unforgivable volume and tunes that play—probably one of Gracie’s many playlists.
“Yo,” I say, tapping Cillian’s foot with mine.
He opens one eye, his lips curling into a smile as soon as he recognizes me. “Vee,” he acknowledges with a grin.
I sit on the edge of the bench opposite him. “I wanted to talk to you about your contact.” It’s been eating away at me for months. At first, I thought it was Milo, but clearly I was wrong. Any information we’ve needed over the last month, our mole has been a ghost. Zero contact. Zero information.
His grin fades, replaced with something tighter. “Still stewing on that?”
“Not stewing. Just… piecing things together.”
“What about him?” Cillian sits upright, turning his attention to the back of the shop.
Gracie appears from the back, waving to Cillian as she passes through. He doesn’t return it, but something flickers in his eyes—an old kind of ache I recognize too well.
“I want to know who it was,” I demand, folding my arms. He might be older than me, but essentially he takes orders from the five families.
Cillian flicks a toothpick into his mouth, chomping down on it. “Now, why d’ya wanna do a thing like that?” his Irish accent laces his question with a hint of amusement.
“We haven’t heard from him in over two months. No intel. No trace. Milo had a hunch, and?—”
He lifts a hand. “Let me guess. He thinks your ghost is still out there.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Does it matter?” he counters, pinching his toothpick between his thumb and forefinger. “Gracie can’t track him down, none of my contacts have heard from him. He’s essentially dead in the water.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I mutter. I feel bad for Milo because he had high hopes that our mole was still alive. In some way, he felt connected to the guy, though I don’t fully understand it. He’s never divulged much more than he has already, and I respect that. He says it’s because there’s more at stake, more than just one life at risk, and he wants to make good on a promise he made.
I can’t fault him for his loyalty. That man is just another bullet away from a redemption story.
Cillian frowns back at me as my words seem to finally sink in. With a huff, he stands up from the chair he was situated in and shakes his head. “Some things are better left unknown, Vee.”
“Some things, yeah. But not this.”
“Fine,” he sighs, flipping the toothpick around and tucking it back between his lips. He exhales through his nose and after a moment, he pins me with a glare. “Malakai Sokolov.”
The name hits me like a bullet to the chest.
And just like that, everything shifts.