28. Lynx #2
But taking out Carlos wasn’t actually an option. All I could see was the look on War’s face when I’d asked him if I could do it, and his reminder that Carlos wasn’t just one man.
He was all of the men here tonight. And if I took him out, there’d be another who’d step right into his place.
Probably that Enzo guy, who hovered around Carlos’s back, a scotch glass in one hand, chunky rings catching the glint from the overhead fairy lights.
I tried to lighten the mood, because this was all too dark and depressing and was giving me that helpless feeling I’d sometimes gotten in prison, where everything was out of my control, and my entire existence came down to the whims of other people.
I grabbed the flask and took another swig.
“Okay, so Mafia Barbie isn’t your thing.
You’re not a tit man like your father apparently is.
Can’t blame you, because even hearing you talk about him like that has turned me off tits for the rest of my life.
” I glanced at him. “Thanks for that, by the way.”
The corner of his mouth flickered with amusement. “You saying you liked tits in the first place? You seemed more interested in my cock than in anyone’s boobs that night at the fights.”
“Why choose?” I asked with a grin. “Can’t a guy like both?”
His gaze trailed back to Nyah. “Yeah. I guess he can.”
“You ever think about fucking her just to stick it to your old man? Even if he never knows, you would.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why are you so obsessed with how I feel about Nyah? I’m not interested in my father’s virgin princess.”
Except I could see in the way he kept looking back at her that he was. That Nyah in that damn dress was doing as much for him as it was for me.
I grinned. “Liar. You fucking want her bad.”
The distrust in Luca’s eyes disappeared, and he laughed. “Fine. The thought of her bouncing on my cock, those little tits in my face, and all that long dark hair wrapped up in my fingers has crossed my mind.”
“So do it,” I encouraged. “I’ve seen the way the two of you verbally spar. She wants you. I’m sure of it.”
He looked at me from the corner of his eye. “What if she’s not who I want tonight?”
The way he asked the question froze me to the spot. Because there was something in his voice that hadn’t been there when we’d been talking about his father and Marissa and the life he’d been born into.
It was something that sent heat licking up my spine. And maybe it was the couple of swallows of hard liquor after not drinking since I was barely more than a teenager that had me saying, “Who do you want, Luca?”
He said nothing. Just slipped around the side of the pool house, away from the prying eyes of the party.
And for the longest moment, I closed my eyes, breathing deep, willing myself not to follow.
This had not been the plan. This was not baiting him to get pissed off with his dad and to want to fuck his fiancée just to get back at him.
It wasn’t reminding him how beautiful Nyah was, or of the crackling tension between them that anyone with eyes could see every time they were in the room together.
But fuck me, I followed.
He stood there in the moonlight, his eyes and hair dark, his chest rising and falling too rapidly.
He was beautiful. Not in the way Nyah was with her feminine curves and smaller stature.
Luca was beautiful in a way that reminded me of stone. All hard, chiseled lines, from his shoulders to his jaw, to the steel that glinted in his eyes, never relaxing, never disappearing, even now, when they were muddied by desire.
I stopped in front of him, breathing just as hard. “We shouldn’t do this here.”
“No,” he agreed, heat burning in his eyes. “We shouldn’t.”
Neither of us moved.
Fuck, I wanted to kiss him. His gaze dipped to my lips, like he was thinking exactly the same thing.
I groaned, giving in. “Get on your knees for me, Luca.”
His lips quirked into a challenging smile. “Did you forget I’m your boss, bodyguard?”
I shook my head, taking out my phone to record him, because I could. “You aren’t the boss out here. I said, get on your knees.”
And fuck me, he did. Slowly, one leg at a time, he lowered himself to the grass.
I undid my fly with my free hand and pulled out my cock, stroking it twice, watching myself through the video recording on my phone, letting him watch while the sounds of the party floated back to us.
He pushed my hand away and took over, gripping me tightly, stroking me from tip to root, getting me hard, preparing me for his mouth.
It only took two strokes.
I wasted no time, grabbing the back of his head and pushing my cock past his lips.
He took me easily, clearly well practiced.
He licked and sucked me, and I moved faster and faster, not trying to draw this out because of how many people were in a close vicinity and I needed to get back to watching over Nyah.
But the lure of having him like this was too much. I’d been thinking about it ever since that day at the fights, and I knew he had too. We’d been dancing around this for ages. We’d both known it was going to happen. And I wanted to be able to replay it later.
But if I’d known his mouth would feel like this, I would have done it sooner. I plunged in and out of the warm wetness and lost myself in the feel of him.
He pushed one hand between my legs, cupping my balls, squeezing them just right so that it felt good. “Fuck, Luca. I’m going to come in your mouth if you keep that up.”
He didn’t stop.
I groaned, gripping his hair and letting go of the hold on my orgasm.
My balls tightened, and pleasure coursed through me so hot and strong there was no stopping it.
I spilled cum deep into the back of his throat, loving the way he stared up at me through the camera, taking every drop and swallowing.
I closed my eyes, and moaned his name, “Luca.”
A throat clearing behind us had me whipping my head around to look over my shoulder.
With my dick still hard, buried deep in Luca’s mouth, I locked eyes with his uncle, Enzo. “Fuck,” I muttered, pulling away from Luca while trying to block him from view and shoving my phone in my pocket.
But it was too late. Enzo looked past me, and his gaze connected with his nephew’s.
The smile that spread across his face was pure shark. “Well, this isn’t what I expected to find behind the shed when your father asked me to come back here and search for the leaf scoop. This is a different kind of scoop altogether.” He sniggered at his own bad joke.
Luca stood. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
Except it was. It was me and Luca drinking and getting carried away in a public place then getting caught red-handed.
Enzo sneered at his nephew. “Are you saying it’s not you sucking another man’s dick? You aren’t deep-throating him, while he moaned your name like a fucking street whore. You must be good at it, nephew. Had some practice?”
Luca’s eyes narrowed. “That’s none of your business.”
Enzo shrugged casually. “No, but I think your father would be interested in knowing that his son is a faggot. Wouldn’t you?”
Luca said nothing for the longest time, and then, “What do you want to keep quiet? Money? I’ll write a check. A million do?”
I widened my eyes at the amount and the dead serious expression on his face.
And then at the fact Enzo turned him down.
He shook his head. “I don’t want your money, nephew. But know that I know. So when I call on you for your support, you’ll give it without question. Or I will tell your father what I saw here tonight. And we both know how your father feels about you faggots.”
He turned his nose up at both of us and walked away before Luca could say a word.
But the word he did manage to get out afterward was singular.
“Fuck.”