Chapter 6
DANTE
I can still feel Ethan squirming in my hand and his pulse against my palm. Going to class after that is pointless, since I can’t focus on a single thing that’s being said. All I can do is imagine Ethan jacking off in his car after leaving me.
I left him out there to come to class. I didn’t want him to be the one to walk away from me. He couldn’t have that control over me.
Look how well that’s going.
I’m the one sitting in class, hard as fuck, thinking about the sound of his little whimper. I could make him whimper so much louder.
Saliva pools in my mouth as I stare absently at the board behind the professor.
I’d almost been worried that I was lying to myself about Ethan—that I was watching him for no reason, that I was losing my mind, that he isn’t gay. That he’s happy and straight, completely out of my grasp.
Now I know for sure that’s not the case.
The look on his face when I touched him, when I blew smoke into it, when I told him I’ll own him…it was so perfect. So fucking pathetic and needy.
It only makes me want him more. I need him even more than before.
Ethan can pretend all he wants, but I know the truth. I feel it in my bones. In my blood. The pull toward him is so strong that it hurts.
I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.
Like a wild animal, endlessly chasing its prey.
Except I don’t want to kill Ethan. I want to claim him, taste him, know him.
I want to set him free.
“Mr. Romano, we need to talk about your grades,” Professor Wilkam calls to me as I’m about to walk out of my last class of the day. I actually made it to every class today, though whether or not I paid attention is another story.
“Can that wait?” I ask her, though I’m sure from the look on my face it doesn’t seem like asking.
She shakes her head. “I’ve waited long enough. I know your family is important in this town, but that doesn’t mean you get special privileges from me.”
I sigh and step farther into the room. A few more students leave, their eyes on us.
“Mrs. Wilkam,” I start, she corrects me.
“Professor.”
“Professor Wilkam,” I say. “Am I passing?”
She looks down at the papers in her hands. “Yes, but I believe you could do so much better if you applied yourself. Your absence rate is the highest out of all my students this year.”
“I’ve had a lotta family emergencies,” I insist, pulling my expression down, along with my shoulders, in an attempt to appear pitiable.
She eyes me. “Sometimes we have to put ourselves first. Now, I have three extra credit assignments for you to do before winter break. If you do these, the next few essays, and put some effort into the final exam, it will raise your grade from just passing to succeeding.”
I look down at the papers in her hand. “What exactly does ‘succeeding’ mean?”
“You’ll go up to an 85%. I can’t control what you do in the rest of your classes, but I’m offering you this here,” she says.
I snap my gaze back up to her, and she takes a step back. I see the reflection of my glare in her eyes. The darkness she sees in my gaze makes her so uncomfortable that she has to clear her throat and compose herself.
“Fine,” I say simply, and take the papers.
If it’ll get her off my back, I’ll take them.
Do them? I’m not so sure.
I have more important things to worry about right now—even more important than Ethan in the grand scheme of things.
The family has been receiving threats from one of our rivals, the Greivan family. They’ve been a part of the mafia world just as long as we have, but they lack the power we have. They’ve been trying to force our hand to merge for years, but the outcome would weigh heavily in their favor.
Needless to say, my family’s repeated rejections have made them increasingly bitchy.
After I leave campus, I hand deliver a letter from my father to the don of the Greivans, Callum Greivan. He’s older than my father, and it’s no surprise that he has so many guards surrounding him.
The dick can’t fight for himself.
“Here to make a deal?” Callum asks with a sly smile. I’ve approached him in public, knowing that he always comes to the park in the early evening to bird watch…or so he says.
The young men he blackmails into joining his family don’t look like ducks to me.
Sure, my father has interesting ways of expanding our family as well, but Greivan is just desperate.
“You wish,” I tell him, smirking right back at him. He can’t see any amount of irritation or annoyance on my face. Letting him think he’s getting to me is the last thing I want to do.
I sit down next to him on the bench and pull a thick envelope out of the inside pocket of my jacket. Without even looking at him, I offer it with a flick of my wrist.
“If your Nicholas wants to talk with me, he can face me himself,” Callum insists.
I chuckle. “Good luck with that. You’re fucking delusional if you think he’ll let you get close to him for even a second.”
Callum turns to me, and I finally look at him again, seeing a sparkle in his pale blue eyes.
“He let you come here all by yourself, didn’t he? How smart could he be?” He casually reaches into his own coat and puts his hand inside, slowly revealing the butt end of a gun.
I roll my eyes. “You’re gonna shoot me in broad daylight, in a park?”
“I’ve done worse, kid,” he insists. “I don’t care who sees. Convincing them you attacked me first would be easy as pie.”
I lean back against the bench and extend my arms to either side, one behind him.
“There’s just one problem,” I tell him.
“What’s that?” he asks, looking far too smarmy.
I nod my head to the side he isn’t paying attention to. “I didn’t come alone.”
He blinks and looks to the right. Three armed security guards dressed in civilian clothing are standing by a “no off-leash dogs” sign, chatting while clearly looking at us.
“I would’ve come alone, but Pops insisted they follow me around,” I say.
“He’s that afraid of me?” Callum asks, his hand gripping the gun tighter. I see the anxiety in his eyes, but it hasn’t convinced him not to mess with me yet.
“Nah. They’re mostly here for your sake,” I whisper as I lean in closer. “You’re awfully cocky for a seventy-year-old man who brings a gun to a fight I could win with one hand tied behind my back.” I toss the letter at him and stand up.
The guards shift their stance, on edge, but I wave casually. “All good, boys. I’m heading to dinner.” I look at Callum again, who has concealed his gun. “Make sure you read that.”
Not another word is said as I walk away from him and back to my car, feeling Callum’s glare on my back the whole way.
I need to see Ethan again.
Another week has gone by with nothing but seeing him from a distance. My family has kept me busy, but so has school. My father is up my ass about actually trying, and I have a feeling he talked to all my professors, because they’re all suddenly as invested in raising my grades as Wilkam.
I’m going crazy thinking about Ethan and wondering what would happen if he just let himself do what he wanted to do.
If I let myself do what I wanted to do.
I see him at the coffee shop alone, and I think…
I could go in there. Sit with him. Drag him back to his apartment and strip him of all the lies, all the pain…
and provide him with a different kind of pain, pain and pleasure mixed together perfectly.
God, I want to shove my cock down his throat until he chokes and fuck his tight ass until he’s crying out while spraying his cum all over himself.
I need to hear his perfect little whimpers.
I want to make him beg me not to stop, beg me to stop, beg me for everything.
But then I see him with Lena, holding hands. Smiling. Talking. Close. I see him with Nathan. I see how comfortable they are with each other; I see how much he doesn’t need me in his life. How much I would fuck him up.
And I want to end him, just so I can stop these maddening thoughts.
I could crush him so easily beneath my hands.
Yet the idea of him being gone is like a hole in my chest.
How can I feel all this shit for a guy I don’t even know?
I can’t take wondering anymore.
I want to see him.
I need to see him.
So, knowing exactly when he’ll be getting home tonight after his last class, I park in the back of the lot and wait.
My fingers tap against the steering wheel and I glance at the clock every other minute.
Finally, Ethan’s car comes into view and he pulls into his usual parking spot.
Everything is so rigidly scheduled with him—where he goes, who he sees, how long he’s there, the coffee and food he gets. Unless someone else messes it up, he always seems to plan things in extreme detail.
I know what comes next.
He gets out of the car, grabs his bag from the back, closes the door, checks his pockets, and then locks the car. Next, he’ll check the mail in the lobby before going upstairs.
I won’t be letting him get to the lobby.
I hop out of the car, cold, dead leaves crunching under my boots as I walk over to him.
He doesn’t seem to notice me at first.
“You,” I say, just loudly enough to get his attention.
He looks up, and his eyes widen. He grips his bag tighter. “Dante, what the hell are you—” I don’t let him finish.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?” I ask him. The blood in my veins already feels too hot, too much, like it might explode out of me at any moment.
“I have done nothing to you. I ran into you, spilled coffee on you, offered to pay for the dry cleaning, and you’ve been stalking me ever since, dude,” Ethan insists with a huff. His face is pink, and it’s only getting darker.
“Wrong,” I say. “You have…you’ve…completely invaded my mind.”
“What?” he asks.
I step closer to him, my fingers twitching. I’m desperate to touch him.
“I can’t stop thinkin’ about you,” I say with a low growl. “The way your skin feels…your eyes. Your pretty little mouth and how it will look stretched out around my dick.” I lift a hand and brush my fingers over his lips. I watch them tremble as his breath catches.
“Y-You’re crazy,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t step back.
“I want you, Ethan,” I tell him.
He sucks in a breath. “You don’t even know me! I-I’m not…I…”
“Oh, shut the fuck up with that. You know whatever you’re about to say is a fucking lie,” I hiss. I grab him by the front of his coat and pull him in. Ethan gasps and drops his bag on the pavement.
“You can pretend all you want, but I see it,” I whisper, my nose so close it’s almost brushing against his.
Ethan places both of his hands on my chest, and I feel his fingers curl against my shirt. “I don’t know what you think you see, but…” He trails off, his breath getting heavier as his eyes dart to my lips.
I put my other hand on his neck, under his jawline. “I feel your pulse racing, baby boy,” I tell him. “I see your face turning pink. I see the way you look at me. It’s not like how you look at Lena, not even fuckin’ close.”
Ethan seems to be at a loss for words. His hands grab my shirt even tighter.
“Is your cock hard? Huh, Ethan?” I ask. “When I touch you like this, do your dick and ass throb?” I pull him closer to me, tighter, and press my nose against his.
“Y-You…don’t know me,” he finally whimpers.
I rub my thumb under his jaw. “I want to know you, Ethan,” I say, my voice husky and quiet. “I wanna know every part of you, inside and out. I need to. I need you .”
The air between us is hot and heavy. Nothing else exists. I’m simply staring into his beautiful eyes, looking at my own desperate reflection. Our mouths are so close, but I can’t move any closer. I can’t will myself to make that move.
If I do, it could ruin everything.
What if this is really all just a fantasy? A lie I’m telling myself?
Kissing Ethan could break the illusion.
Before I can finish the flurry of anxious thoughts, Ethan’s mouth is against mine.
He’s kissing me.
Instantly my eyes close and I let go of his jacket, wrapping my arm around him and pulling him close and hard against my chest. I pull him up until he’s practically on his tiptoes.
His lips are warm and soft against mine. The kiss is firm and frantic. Our mouths move together messy and needy, our breathing quick and stuttered.
I can taste minty green tea in his mouth as I lick into it and hear him moan low in his throat. My cock twitches at the sound.
It lasts only a handful of seconds.
“Oh, God,” Ethan says in a gasp as he yanks himself away from me so hard I don’t have time to prepare. He stumbles backward a few steps, my hands left hanging in the air.
“You can’t…you can’t do that!” Ethan yells.
My hands curl into fists at my side. “I didn’t! You kissed me!”
“You’re…you’re messing with my head,” he says accusingly.
Anger flares in me. “Yeah, you tell yourself that,” I spit back at him. “Fuck, you drive me insane, Ethan. One second, I want to pin you against the car and fuck you in broad daylight, the next I want to throttle you until you fuckin’ die.” I huff and rake my fingers through my hair.
“Fuck you,” Ethan spits at me, then whirls around and rushes into the building.
As I watch him disappear, I can still taste him on my lips.