Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Zayden
There’s a tightening sensation inside my chest; the more steps I take, the tighter it gets.
I rub my sternum, trying to soothe the ache, but it doesn’t help.
But I pretend like it does, as I walk down the halls of the club.
The light fading from bright neon to steady amber glows deeper into the snake's mouth, I go. Red doors bleed into the dark walls. My heart lurches in my throat knowing that Thiago waits ahead, behind one of them. It’s the better option, and I know that, and that’s why it’s wrong.
Why I hate feeling this way. I feel sick to my stomach…
because it doesn’t feel like a violation.
It feels like surrender.
Everything I shouldn’t want but crave either way.
My hands close around the mask that covers half of my face, the cold plastic bites into my palm.
I stop right in front of the red door. Goosebumps rise along my arms, and the air feels colder against my flushed skin.
My pulse quickens as my heart clogs with grief…
with shame following close behind it. Anticipation masking itself in doubt.
Taking a deep breath in, I put the mask in place, pretending that I’m someone else.
That I’m not Zayden, and it’s not Safra who waits inside the room.
My hand twists the knob, my breath stuttering when the door opens, and I step inside.
The scent of whiskey and weed invades my lungs, intoxicating me with each breath.
And when I look at Thiago's face, I can tell I’m in for a long night.
It always is when he’s tense, and with how rigid his body is…
I can tell he’s stressed. What could he possibly know?
I close the door behind me, making sure to lock it.
Thiago finally lifts his gaze, and he gives me a small crooked smile.
That silent ‘I’m sorry, but I need you,’ smile that drives me wild.
I didn’t need to ask why I’m here. Why did he call me here and not the others?
Thiago drags a hand down his face before standing to his full height, a grin plastered on his beautiful face.
“Ruas, you’re late.”
His eyes roam over me, slow and assessing. Something in my chest tightens in that awful, familiar way—even though I pretend that I don’t feel it. Ignoring his words, I saunter toward the mini bar, needing to put as much alcohol in my system as possible so I can drown away my shame.
It never works… After the orgasm, I always feel worse.
“Did you hear me? You're late,” he says in the flat, almost bored tone that I hate. I scoff… He’s usually not such a dick, so I know something is going on. Is that why he’s acting like I’m an inconvenience? I bite back the instinct to pummel my fist into his face and shrug instead.
Grabbing the bottle of whiskey, I don’t bother with a glass.
Bringing it to my mouth, I tip my head back and let the amber liquid waterfall into my mouth.
The burn is instant, gathering heat as it goes down.
I can feel the weight of his gaze, and after another long drink, I acknowledge the elephant in the room with a glare.
“You could’ve said something about June,” I say, to which Thiago quirks a brow, his features turning sour as he inches closer to me, as if deciding whether to strangle me or fuck me.
Maybe he wants to do both. And God forgive me, because I wouldn't mind either.
My cock twitches inside my pants as my eyes roam down his body, stopping right at his V cut and his happy trail that disappears behind the waistband of his pants.
I moisten my lips, shaking myself free from the thought before looking up to meet his heated stare.
His expression hasn't changed, and somehow, my heart flutters inside my chest.
“I don’t owe you anything, Ruas.” The way he rolls the R, the hunger in his tone.
It’s enough to send a shiver down my spine; my shoulders tense at the sound.
Anticipation detonates inside me, every cell flares like a firework waiting to burn out.
My thoughts fracture, caught between what my mind condemns and what my body craves.
The split hurts, an ache that feels almost holy in its contradiction.
Thiago runs his fingers through his brown waves and lets out a sigh. His face crumples with the click of his tongue. “Believe it or not. I found out today, like everybody else,” he says softly, his fingers massaging the lines that form on his forehead.
My jaw clenches, my mind running wildly as I try to form one coherent thought that’s not distorted by this sick need to feel him inside me.
“I don’t believe you.”
As soon as the words leave my lips, I see the flash of indignation in Thiago’s eyes.
His reaction is quick and hard to miss, and despite how small it is, it’s enough.
I might as well have punched him, because he looks gutted.
The color drains from his face, even as his mouth curves, not quite into a smile but something devious.
Thiago closes the distance between us in two strides, backing me into the bar.
His warm breath fans against my lips, his finger hooks under my chin, and he lifts it so that I have to look into his eyes.
“Good thing,” he murmurs, causing my cheeks to burn from the molten lava that replaces my blood. “I didn’t ask if you believed me.”
I swallow hard, my pulse stuttering. I hate that he can do that to me, and hate even more that I let him.
Heat radiates off his body, sweat gathering on mine.
A bead of sweat slowly slides down my spine as he studies me like something expensive he just purchased.
Wondering if I’m worth it? I don’t give the reaction he wants by the way his lip drops to a frown.
His head tilts, then he leans in, breath grazing my ear.
“I didn’t call you here for your opinion.
” His voice drops into that seductive tone that plagues my mind, husky and breathless.
The one that makes my stomach twist and causes my pride to burn to nothing.
“I called you for release. Because you’re mine.
” He chuckles low and dark. “Mine to fuck. Mine to use. Just Mine.”
My fist clenches at my side, my breath catching in my throat.
All the synapses in my brain fire off at the same time, his nose runs down the side of my neck.
I try to remain calm, even as my muscles lock in place.
Thiago inhales me like a drug, and I hate the way my body reacts to him.
I loathe the way my chest tightens, the way I don’t step back, and the way my back arches slightly into him.
I tell myself that I have no choice, that I’m forced like everyone else in this place, yet my cock stiffens and twitches with anticipation.
Heat coils all around me, making my brain feel all fuzzy and underwater.
Like I’m drowning and flying all at once.
He steps back for a moment, allowing me to swallow some air and steady my pulse.
Thiago doesn’t look like his usual playful self. He stands before me authoritatively, as my handler…
His hazel eyes are dark and unreadable. I know him well enough to know something had happened.
Something did change… I just don’t know what.
And I’m sure he won’t share. So I’m left in the dark, offering the only thing I can—my body.
His hand slides down mine and curls around the bottle.
I watch him bring the bottle to his lips and drink directly from it.
Eyes on me. Using the back of his hand, he wipes away the alcohol on his lips.
“Now,” he says, his tone dismissive and commanding. “Be useful. Put that pretty mouth to use. I’m bored, Ruas.”
Thiago brings his thumb up to cover the beauty mark on my lip before dropping to the ring and gently tugging it.
Those hazel eyes burn like liquid honey, and I’m glued on the spot.
I should tell him to go to hell. I should shove him away.
I should do anything but sink to my knees—like a good pet, eager to please its owner.
I want him in ways I shouldn’t and every time I tell myself that this is forced upon me— I know it’s a lie.
“That’s it, meu principe, 1put that pretty mouth to good use,” he breathes out as my hands work his buckle and zipper until his cock is free from his pants and in my hand. “Show me how perfect your mouth is at sucking my cock. Make me forget everything but you.”
He exhales softly, staring down at me like I’m something precious.
The feeling has my heart swelling, my mouth watering with the urge to show him my worth.
Will he love me then? I keep my eyes on his as my hand slowly moves up his length.
He’s big and thick. The Prince Albert piercing at the tip glistens with precum, beckoning me to lick.
I fold quicker than a lawn chair.
My tongue flicks out, lapping the tip, making Thiago release a low, throaty moan that sends jolts of electricity through me.
Like a succubus, I feed off his pleasure.
My mouth wraps around him, and he groans.
Hips flexing forward, allowing me to take more of him.
My tongue swirls around his girth, coursing over the veins that adorn his cock.
I hollow my cheeks to suck him in deeper.
“Fuck, Ruas,” he moans, his hips pistoning into me, sounding like he’s in a trance, and something like pride takes hold of my chest. The feeling urges me to do better… to please him. “Isso, bom garoto.2”