Chapter 8 #3
I grab the bottle of lube he dropped between his legs after coating his fingers, and I squirt a generous amount onto my cock. He has two fingers working his hole now, his hips jerking and his balls visibly tightening.
“Say it again,” I grunt, shoving my jeans down just to my thighs and getting on my knees behind him.
“What? That I can’t get you out of my head?”
I grunt again, a needy, feral feeling pounding inside my chest, and grab his wrist to pull his fingers out of his hole.
As far as I know, no one knew or even cared that I died. No one looked for me, no one mourned me. But Alessio can’t stop thinking about me? He doesn’t even know me, but he’s breathing life into me.
“Again,” I growl, grabbing his hips and lining my cock up with his glistening hole.
The heat of him against the bare skin of my cock is already the best thing I can ever remember feeling, and I’m not even inside him yet.
He’s taller than me, more muscular, and maybe even more dangerous, but here he is, bent over his couch, whimpering and making me feel like maybe I’m not dead after all.
“It’s fucking insane, but I’m obsessed with you.” He gasps, and I thrust inside of him, filling him in one rough stroke. “I knew that drink was from you, and I was about to pull my gun out and shove it in that bartender’s mouth if he wouldn’t tell me where you went or what your name was.”
He clenches around me and my eyes roll back. I wrap myself around him, finding a wild frantic rhythm with my snapping hips, grazing my teeth over the soft flesh on the back of his neck and his shoulders.
“Spettro,” he pants. “I’ll fucking find you if you disappear again. I don’t care who I have to threaten or kill to do it.”
I moan against his skin and catch a droplet of his sweat on my tongue, fucking him deep over and over again. The sound of our slapping skin echoes off the high ceiling of his living room, along with our unrestrained grunts and groans.
For the first time I can remember, I don’t need to put a hand on my chest to feel my heart beating or to know I’m really alive.
I can feel it in every pulsing cell in my body, in the dizzying perfection of Alessio’s hole squeezing around my cock, in every breath I drag in that tastes like his sweat and the lingering flavor of his toothpaste on my lips.
I reach forward to wrap my hand around his cock, and for just a second, I wish I could feel all of his bare skin against mine. I’ve already pushed enough of my own boundaries tonight though, and I don’t think I can take another.
He wails and his cock spasms in my grasp, his muscles tensing.
“I’m going to cum, Sir. Breed me. Please. I need to feel your hot cum flooding my guts.”
I squeeze the base of his cock to hold him off and fuck him harder, faster, so deep he’ll choke on my cum when I give it to him. And then, with my face buried in the crook of his neck, I give him what he wants.
“Take my cum, slut.” I groan, grinding inside his hole as my balls clench and my cock starts to pulse, pumping out the hot, sticky ropes he’s begging for.
I stroke his cock with a firm, steady grip, milking the cum from him as he throws his head back and screams my name, the name he gave me, the only one I need.
“Spettro.”
The waves of pleasure go on and on, but even once they start to fade, I clench my ass and keep my hips pressed up against him, not ready to lose the feeling of being inside him right away.
He sags against the arm of the couch, and I suck on the back of his neck, weakly thrusting inside him until my cock is too soft and oversensitive.
A gush of cum spills from his hole when I finally pull out.
I sit back on my heels, spread his cheeks, and use my thumb to gather it and shove it back inside him.
His hole flutters and he lets out a quiet whimper.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
Alessio lets out a breathless laugh. “No thanks needed, Spettro.”
I clear my throat and give his ass cheek one more squeeze. “Go get dressed.”
He glances over his shoulder with a questioning look, and I just jerk my head towards the hallway that leads to the bedroom. He doesn’t argue, but he does keep one eye on me until he disappears from view.
My hands shake as I stuff my spent cock away and zip up. My gloves are covered in cum and lube, so I pull them off and stuff them into my back pocket, then I stand up and slip into the kitchen.
On the counter, his laptop is open, but the screen is black, and there’s a folder next to it full of newspaper clippings about the Sleepless Reaper killings.
I still don’t know if his interest in The Ghost is his own or if it has to do with the Morettis, and I’m obviously not going to find out tonight.
Maybe I could try to get more out of him now that he’s loosened up and satisfied, but I can’t stay here another minute, not right now.
Everything inside of me feels too raw, like an exposed nerve.
I spot what I came in here looking for, a pen and a pad of paper next to the refrigerator.
I grab them and jot down my number. It’s just a burner cell anyway.
If I decide that getting any closer to Alessio is a bad idea, I’ll just get a new one sooner than I planned and he won’t have any way to reach me.
I hesitate for just a second. I feel like I should write something more than just my phone number, but I can’t think of what, so I leave it at that and hurry out of the apartment before he finishes getting dressed.
I skip the elevator and find the stairs instead, taking them two at a time until I reach the ground floor and practically sprint out into the night.
At least I won’t dream about the Reapers tonight. And something tells me that if I do wake up with an aching craving clawing at the pit of my belly, it won’t be meth that’s on my mind.