Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
GHOST
As soon as I swing my leg through Alessio’s window, I tug off my mask and stuff it back into my jacket pocket.
He would assume I just came from another B&E anyway, not a murder, but it feels less messy if I can avoid raising any questions.
My heart is still thundering with adrenaline and I haven’t slept in thirty-some hours, but it doesn’t matter.
I could run a fucking marathon right now.
Fuck sleep, there’s nothing more restorative than ridding this city of two more Reapers.
Well, maybe there’s one thing that could be equally thrilling and energizing…
Alessio’s apartment is dark and silent though.
I left the club before him, but it seemed like he was on his way out too.
It should have been plenty of time for him to get back, unless he made another stop on the way.
Maybe he’s getting back at me for leaving last night by making me wait.
Amusement tugs at my lips. I wonder what kind of punishment he’s hoping for.
A spanking? Orgasm denial? He’s such a slut for being bred, I could waste my release painting that pretty face of his to teach him a lesson about making me wait.
My cock was already hard from the surge of adrenaline and the promise of another night with my slut, but it throbs impatiently now.
The cravings for him were bad enough during the day, but being inside his apartment where I can still hear his moans echoing off the walls and smell the spicy scent of his expensive bodywash permeating the air, I’m right on the edge of madness.
I need to devour his mouth and feel the heat of his skin under my hands.
I need to hear him beg for me more than I need my next breath.
I don’t know how long I’ve been standing in the dark, imagining a thousand ways to make Alessio gasp my name—Spettro—when I hear a key in the lock.
I stride across the apartment in the dark to meet him at the front door as soon as it swings open.
He’s shrouded in shadows, backlit by the hallway light, and the surprised gasp he lets out when he realizes I’m there makes my cock jerk and drool.
“Where the hell is your self-preservation, slut? There’s someone lurking in your apartment, ready to ambush you at the door, and you don’t pull your gun?” I scold, grabbing a fistful of his suit jacket and pulling him inside.
He kicks the door shut behind him just in time for me to slam him up against it, crowding in close so I can drag in a deep inhale of the smell of his skin and feel the heat of his breath against my face. He doesn’t smell like alcohol tonight, just sweat and the fading scent of spearmint.
“I already knew it was you,” he says, tilting his chin half an inch, wordlessly begging for my mouth on his.
“But you don’t know who I am,” I remind him.
He chuckles, his eyes meeting mine in the dark. “If you were here to kill me, you wouldn’t waste time scolding me. I’d already be bleeding on the floor.”
I grunt. He’s got a point there. I don’t like the image though, and I definitely don’t like how careless he’s been all day.
I grab his jaw and inch my lips closer to his, so close that he can feel the brush of them with every word I whisper.
“Be more careful. I don’t have the time to hunt down the Fitzgeralds or whoever the fuck else if they get a shot off just because you’re distracted daydreaming about how deep you want me to fuck you.
” I nip at his bottom lip and his hips jerk, grinding his hard cock against mine through too many layers of fabric.
“I’ve survived this long, Spettro. Sweet of you to worry about me though.”
I huff a rusty laugh. I’m not sure sweet is the right word. Obsessed? Possessive? Right on the fucking edge of losing the last shreds of my sanity? Those would all be better ways of putting it. He’s under my skin now, whether I like it or not.
Digging my fingers a little harder into his jaw, I crash my mouth into his, growling against the heat of his lips as they give way under mine.
He feeds me a needy moan that reverberates inside my mouth and stokes the well of hunger and desperation in my chest. I snake my tongue between his lips to tangle it with his, hot and wet and fucking ravenous.
Images of that kid fleeing into the night, the Reapers on their knees, sniveling and begging, and memories of last night with Alessio all mingle inside my mind, making me feel invincible and righteous, fanning the dwindling embers of adrenaline back into a raging flame.
I slide my fingers from his jaw up into his hair, tugging him away from the door and down the short, dark hallway.
He happily stumbles after me, whimpering around my tongue and reaching for me.
I hate the way my muscles tense before his fingers can even brush against my thin T-shirt underneath my jacket. I hate the wisps of nightmares and fragmented memories I can feel hovering right on the edge of my thoughts.
“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, already breathless, pulling back just an inch so he can look at me again in the dark.
We’re standing in the mouth of the hallway now, with light coming in through the living room windows, and I’m tempted to look away from him so he can’t do that thing again where he studies me like he’s trying to see all the way down to my soul.
My jaw ticks. I don’t need to tell him everything, but if we’re going to be fucking regularly for the foreseeable future, I need to tell him my hard limits.
“I don’t like to be touched.” I force myself to answer through clenched teeth. “I don’t like the feeling of anyone’s hands on me, and I don’t want to feel your skin against my bare skin.”
Alessio quickly pulls his hands back like he just touched a hot stove, then goes deathly still, studying me again like I hoped he wouldn’t.
I can’t make myself look away this time though.
His hazel eyes search mine, and I can see his eyebrows pulling together a fraction at a time, the muscles in his face tensing one by one as he comes to the inevitable conclusion.
“Who?” he hisses. “Tell me who the fuck hurt you, and I swear on my own fucking life that I’ll hunt them down and shove my gun so far down their throats that they’ll shit out the bullets.”
A warm feeling floods my chest. It’s the same one I felt last night when he told me he couldn’t stop thinking about me. It’s fucking terrifying and comforting, pulling me deeper into this addiction I’m developing for him.
“I’ve survived this long.” I echo his words back to him with a rumble of a laugh, untangling my fingers from his hair to wrap my hand gently around his throat, not squeezing, just feeling the blunted warmth of his skin and the bob of his swallow through my leather glove. “Thank you, though.”
Is that the answer I came here hoping for yesterday?
If I tell him the full truth, will he really be willing to help me wipe out the rest of the Sleepless Reapers?
Fuck, I want to find out. But if I’m wrong, if the Morettis already have some kind of alliance with them, this whole damn thing could go sideways.
I need to find out more before I risk it.
“I’ll keep my hands to myself, Spettro, I promise. You can even tie me up again if it helps.” His lips hover close, waiting for me to claim them again with a bite or a kiss. “You’re in charge, Sir.”
I groan and yank him back into a tongue-heavy kiss, tugging at his clothes and savoring every muffled sound he feeds me as I pull him down the hallway to his bedroom.
ALESSIO
Rage boils and churns in my gut, fueling rougher kisses between us as I keep my hands to myself and let Spettro slowly strip me.
My tie, my suit jacket, my shirt, each disappears, leaving a trail all the way down the hallway in the dark.
We pause in the doorway to my bedroom so I can toe my shoes off while he tugs on my belt with one hand and gently squeezes my throat with the other.
“I forgot how to feel things, Alessio,” he murmurs against my lips. “But the minute you put your gun to my head you opened an entire fucking Pandora’s box of emotions that might have been better off left buried.”
Frustration wars with reverence in his tone, and I don’t know whether I’m supposed to apologize or tell him he’s welcome.
He shoves me up against the doorframe, the edge of it pressing into my spine.
I don’t fight him though, I melt into his touch and let the pain reassure me that I’m not dreaming, that he really is here again, kissing me and telling me things I don’t think he’s told anyone else.
“It was too much. It is too much,” he growls.
“That’s why you left,” I say, and he squeezes my throat a little bit tighter for just a second before he nods. “So, why did you come back?”
“You’re my new addiction,” he rasps, pulling me away from the doorframe before pushing me into my bedroom.
He lets go of me at the same time, and I stumble a few steps towards my bed before catching myself and turning to look at him, bathed in moonlight, looking like he can’t decide whether he should fuck me again or save himself the trouble and kill me.
My cock aches and so does my hole, still tender from last night.
“Is that such a bad thing?” I lick my lips and put my hands behind my back so I won’t accidentally reach out and try to touch him.
“My last addiction killed me,” he says ominously.
“I’ve never killed anyone who fucks as well as you do, so I think you’re safe.” The joke leaves my lips before I can think any better of it. If running my mouth without thinking gets me into trouble twice in one day, I might consider Elio’s ball gag idea.
But Spettro doesn’t seem pissed. No, he laughs. A real laugh this time, deep and warm and sexy as hell. He closes the half foot of space between us again, backing me up towards the bed.
“That’s reassuring,” he deadpans. “Take off your pants and get on the bed.”
I unholster my gun first and go around to place it on the nightstand, then I strip out of my pants, letting them pool at my feet.
I have on a dark blue lace thong tonight, and I hear the rumble of horny appreciation in his throat as he gets an eyeful of it.
The delicate fabric barely manages to contain my stiff cock, and my precum oozes between the tiny gaps in the lace.
I crawl onto my bed, the silk sheets brushing against my overheated skin as sensually as a lover’s touch.
Do I wish I could feel Spettro’s bare, sweaty skin on mine while he fucks me?
Of course I do. But the warm leather of his gloves is a fair compromise to have him in my bed.
The thought of his gloves reminds me of the spare one I have tucked into my bedside drawer, right next to a bottle of lube.
I lie down in the center of my king-sized bed and squeeze my cock through my panties while I wait to see what my Spettro is going to tell me to do next.
He stares at me for a long minute, his eyes raking over every inch of my bare skin like part of him wishes he could feel it too.
His jaw ticks, and I want to ask what he’s thinking so hard about, but before I can, he makes a determined noise in his throat and shrugs out of his jacket.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him without it.
Both of his arms are covered in tattoos that go all the way down to his wrists.
A large wing peeks out from under the sleeve of his T-shirt and extends down to his elbow on one arm, and the rest is a patchwork of roses and antique keys, barbed wire, and words I can’t make out in the dark.
He flexes his gloved hands and kicks off his shoes, dropping his jacket on the floor with a soft thump.
He climbs onto my bed in his jeans and T-shirt and positions himself on top of me, pinning my arms over my head and straddling my thighs. He leans in close again, and I notice his blinks slowing. The heat is still simmering in his eyes, but there’s exhaustion there too that he can’t hide.
“You look tired.”
“Not your best dirty talk, slut.” He gives me a twitch of a smile. “But, yeah, I am. If I’m being honest, I didn’t sleep last night and I was riding an adrenaline high when I got here, but it’s starting to fade.”
“What if…” I swallow hard, nerves prickling at the back of my neck at the high likelihood of rejection. He might leave again.
“Say it,” he coaxes.
“What if we take a raincheck on another round of rough, wild fucking and you let me take care of you?”
He frowns. “Take care of me how?”
“Let me show you? If you hate it, you can tie me up and crawl out the window again,” I bargain. He huffs another laugh, then slowly nods. “Okay, lay down and take your cock out.”
Spettro hesitates for another second before he climbs off me.
He grabs the unused pillow and fluffs it a little, then lies down next to me.
The sound of his zipper sends a hot shiver through me.
I shimmy down the bed and carefully position myself between his legs, doing my best to avoid touching him.
He keeps his eyes on me the whole time with a mixture of curiosity and nerves.
That edge of dominance and authority is still there, hardening every second, ready to take over and protect him from feeling vulnerable if he needs to.
“I want to suck you, Sir,” I explain. “Not to get you off, just to make your cock warm and cozy in my mouth while you go to sleep.”
My dick jerks excitedly, but I ignore it. Of course I want to get off, but I want to take care of him more. I saw the look in his eyes when I offered to kill whoever hurt him. No one has made my Spettro feel safe, but I want to. I need to.
He swallows hard. “I have nightmares. I could wake up and hurt you.”
“I’m not scared,” I say without hesitation. “You’re safe here, Spettro. Sir.”
“You might be the most dangerous addiction I’ve ever had,” he whispers, and I’m sure he’s about to tuck his hard, throbbing cock away and leave. But instead, he threads his fingers through my hair and tugs me down, fisting the base of his cock and pressing the spongy head to my already parted lips.
I sigh happily as he rocks his hips, filling my mouth with his hot, silky cock. I shift around just a little more to make myself comfortable and rest my head on his thigh. His cock twitches between my lips, spilling a drop of precum onto my tongue.
“That’s good, slut,” he says softly, stroking his fingers through my hair.
I suckle him and watch the way his eyelashes flutter and the tension slowly starts to melt from his face, his body sinking deeper and deeper into the bed as he lets himself relax.
My eyelids start to get heavy too, and I don’t fight the urge to close them, sucking gently on Spettro’s cock as we both drift off to sleep.