Chapter 24
Dario “Dash” Mangiacavallo
A low, menacing growl filled my eardrums, striking a chilling chord of fear in my gut.
Do it, Jack. Pull the fucking trigger! If she goes, I go. She won’t leave this world without me. Do it, Jackyl! Vincent shouted, his voice echoing and garbled from the distance. Hurry, don’t let her be alone over there.
His thick, tatted arm lifted and pointed his Glock, hatred shimmering in his dark eyes. Rot in hell, Vin.
Terror hit like a steel fist and I snorted, screaming, “No!” while thrashing about. Something pinched at my skin, pain exploding all over my body. Whimpering, my arms folded over my torso, and I curled somewhat on my side, sweat dripping from my face.
“Hey, hey.” Vincent was speaking quietly near my ear, his palm tenderly pushing on my shoulders. “Shh, calm down. It’s okay. Open your eyes, Dash. Look at me.”
My heart beating at a dangerously rapid pace, my lungs were burning without air. Squinting against the darkness, I looked up at him, trying to figure out what the actual fuck was going on.
“Hey, look at me. You see me?”
Though the panic was lessening, my pulse was not slowing. “Yes,” I whispered.
He was standing next to my bed, bent at the waist. Casting a nervous glance across the hospital room at Tyler sleeping, he gradually sat down, tugging his nape. “It was a nightmare, everything’s okay.”
“Is it?” I asked, the trepidation rising all over.
He coughed and glanced his way again. “Bitch. Hey, bitch. You awake?”
As the seconds ticked by where he watched him, I studied his profile in the dimly lit room. When Tyler didn’t react, I hesitantly lifted my hand and touched his cheek, the thin stubble tickling my palms.
He choked on a breath and tensed, jerking his wide-eyed attention my way. Gulping, he closed his mouth and scooted closer so we could talk quietly. “How are you?”
“Hurt like hell,” I tried to chuckle, realizing too late what a mistake that was. Sucking the back of my teeth, my spine arched a bit, just to relax a few inches to the side in an attempt to get more comfortable. “Are you okay?”
His head bobbing, he rested his elbow on the railing, his fingers pressing to his temple as he stared at me somberly. “Just some shattered ribs. Thought the nose was broke, but it’s good.”
The fear curdling my stomach, I muttered on a shaky breath, “But he shot you.”
One side of his face scrunched with a cluck of his teeth. “Eh, it grazed me. All superficial. Tiny got it worse than me. She was just grazed, too, but a lot deeper, and she has some staples in her head.”
I flinched, feeling queasy with the mental images. “Fuck. And bitch?”
“Got about as many new holes as you do. Throw in some busted ribs, too, and he’s pretty much jacked up for the foreseeable future.”
My mouth running dry, I had to know. “His knee. His…good knee…”
He flinched and bowed his chin, his fingers now massaging circles between his eyes. “Shattered.”
My eyelashes fluttered closed with a drawn-out curse, shame riddling my body. “Jesus, I ruined him.”
“Hey, hey.” He sat up and leaned closer. “Listen, don’t go there. This ain’t your fault. Jackyl did this. He’s been behind all this since 2010. We’re all victims of his in some way or another.”
I huffed, only part of me acknowledging that fact. Still, another part would hate myself forever for my role in what happened to Tyler.
“Are we…o-okay, Dash?”
Taken aback by the question, my head rolled on the shitty pillow to squint with confusion. “What do you mean?”
He gulped and squirmed about a minute. “You know, with what…Ahem. With what happened. Between us. When everything went to hell.”
My veins shrunk. “Oh. You mean…sex—”
“Yes,” he hissed, shooting a glare at Tyler who was still asleep.
I pulled a slow, shallow breath to avoid triggering the pain from the wounds and gazed up at the ceiling, pondering that question.
How did I feel about that? At the moment, it had been the single most erotic, pleasurable thing I’d ever felt.
I’d fucked plenty of women in the ass over the years, but none gripped my dick quite like Vincent had.
And the way my body curved against him so damn perfectly, our movements matching almost as if we were one person was pretty amazing.
Had we not been interrupted, that would have absolutely been the most incredible orgasm of my entire life.
From Vincent. A man. My friend. My brother. It was kind of hard to hang on to that “gays are gross” mentality when I had literally begged that man to fuck me and make me cum.
So, what did that mean? Was I gay? Did I still want pussy?
Lying here, the agony consuming every inch of my body made it kind of hard to feel lust, but when I pictured having sex again, it wasn’t glistening pink pussy my brain was fantasizing about, it was a hard body with thin hair covering his chest. Tattoos decorating slightly bulky muscles, calloused hands, smooth ass, tightest fucking hole ever, and a long, thick cock that had tasted amazing.
It was a gruff, baritone groan I longed to hear, not a dainty moan.
I wanted to taste those nuts, not bouncing tits.
Instead of soft, pouty lips, I wanted firm ones with a thin beard. A beard. I hated beards.
Shit. There was a pretty good chance I was gay now. Did that mean I always had been but had been in denial? Or was everything I was feeling, for him, alone?
Rolling my head to gaze at him, my heart swelled into my ribs, the space shrinking to build a small pressure. Unsure what to say or think, I acted on feelings and dragged my knuckles along his jawline. His brows lifted, a hand sliding up my forearm to hold my hand.
“As soon as you get outta here, you need to shave.”
He frowned and tipped his head. “What?”
My pulse skipping, I whispered, “If I’m gonna be kissing a man, I at least want smooth skin.”
His eyelids rounded and he blanched, a breath catching the back of his throat. His lips smacking a bit, he gulped and opened his mouth to pant quickly. “Dash.”
Exhilaration shot through my system, savoring that sound.
Stretching my arm to hook the side of his neck, I pulled him closer, the smile falling.
His expression one of uncertainty, he inched nearer, holding my stare.
Even as our lips meshed and our tongues rolled together, neither of us looked away.
I added pressure to my fingertips, flicking my tongue to the roof of his mouth.
Finally, he groaned and closed his eyes, succumbing to the kiss.
Every nerve prickled with fire, and I gave in, as well, delighting in kissing my male best friend. So, this was my life now. Looked like I was into the gayness. With Vincent, I could be okay with it.