19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Marco
I 'd never moved faster than I had when I jumped off the back of Bran’s bike as soon as he stopped alongside the brick wall in the empty parking lot of a gas station. I was so fucking mad, I couldn't think straight. Mad. Irate. Livid. For so many different reasons. Moretti's men had started the spiral. Bran’s antics with my fucking gun only made it worse. The icing on the cake was the all-consuming need to keep him safe and how impossible that was. Sure, the idea had worked, but that didn't make it any less stupid. I wanted to wring his fucking neck. I also wanted to kiss him stupid, and that urge only made me angrier.
I whipped my helmet off and threw it to the ground, pacing a small circle as I checked my phone and sent half a dozen messages in as many seconds. The replies from my brother and Jericho only barely softened the edges of my rage. At least they were safe. I was safe. Bran was safe. Relief mixed with the residual anger as I continued to stalk the dark parking lot.
“You good?” Brandon. Bran with his smug smile and casual demeanor. Bran looking sexy as sin slung over the handlebars of the bike.
“No. No, I am not fucking good.” I reeled on him, advancing before I could think better of it. Proximity with Bran always made me do reckless impulsive things. He was well and truly burrowed under my skin and I couldn't excise him, even if I wanted to. Which I didn't, but he didn't need to know that.
“Talk me through it.” He sat up straighter before ultimately climbing off the bike to stand toe to toe with me. A hand landed on my chest and it was game over. I folded like a house of cards in a stiff breeze.
“Fuck you,” I groused, even as I pulled him into my arms and crushed him against my chest. “Fuck you, Brandon. Don't ever do something that stupid again.”
“Mm, ‘kay.” His arms wound around my waist and he chuckled into my neck. It sent a shiver down my spine. “Just a heads up though… I probably will.”
“Hate you.”
“I really don't think you do.”
My shaking hands traveled up his spine underneath the material of his jacket, aimlessly pawing and clinging as the fear and anger swirled in my system. Greedy for more, for reassurance I could never voice out loud, I inhaled his scent and held it deep in my lungs. If I could somehow absorb him into my body, I would. The dumb fuck would likely get himself killed one day if I didn't.
“Marc?”
I grunted a reply into the curve of his neck and took another deeply indulgent breath.
“We’re okay?”
“Yeah. I guess.” I reluctantly loosened my hold on him and pulled back to search his face in the low light. Gone was the smirk. Nowhere to be found was the smugness or lack of concern. My breath caught in my throat as I examined his expression to find only open, honest care and a nagging sense of worry amid the glittering reflection of a lone street light in his eyes.
“I'm sorry. I mean it. All I could think about was getting you out of their before—”
I grabbed his jaw and crashed our mouths together. I didn't need to hear more. He'd done exactly what I likely would have if the tables had been turned. Hell, my first impulse when the assholes surrounded us was to put myself in front of him. He’d done the exact same thing countless times before. Turns out, I wasn't pissed at him for what he did. I was pissed because he could have been hurt and I wouldn't have been able to do anything about it except to go down with him. I didn't need more words or excuses or apologies. I just needed him .
His hands dug into my sides as I angled myself to better fuse our lips together, my tongue instantly invading his mouth as if I could consume him. We’d never kissed—hell, I hadn't kissed anyone in years. The second our mouths met and our tongues tangled, I hated myself for every missed opportunity to have done this sooner. A soft moan slipped from his lips to mine and it only fueled the fervor higher. I devoured the sound and was hungry for more. Famished. Desperate. Needy.
Bran was just as incensed, hands everywhere all at once as he pushed and shoved and manhandled me until my back hit the cold brick of the empty building. It forced another grunt from my chest as our lips parted, reunited, and parted again. I couldn't breathe but I didn't care. I didn't care at all. I'd gladly die if it meant more of this intoxicating bliss. Scowling, I spun us in place until it was Bran’s back to the wall and my body holding him there. Once I had him pinned, I dove right back into devouring his mouth.
Lips and teeth and tongues battled together, each of us taking turns nipping and sucking and trying to take back the control. The dance was a heady one. The brutal eroticism of voracious kissing had me hard as a rock and panting for more. So much so, I actually growled when he pulled away again, pushing a hand to my chest to hold me back from my onslaught.
“Stop… Marc…”
One single word was enough to pull the plug. I froze before recoiling, my hands flying back as though I'd touched something too hot and gotten burned. Panic tried to take hold as I scanned his features, desperate to find what I'd done wrong.
“Shit, baby, no… Jesus, Marc. You don't have to freak out…” Bran grabbed my shirt and hauled my body closer, nuzzling my jaw as he lowered his voice. “I was just going to tell you that I packed a bottle of lube in the back of the bike this morning. I didn't mean stop. I very much meant go, go, go.”
He might as well have been speaking a foreign language. My brain short circuited and my heart kicked up at the same time. Lube? Bike? What? Did he really mean what I thought he meant?
“Marc… lube. Get it. That was the hottest kiss of my entire fucking life and if I don't get your cock in my ass right this fucking second, my dick will explode.” He shoved at my chest with a feral grin.
“Jesus fuck,” I grumbled, stepping to the side enough to reach the small storage container strapped under the rear fender of the bike. Sure as shit, there was a bottle of lube inside, safety sealed and all. A frisson of excitement mixed with apprehension skittered through my body. Lacking my full faculties as the blood rushed from my head to my dick, I gruffly shoved the bottle into his hands.
With a brilliant, carefree laugh, Bran fumbled opening the bottle as I stood staring in dumbstruck awe. There were a million thoughts racing through my head, so many I couldn't catch even a single one for more than a few seconds. All the scattered thoughts coalesced into one obsession as soon as he finagled his pants over his hips, squirted a hefty dollop of lube onto his fingers, and reached behind himself. My hand instantly flew to my groin to palm my throbbing dick through my pants.
“Someone’s excited, huh?” His taunting words and sultry voice sent a shiver coursing down my spine and forced my body to move. I was on him in a flash. My hands grabbed his head, angled it back, and pulled it closer as my lips reconnected with his in another kiss full of fervor and a need so desperate, I didn't know how I would survive. I didn’t know how I'd survived this long without him.
I stifled a groan as his hand reappeared, jerking at my jeans and belt until he hand both open. I gasped and groaned again as cold lube hit my burning hot dick, and the sound that came out of me once his hand wrapped around the length was neither groan nor gasp, but somehow both at the same time. I was already dancing on a hair trigger and I hadn't even felt his body coiled tight around me yet. Bran tore our mouths apart with a gasp, working my cock harder and faster as he did.
“Marc, it's a yes. I want you. I want this. And I want it rough. Got it?” His eyes darted over my face—his lust-drunk gaze, flushed cheeks, and kiss-swollen lips would be my undoing.
“Yeah… turn around…” I sucked my teeth to stifle another groan as he spun on a dime, his hands flying to the wall as the lube fell to the ground. The second he arched his back and the low light illuminated the smooth globes of his ass, I was done. There was no going back from this and I couldn't find a single fuck to give about that fact.
He leaned into my touch as my trembling hands coasted over the warm skin, kneading and spreading him wide. I'd never considered a man’s body attractive the way I did Bran’s. Something about him, something uniquely him, had burrowed into my brain and I was obsessed. All I could think was “mine” as I shifted one hand to steady the base of my cock and notched the head against his glistening, puckered hole.
“Make it hurt, baby. Make it hurt so good.”
“Shut up,” I muttered through grit teeth, pushing forward against the supple yet unyielding ring of muscle. I was already a breath away from coming. Dirty talk would leave me with an embarrassingly short performance period. Naturally, he didn't listen.
“Fuck, yes. Marc, fuck me like you hate me.” He pushed back against me, his palms splayed on the wall, and I swore under my breath as the pressure around my dick became damn near lethal with every slow inch that sank into his tight heat.
Bran shuddered from head-to-toe, a sinful groan falling from his lips once I was fully seated. It was everything and yet not enough. I pressed one palm against his lower stomach and settled the second under his chin, needing him closer despite the fact that we were already as close as two people could possibly be. With his body pulled tight against mine, I rocked my hips back and thrust forward. His grunt ignited wildfires in my core—my need for him became a primal, feral thing that grew in size until I could only concentrate on the impossible clench of him around my cock and the way his pulse raced under my palm.
Another snap of my hips had him grunting and his fingernails going white as he clung to the brick wall. I needed more of that sound. I needed all his sounds. Slow and steady snaps gradually became harder thrusts, each one of them fusing us back together until I couldn't figure out where I started and he ended. There was just us, a fusion of madness and passion and dirty, raunchy need that we could only satisfy like this. I hadn't even finished fucking him and I was already hungry for the next time I could have him.
Bran’s hand slid from the wall, pushing my palm lower over his stomach as he arched his back even deeper with a wanton groan. Breathy pleas fell from his lips. “Please. Please, Marc?”
It took me a second to realize what he wanted. What he needed. With a growling groan, I doubled my efforts while wrapping my hand around his cock. God, he was so hard. Never had I ever willingly touched another man’s dick before. Now, with him? I needed it. I craved it. I stroked him as rough and recklessly as I fucked his ass and reveled in every whimper and whine it brought to his lips. I fucked him like I wanted to break him in half with my cock, all the while holding him together in my arms as if I could keep it from happening by sheer force alone.
His body grew taut, his cries became strained, and with a full-body spasm, he came over my fist. The force of his orgasm made his ass constrict around my cock, and I grew incensed by it. Harder, deeper, wilder, I fucked him through his climax as I chased my own until that blissful, beautiful euphoria crashed through my body and whited out my vision. My teeth bit down on the sweat-soaked skin of his neck as I muffled a groan, my balls drawing up and my body tensing as my cock throbbed and pulsed, flooding him with my cum. Another thrust, another moan, and then the most powerful sense of serenity washed over me as I cling to his panting, trembling body.
With my cock buried deep in the body of a man I once loathed and now couldn't lose, my heart thump-thumping in time with the beat of his, I found my lighthouse in the storm. The light at the end of the tunnel. No matter what happened with my family, my legacy, me… one thing became apparent—none of it mattered unless I could share it with him. My grip loosened and I mourned the disconnect as my softening dick slid from his ass, but one thing remained true above all others. Brandon was mine. Brandon was mine and I would never, ever let him go.