Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
V aro’s kiss consumes me on a whole other level, like he’s trying to claim every inch of my soul. He tastes of bourbon and bad choices, cigarettes and sin, and it’s something I’ll never get enough of. He’s become the addiction I didn’t know I needed until I saw the look in his eyes. That feral prowess he exuded when he watched me earlier tonight; I was the prey caught in his sights, and like a predator, he caught me. The unspoken war between us simmers beneath the skin, the battle to fight this toxic energy is futile because his possessiveness is like poison seeping into my bloodstream. I crave it. I crave the lethal concoction of desire and danger. The explosiveness that comes when we’re together. I want to feel the burn, let the fire melt the skin from my bones.
I’ve never taken the time to acknowledge what this is between us until now, until he admitted how he really felt. Though he didn’t say the words, I could hear the ones he wasn’t saying. The ones that said I was his.
He slams my body against the door to his apartment, a rough gasp escaping me from the force. How we got here without tearing each other’s clothes off is still a mystery, but I can’t wait any longer. I rub his hard cock over his slacks, relishing the groan that breaks our kiss.
“You keep doing that and I’ll be fucking you in this corridor,” he pants, resting his forehead against the door.
I run my lips over his ear, feeling him shiver against me. “Then get the fucking door open, Vee.”
He shoves his key into the lock impatiently, the door swinging wide and banging against the wall as he spins around and yanks me inside. His lips crash onto mine while he works at removing my clothes. In seconds, he’s shoving my naked body onto the couch, a puff of air escaping my parted lips as I stare up at him, raking my gaze over his gloriously defined muscles.
I lick my lips, anticipation making my dick painfully hard as I take him in. The man emanates pure sex, his body sinfully chiseled in the most dangerous way. I could stare at Vee’s body all day and never get bored of it. I could lose myself in his tortured gaze, his deviant mouth, and the words that always catch me off guard, and I wouldn’t hesitate to drop to my knees.
His dark eyes search mine, the space between us charged, every second stretching into eternity. Then he drags his piercing glare over my form, like blades to the skin. I feel him on every inch of me, and he hasn’t even touched me yet. “You fucked up tonight, Kyrovsky.” His voice is low and rough, a razor’s edge slicing through my restraint.
Varo crawls over my body, licking a wet, hot path up my chest. I tilt my head back against the armrest, gasping at his possessive touch as I run a hand through his hair, but that only makes him grab my wrist with iron strength, pinning it above my head. When his mouth reaches my throat and he nips at the skin, a painful groan escapes me. His hungry kisses line my jaw, moving towards my mouth but never touching. My resolve wanes as he teases me over and over. Every graze of our mouths, every trace of his tongue, leaves me breathless until I can’t take anymore.
And then his lips crash onto mine, all teeth and fury, like he’s punishing me for something neither of us can name. I meet him with equal force, shoving my free hand into his hair, tugging hard. It only makes him growl, makes him press closer, his body a wall of heat against mine. His tongue delves into my mouth, the tension between us so thick I can feel it buzzing through my veins. We’ve always had this vibrant energy bouncing between us, the push and pull that we constantly fight—him, more than me—but this is something else.
He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, his teeth tugging. And then I feel it. Sharp pain blooms where his teeth sink into my lower lip, the sting quickly swallowed by something deeper, something darker. I taste the metallic tang of my own blood, feel the way his tongue sweeps over it, possessively claiming it.
“Vee,” I hiss against his mouth, but it comes out wrecked, nothing like the warning it should be.
He pulls back just enough for me to see the smirk of satisfaction on his face. His lips are stained red, my blood painting his mouth like a goddamn work of art.
“You like that, don’t you?”
I don’t answer. I don’t need to. My body betrays me, my chin tilting up in silent defiance. His hand curls around my jaw as he leans down to graze the bite again with his tongue. My hips jerk against his without thought, and he chuckles darkly.
“Call this a reminder,” he murmurs, thumb smearing blood along my lip before pressing into my mouth.
I suck his thumb, watching the way his pupils blow wide, the way his chest rises with a sharp inhale. I don’t ask what the reminder is, I already know. His narrowed gaze fills me with enough confidence to know what he means.
He draws his thumb out of my mouth slowly, exhaling shakily at the same time. Then he’s on me again, harder this time, hungrier. There’s nothing soft in the way he kisses me—it’s a battle, a claim, a war I have no interest in winning.
Because losing to Varo never felt so fucking good.
His hand travels between our heaving bodies, gripping my throbbing cock and pumping languidly.
“Fuck,” I moan, my voice gravelly. “Fuck me already.”
Varo pulls away, his lips stretched wide. Using his knee, he widens my legs and leans back to fist his cock, spitting on the tip before lining it up against my ass. “Keep begging like that, Kyrovsky. I love the sound.”
He pushes his hips forward, grunting as he slips past the ring of muscle. He fills me everywhere, so deliciously that my eyes roll to the back of my head. He slowly rides my body, no words exchanged. Instead, our lips connect and the feral energy suddenly shifts to something deeper, something I can’t explain. The pace is slow, but the depth is brutal, and even though he’s hitting me so hard, I find myself gripping his ass, desperately seeking more.
Our heavy breaths fill the silence. Every movement is calculated, meant to unravel me. His lips part just enough for me to taste him, his hand moving to my throat to keep me where he wants me. When he finally sucks my bottom lip between his teeth, it’s not just hunger—it’s possession, a whispered promise of everything he plans to take. The throbbing of my lip has subsided, but the remnants of his mark still linger, just like he said; a reminder.
“Beg for it, Milo,” he pants as he inches back onto his knees, disconnecting the kiss so he can drive his hips forward harder. He grips my thighs, fingers sinking into the flesh. The new angle pushes me closer to the edge, and it takes everything in me to hold on. His hand grips my cock, stroking in time with his punishing thrusts.
My eyes close and I lose myself to Varo, to the sensations charging through my body. His fist pumps me firmly, sweat surfacing across my chest. My balls tighten, my ass clenches, and just when the frisson of something dark and electric races down my spine, Varo pulls his hand away. My breaths heave as I lock eyes with him, his own chest puffing from the exertion. My cock throbs, the ache for release dulling my senses.
“Vee,” I choke out.
His eyes darken. It’s almost animalistic, feral and dominating. “I said, beg.” His voice is hoarse and commanding, and I shudder beneath him as anticipation rattles through me.
“Please,” I croak.
He raises a brow, lips thinning. “I think you can do better than that.” He seizes my shaft, giving it a teasing stroke that has my back arching.
“Please!” It comes out as a whimper, something completely alien to me, but it provides the power Vee wants.
He pulls his hips back, slamming into me, using my body until I’m seeing stars and tingling everywhere. Thick cum paints my stomach at the same time as Varo jerks forward, filling my ass with his hot release. He sinks on top of me, his mouth pressing to mine as he slowly relaxes. I’m so lost in the euphoria that for a moment, I forget everything but the heat of his body, his sweaty skin on mine and the way he tastes. I forget about the chaos that is my life, and the people I work for. I forget about the feud, and the battles to come.
I just forget.
* * *
“L et’s be honest, you weren’t really gonna take that fuckboy back to your place.” Varo’s voice is hesitant, despite the mocking confidence he exudes.
“What’re you saying?” I laugh, leaning against the headboard as I admire Vee’s ass in the bathroom. I’m not going to admit that he’s right. Of course I enjoyed the look on his face when I was getting hit on, but I won’t tell him that I told the guy to fuck off. There’s only one guy I’m interested in, and I’m in his fucking bed.
Varo locks eyes with me in the mirror, that familiar possessive look occupying his green gaze. He turns around, shoving his dick into his boxers. “I’m saying…” he kneels on the bed, shuffling closer to me. “I don’t think he’s your type.”
“Oh yeah?” I tease, leaning forward to press my nose to his. “And what is my type?”
He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, groaning when a sliver of blood seeps out. He releases it with a gentle pop, eyes softening onto mine. “I think we both know the answer to that.”
I chuckle at his confidence, shoving him back playfully as he drops onto the mattress beside me. “Is that why you came to the club tonight?”
He rolls his eyes, grabbing his pack of smokes and taking one out. He passes me the box while he lights his up, eyes transfixed on the glowing tip.
It’s funny that once the tension has been fucked out of us, we can fall into effortless conversation. Vee is a different person when he’s not fighting me, and I guess I’m someone else around him, too. But that’s all I know about the guy. After two years, I still find it weird that I know so little about him other than the obvious.
“I needed to keep an eye on my sister,” he finally answers, expelling a cloud of smoke.
“She in trouble?” I ask, sparking up my own cigarette.
Varo shakes his head, but I’m not convinced. “Not as far as I know, but she was in your club, so…”
“You don’t need to worry about her being there. I’ll make sure of that.”
He turns his head to me, eyes narrowing slightly. They survey me quietly, like he’s trying to work something out. Whatever it is, he doesn’t voice his thoughts. He turns his attention ahead of him, thumb flicking the filter absentmindedly. He exhales quietly, pushing his head back against the headboard. “I have to protect her. Everyone knows who we are. She’s not safe, even around the police.”
I don’t disagree with him. The police are corrupt, mainly because of The Five, but if he even had the slightest hint at what I know, he’d have more validation. Nodding, I suck on my cigarette and fall into silence.
“You can trust me that nothing will happen to her while I’m around.”
Vee pauses, his gaze falling on me. “Can I?”
“Trust me?” I clarify, tasting the lie already sitting on my tongue. “Yeah. You can.”
Silence wraps around us for a brief moment, the shadows swallowing up my thoughts. Lying comes so easily usually, especially when it comes to my enemies. It’s almost instinctive. But when I’m with Varo, the bitterness seeps into my veins, festering on the half-truths that keep falling from my lips.
“You know she’s joining the NYPD?” he suddenly says, laughing incredulously.
My brows raise as I stare back at him. “Your sister?”
He lifts his chin, jaw feathering slightly as he confirms.
“Shit. Guessing your family isn’t too happy about that?”
“You can say that again. She’s fallen out with Dad. We’ve only just started speaking again. It’s just a fucking mess right now, all because she doesn’t want to be a part of our life.”
Our life. It’s ridiculous how dejected I feel at those two words, because this was never meant to be my life. Falling into the Russians’ hands was never something I planned; it just happened.
“It’s not that I have an issue with it,” Varo continues. “I just… I don’t know.” He looks defeated, his openness sparking something I’ve never seen from him before. I’m not looking at a ruthless criminal anymore. I’m gaping at a man who looks like he’s felt the worst kind of betrayal. In a way, he probably has, because I know how this world works. Family is everything.
That sentiment hits me harder than I expect, my mind going to my own family; the one I left behind. For a second, I’m swallowed by the guilt, suffocated by Varo’s honesty. He’s divulged something that I know he’d never dream of telling the likes of anyone else I’m affiliated with. A part of me feels honored by that, but the other part, the more vulnerable part, wonders if I could ever open up to him in the same way.
Vee’s phone vibrates on the side and he swipes it up, unlocking the screen to answer it. I finish off my cigarette, suddenly not wanting to know anymore about him. I stub my smoke out in the ashtray in Varo’s lap before pushing off the bed and heading to the bathroom.
I click the door shut, leaning against it. My heart is racing, blood pounding so loudly in my ears that I’ve forgotten how to breathe. Sweat beads across my forehead, the suppressed fear of revealing myself becoming prominent. Reaching for the tap, I turn on the faucet and splash my face with cold water. It does nothing to relieve the pressure weighing on my chest, but it wakes me up enough to realize I have two choices.
I could go out there and tell Varo the truth, or I could forget the lies I’ve told him, ignore the whole burden that throbs away in my skull and just enjoy what’s happening in the here and now.
Could I do that, though? I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with Vee, but the connection between us isn’t something I want to lose right now. That’s the ultimate dilemma. I have no idea how he would react if I told even one truth about myself.
Yebat.
I reach for the door handle, taking a deep breath as I pull it open. I’m geared up, though I don’t know what for. But when I lock eyes with Varo, I’m frozen on the spot.
He’s sitting on the end of the bed, staring at me with a fresh look of betrayal painted across his sharp features. His elbows rest on his knees, hands cupping his phone while he chews on his lip.
“Everything okay?” I ask, though I sense that’s the wrong thing to say as he stands up and stalks towards me.
He doesn’t answer right away, and when he closes the distance between us, his face is unreadable. Whatever happened in the two minutes I’ve been gone can’t have been good, and I feel like I’m the target right now.
“It was Roman,” he finally answers. “Just updating me on something.”
“Sounds ominous,” I remark, trying to lighten the mood.
He grunts in response, his eyes softening briefly as he searches my face. He looks like he wants to say something—which he never usually hesitates to do—but whatever it is, he must change his mind, instead cupping my face, bringing his lips to mine.
It’s the subtlest kiss, so gentle in comparison to every other moment we’ve had together. I feel it through my body like a current, warmth spreading through my veins. But all too soon, he pulls away, exhaling and closing his eyes like it pained him to hold that level of restraint.
“Fuck, Milo. What are we doing?” His question sounds more rhetorical than actually directed towards me, and I can’t deny that I’ve been asking myself the same question. Unfortunately, I have no verbal answer; any could be incorrect. The only answer I can give him is with my body.
I capture his mouth with mine, sliding my hand through his hair to hold him steady. Heat surges between us, my body humming a familiar tune whenever I’m with him. I walk him backwards until his legs hit the bed and he’s sinking into the mattress, my body crawling over his. His response solidifies that this is the answer he wanted, confirmation that it doesn’t really matter what we call this because we both want it just as bad. I just hope that’s enough for him.