Chapter One Enzo #2
I wasn’t stupid enough to exchange face pics with Cash on Queerdr, but I’d told him what I was going to wear and vice versa. I spotted him easily, in black skinny jeans and a sleeveless The Smiths tank top that highlighted his lean but sculpted arms.
Okay. I can work with that.
He looked cute, a little on the short side, with a blond buzz cut and a youthful face. When I stopped in front of him, his mouth broke into a huge grin, and he threw his arms around my shoulders.
“Italian stud?” he greeted me over the music shrilly, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “I got you a drink.”
I thought I felt my cock stir in my pants when he pushed a blue concoction across the sticky bar my way, and my pulse immediately quickened.
Finally. Some movement downstairs.
“Thanks. I’m more of a beer guy.” I motioned to the bartender, pointing at a Peroni on display. “Get you something?”
Cash shook his head, looking a little bummed I’d refused his drink. I chalked it up to his wanting to loosen me up. He knew it was my first time. Anyway, why would he roofie me? I’d already made it clear I wanted my cock in his mouth.
No stools were available, so we stayed standing while the bartender tossed a Peroni into my hands. I caught the bottle, popping it open with my teeth. Cash’s mouth fastened around the straw of his drink. He gave it a suggestive suck. “I wonder what else you can do with that mouth of yours.”
I normally had a good comeback ready for any occasion, but I found myself a little out of sorts. I still wasn’t exactly turned on, but I was eager to get the show on the road. Every moment standing here made me feel exposed.
I drained my beer and wiped my mouth. “Let’s get out of here, and I’ll show you something more impressive than my mouth.”
“Yeah?” Cash’s eyes zinged with excitement. “Where?”
“Mine.”
His smile fell, along with his bony shoulders. “No offense, dude, but gay bashing is a thing, and you look like the kind of guy who can kill me by blowing in my direction.”
His assessment didn’t even sound like an exaggeration. I couldn’t fault him for being safe. There was a reason why my brothers tasked me with the job of threatening and beating people up for a living. But I also couldn’t risk taking him to any of my family’s clubs and properties.
“How ’bout the alleyway?” He jerked his thumb in the exit’s direction. “It’s pretty private.”
“That works.” Kinda. I made a mental note to scope the place for cameras and people beforehand. If anyone found out, I’d be toast. “You sure you wanna do this?”
I’d been very specific in what I was looking for on the app. I wanted to get my dick sucked, period. No kissing. No penetration. No cuddling. Cash knew the score.
“One hundred percent. Been dying for this dick ever since I saw a picture of it.” He downed his drink in one go and grabbed my hand. I waited for a jolt of desire to strike me at the touch of his soft, sweaty hand, but no luck.
Calm down; that means jack shit. People didn’t get hard from holding hands. This wasn’t sixth grade.
Halfway out the door, Cash stumbled on his feet and crashed into me, grabbing my midriff and letting loose a careless giggle. I smiled down at him, wondering how shitfaced he really was. As much as I wanted to try this, I didn’t want to use some innocent dude who couldn’t see straight.
“Oops.” He giggled, “Silence” by Marshmello and Khalid booming in our ears drowning out his voice. Finally, we were in the alleyway, which was surprisingly secluded. I looked around for cameras. Found none.
He fisted my hoodie, stumbling into me. I righted him up. “Sure you’re up for it? Totally okay if you’ve had too much to drink. I can drive you home.”
Of course you can, my father mocked inside my head. You spineless little shit. Always the nice guy.
“I’m not even tipsy.” Cash’s sunny grin did nothing to brighten my mood. “Just excited it’s finally happening.”
“If you’re sure.” I pressed my back against the brick wall, wondering why the fuck my lungs were burning if my breathing was perfectly fine.
He dropped to his knees and pushed my Versace briefs down. My cock popped out like a jack-in-the-box. Deflated, but still impressively large.
“Holy shit.” Cash licked his lips, grabbing me by the root. “That’s some package you’ve got there. Looks even bigger up close.”
I grunted, waiting for anticipation to finally prevail over my anxiety. His hand on my dick felt strange. Unwelcome.
Cash started pumping my cock, trying to bring it to life, his touch rough and dry. When a few seconds passed and nothing happened, he added a tongue swirl across my crown. All I could do was stand there and watch in helpless frustration.
A guy was sucking my cock.
A cute guy was sucking my cock.
And I didn’t even have a semi.
What the fuck, dick?
So much for sexual awakening.
I was going to be so damn furious if it turned out I was just a straight man with a shitty-ass libido.
Although, not to make excuses, but Cash didn’t seem to be too good at giving head. Maybe it was his first time, too?
With a growl of irritation, Cash went to full-on sucking my limp dick. Another minute passed before he reared his head back, his harsh glare making my cheeks tingle with shame.
“Everything okay?” he asked through puffy lips.
I shook my head, dumbfounded by the anticlimactic situation. “Yeah, uh…sorry. I’m just a little nervous.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
I flinched at his words, though I kind of deserved them. He didn’t sign up for an hour-long blowie just so I could figure my shit out. “Sorry, man.”
“Just show me how you like it.” He pushed back on his knees.
I clasped his hand in mine and spat on his palm, then moved it across my dick with the same rhythm and pressure I usually used when I jerked off. It did the trick, and after a few strokes, my cock stiffened.
It reached full erection in about thirty seconds, and finally, Cash wrapped his lips around it and went to town.
I ran a hand over the soft buzz cut of his head, ignoring the hollow feeling growing inside me. It wasn’t what I was looking for, but I felt bad tapping out now.
A dull thrum of satisfaction ran down my spine, but it was still missing that…something.
Glancing down, I watched as Cash fumbled in one of the front pockets of his jeans. I hoped he was jacking himself off, so at least he’d get some fun out of the experience. But after a moment, he took out his phone, slid his thumb across the screen, and angled the camera toward my dick.
Flash.
I frowned.
I know I said my dick always liked meeting new fans, but taking a picture with them wasn’t a part of the deal. Moreover, he didn’t ask for permission. It was definitely the kind of shit that needed to be greenlit.
“Uh…” I cleared my throat, not knowing the etiquette for admonishing a dude who had my dick in his mouth. “I’m actually not—”
He angled his phone up, now getting a frame with both my cock in his mouth and my face.
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
He tucked the phone back into his pocket.
Oh, hell no.
“Bro, what the fuck?” I grabbed his shoulders, about to push him away, when the familiar, cold mouth of a gun was pressed against my thigh. Guess the bastard had it tucked under his jeans.
Great fucking job, asshole, I praised myself. Hope it was worth it.
I was being coerced, blackmailed, abused, and I had no way to stop this.
And now I knew why Cash sucked at sucking cock—he wasn’t here to seduce me, and probably not gay, either. This was a trap, and I fell right into it.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Cash released my dick from his mouth, staring up at me with a deranged glint I recognized as bloodthirst. Monsters had a way of recognizing one another in the dark.
“I’m aiming at your femoral artery. If I blow it up, you’ll bleed out in three minutes flat.
” He tsked. “I’d still get paid, but they want you alive. ”
Who the fuck were they? I had too many enemies to choose from.
I reached for the switchblade in my hoodie, only to find the pocket empty. I stared at him, feeling the blood draining from my entire goddamn body.
Cash’s rancid laugh reverberated in my chest as he dug his gun deeper against my muscular thigh. “Got rid of it when I stumbled into you earlier. Clumsy me.”
Was he Bratva? Outfit? A rival Camorra gang from Naples?
Didn’t matter. I was in deep fucking shit. My blood stirred. I was going to disappoint my family, bring shame on the Camorra, and annihilate my reputation. If I made it out of this alive.
“Who sent you?” I growled. Not that it changed anything. He and I both knew I’d give him whatever the hell he wanted. Panic flooded me. I could hardly fucking breathe.
“I’m asking the questions here. Do your brothers know you’re here?”
I flashed him a cool, unruffled glare. What the fuck did he think?
“Do they know you’re gay?”
I didn’t answer.
“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” He grinned cruelly. “Now, I’ll blow your fucking brains out if you don’t go to your new don, Luca Ferrante, and tell him—”
He never got to finish the sentence. A large pair of hands grabbed his neck from the depths of darkness and, in one quick motion, snapped his spine like a wishbone. Cash fell to the ground, his neck bent at an unnatural angle that confirmed he’d died at the hands of a world-class assassin.
I looked up, the tightness in my chest hardening into something even worse.
Fuck, who did this?
My hero and savior stepped from the shadows, staring down at me with those caustic, eerily blue eyes that always made my stomach twist with something sinister.
“Hello, Enzo.”
Not this son of a bitch again. What was he doing here?