Chapter Ten Enzo #2
As I reached for my pocket to grab my keys, a hand clamped over my shoulder. I pivoted, coming face-to-face with my own personal tomcat. My eyes widened.
“Tom? What the—”
I didn’t get to finish that sentence. He gave me a rough shove, and I stumbled between the cypresses.
Before I knew what was happening, I was lying flush on my back over the manicured lawn, hidden from view, Tom on top of me, wearing his crisp dress shirt rolled at the sleeves and shoulder holster.
His hair was slicked back, and he looked like Clark Kent’s hotter evil twin.
His eyes fucking undid me. Those deep ultramarines threatened to drown me in the misery he carried with him everywhere.
I wasn’t sure if Agent Asshole was aware that this section of the property was the only perimeter not wired to the eyeballs with cameras, but I was relieved no one would be able to see us here.
He ripped his glasses off, bunched my shirt in his fist, and yanked me forward so our foreheads were flush. He examined me with his signature annoyance, panting as war raged inside him.
“You blocked me?”
I shrugged with a smirk, a thrill racing up my spine. I liked our little cat and mouse game. How we always switched up roles. How we could both hold our own.
He rolled the tip of his tongue along his straight white teeth.
“What am I going to do with you, Enzo?” he asked, deadly quiet.
“Fuck me?” I flashed him a crooked grin.
He groaned, crashing his lips against mine so hard that the pain reverberated along my skull.
A spark of lust ignited in the base of my spine, spreading like wildfire across my body. My dick twitched and swelled against his. He was already hard and grinding his massive cock against my thigh.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
The first touch of our tongues made all my senses explode.
He tasted so good I wanted to weep. A mixture of cinnamon and toothpaste and male.
That was what turned me on the most, I think.
He was so unmistakably male. Possessive, aggressive, feral, in-my-face masculine.
Unapologetically violent. His firm lips were dry and right, so right.
And they captured mine with unhinged madness that confirmed my suspicion—that behind those tall, thick ice walls, his fire was too hot to contain.
He thrust his tongue deeper into my mouth, brushing the walls, exploring my teeth, tickling the back of my throat, owning every single inch of me.
Ensnared, I rocked my hips against him shamelessly, but he pinned me so fucking tightly against the lawn I could hardly move.
He was making some kind of point, and I sincerely wished he’d decide to spank me to get it across.
Somewhere in the back of my head I knew how dangerous this was. I kept telling myself Tom wouldn’t tell, but my risk was far greater than his. If people found out, he might get fired. But me? I’d get killed.
“You fucking nuisance.” He speared his fingers through my hair, tugging me closer, deepening our kiss, even though there was no more distance to bridge between us.
He melted into me and I accepted him, moaning into his mouth, waiting for a chance for him to unlock me so I could use my hands to touch him everywhere.
“The audacity you have to block me…” He continued ranting while savagely eating my entire face.
It seemed like my lips were no longer enough, because his mouth ravaged everything in its path, moving south, nipping my chin—hard, fuck!
—before he licked it better and slid down my throat.
I tilted my head back, giving him better access to do whatever the shit he wanted.
His lips latched against the side of my neck, his tongue lapping so fervently I was afraid he was gonna suck my fucking soul right along with the first layer of my skin.
His teeth sank into the sensitive flesh, marking, punishing, tasting, claiming.
I knew it was a giant mistake, just as I knew I was going to continue making it as long as he’d let me.
It felt like he was claiming me. And no one ever had before.
In my entire sexual history, girls took one look at my muscular, six-four ass and decided I was the dominant one and they were to be devoured.
Now, Tom did the devouring, and he wasn’t taking just my body.
He was swallowing my entire existence in his vortex of passion and hate.
I thrashed beneath him, making lewd noises I never knew I was capable of, desperate to free my arms from his grip so I could cop a feel.
I needed to touch that rolled-up magazine he called a cock.
To push my hand into his pants and see if he was leaking like I was.
“Ffuuuckk, Tom, I want you to fuck me,” I grumbled, unsure if I was speaking in Italian or English.
“Who the fuck told you that you can speak to me?”
He pulled back slightly, but before I could use my arms, he flipped me so I was flat on my stomach and mounted me from behind.
I couldn’t reconcile this fervent man with the same nerdy-ass FBI agent who couldn’t muster a smile to save his life.
Then again, I also couldn’t see that nerdy dude killing someone like Cash and taking the risk, so maybe the Tom Rothwell the world knew was nothing but a shell of the man lurking beneath the surface.
His erection pressed against the slit of my ass through our clothes, and my eyes rolled inside their sockets. This was too much and not enough at the same time.
His moves were crazy hot. He knew how to touch a man, how to fuck, how to make me crave more, and I wanted to learn everything from him.
He was also the only motherfucker alive who could manhandle me, maybe other than Jeremie. The Russian was the size of a tank, but straighter than a ruler.
“Tom, I—”
“I said no talking.”
He cupped my nape, planting me headfirst into the grass. I didn’t know what to make of it, and I had a feeling the more I spoke, the more pissed he’d get, so I just panted quietly, caught between panic, paranoia, and uncontainable lust.
“If we’re gonna do this…” Tom’s lips found the edge of my ear from behind as he ground his cock against the slit of my ass deeper and harder now, making my body quiver with lust and anticipation. “We’re gonna play by my rules. You understand?”
I’d opened my mouth to say something when I realized he was holding me by the hair, and that I wasn’t just leaking precum—I was dripping it. I was about to full-blown come in my pants.
“Do. You. Understand?” Tom seethed behind me, enunciating each word.
Fuck, I couldn’t remember what he asked. I couldn’t even remember where I was.
Rules. It was something about rules.
“What are your rules?” I tried to keep my tone playful. Now that I knew this motherfucker was at least as unhinged as my brothers—if not more—I needed to make sure there were no weird-ass rituals or baby sacrifice involved.
“We only meet when my schedule permits, and we keep it very, very discreet.”
Yeah, like I was gonna call the press with the hot tip that I let an FBI agent fuck me. We were definitely on the same page when it came to confidentiality.
“I–I can do that.” I licked my lips. “Anything we do will be sub rosa.”
“Get on all fours.”
I did, way too fast. I didn’t know if he was going to fuck me right there, on the edge of a golf course, lube-less, but I didn’t even care. Having that dick in my ass was a matter of national urgency.
Tom got on his knees from behind, unbuckling me as he spoke. “You unblock me, and you never block or play games with me again.”
Wait, what? This motherfucker blocked me after eating my face like it was his favorite meal. I didn’t like hypocritical assholes.
“Hey! What about when you—”
My pants and briefs fell down to my knees, and he grabbed my cock by the root, squeezing it to a point I saw stars. My face planted into the fucking grass, my arms collapsing limply. My ass was still in the air—bare—and his hand was on my dick, choking it to death, but not moving.
He gave my cock another tantalizing squeeze—like he knew just the right pressure to apply—and I felt the clear liquid of my cum sliding down my shaft, snaking between his fingers. “To be clear, I’m not negotiating with you, Enzo. I’m laying down the rules.”
“Fine,” I whimpered, sounding like a complete wimp. “Just…”
“Just what?” he prodded.
“You know,” I whispered. I still couldn’t say it.
Make me come. Jerk me off. Prove to me just how fucking gay I am.
I knew the self-loathing would arrive as soon as we were done.
Just as well as I knew the self-loathing had no business being there in the first place, because what we were doing wasn’t wrong.
Two consenting adults, drawing pleasure from one another.
And still, I didn’t care. This felt better than anything I’d ever done with all the women I’d been with, combined.
“You can come, if you agree to all the other terms. Spit.” His hand left my dick and appeared beneath my face. I spat. He spat into it, too. Then his hand was back on my cock. He gave it a leisurely stroke.
Aaaaaahh.
I pushed my ass up in his direction. Who knew? Maybe he’d take the invitation and decide to fuck me after all.
Shit. He was still speaking.
Pay attention, Enzo. The best fuck of your life depends on it.
“…you don’t tell anyone about us, even under torture.”
“Jesus, man,” I strangled out, on the verge of humping his hand like a crazed dog. “Fucking a fed wouldn’t be the height of my career, you know? Of course this is a secret.”