The heat of him against the bare skin of my cock is already the best thing I can ever remember feeling, and I’m not even inside him yet. He’s taller than me, more muscular, and maybe even more dangerous, but here he is, bent over his couch, whimpering and making me feel like maybe I’m not dead after all.
“It’s fucking insane, but I’m obsessed with you.” He gasps, and I thrust inside of him, filling him in one rough stroke. “I knew that drink was from you, and I was about to pull my gun out and shove it in that bartender’s mouth if he wouldn’t tell me where you went or what your name was.”
He clenches around me and my eyes roll back. I wrap myself around him, finding a wild frantic rhythm with my snapping hips, grazing my teeth over the soft flesh on the back of his neck and his shoulders.
“Spettro,” he pants. “I’ll fucking find you if you disappear again. I don’t care who I have to threaten or kill to do it.”
I moan against his skin and catch a droplet of his sweat on my tongue, fucking him deep over and over again. The sound of our slapping skin echoes off the high ceiling of his living room, along with our unrestrained grunts and groans.
For the first time I can remember, I don’t need to put a hand on my chest to feel my heart beating or to know I’m really alive. I can feel it in every pulsing cell in my body, in the dizzying perfection of Alessio’s hole squeezing around my cock, in every breath I drag in that tastes like his sweat and the lingering flavor of his toothpaste on my lips.
I reach forward to wrap my hand around his cock, and for just a second, I wish I could feel all of his bare skin against mine. I’ve already pushed enough of my own boundaries tonight though, and I don’t think I can take another.
He wails and his cock spasms in my grasp, his muscles tensing.
“I’m going to cum, Sir. Breed me. Please. I need to feel your hot cum flooding my guts.”
I squeeze the base of his cock to hold him off and fuck him harder, faster, so deep he’ll choke on my cum when I give it to him. And then, with my face buried in the crook of his neck, I give him what he wants.
“Take my cum, slut.” I groan, grinding inside his hole as my balls clench and my cock starts to pulse, pumping out the hot, sticky ropes he’s begging for. I stroke his cock with a firm, steady grip, milking the cum from him as he throws his head back and screams my name, the name he gave me, the only one I need.
“Spettro.”
The waves of pleasure go on and on, but even once they start to fade, I clench my ass and keep my hips pressed up against him, not ready to lose the feeling of being inside him right away. He sags against the arm of the couch, and I suck on the back of his neck, weakly thrusting inside him until my cock is too softand oversensitive. A gush of cum spills from his hole when I finally pull out. I sit back on my heels, spread his cheeks, and use my thumb to gather it and shove it back inside him. His hole flutters and he lets out a quiet whimper.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
Alessio lets out a breathless laugh. “No thanks needed, Spettro.”
I clear my throat and give his ass cheek one more squeeze. “Go get dressed.”
He glances over his shoulder with a questioning look, and I just jerk my head towards the hallway that leads to the bedroom. He doesn’t argue, but he does keep one eye on me until he disappears from view.
My hands shake as I stuff my spent cock away and zip up. My gloves are covered in cum and lube, so I pull them off and stuff them into my back pocket, then I stand up and slip into the kitchen.
On the counter, his laptop is open, but the screen is black, and there’s a folder next to it full of newspaper clippings about the Sleepless Reaper killings. I still don’t know if his interest in The Ghost is his own or if it has to do with the Morettis, and I’m obviously not going to find out tonight. Maybe I could try to get more out of him now that he’s loosened up and satisfied, but I can’t stay here another minute, not right now. Everything inside of me feels too raw, like an exposed nerve.
I spot what I came in here looking for, a pen and a pad of paper next to the refrigerator. I grab them and jot down my number. It’s just a burner cell anyway. If I decide that getting any closer to Alessio is a bad idea, I’ll just get a new one sooner than I planned and he won’t have any way to reach me.
I hesitate for just a second. I feel like I should write something more than just my phone number, but I can’t think ofwhat, so I leave it at that and hurry out of the apartment before he finishes getting dressed.
I skip the elevator and find the stairs instead, taking them two at a time until I reach the ground floor and practically sprint out into the night.
At least I won’t dream about the Reapers tonight. And something tells me that if I do wake up with an aching craving clawing at the pit of my belly, it won’t be meth that’s on my mind.
Chapter
Nine
GHOST
I didn’t dreamof Alessio last night, but that’s probably only because I didn’t sleep. I felt too raw; I still do. Like all my skin has been peeled away to expose my nerve endings. Everything seems louder, brighter, every sensation more intense, and it’s all his fault. I wish I could hate him for it, but he’s infected my mind the same way he claims I infected his.
Normally if I can’t sleep, I’ll find a Reaper to take it out on, and I did consider it. I even got dressed and tucked my pistol and silencer into place. But instead of following a familiar path towards the clubhouse or any of their other favorite middle-of-the-night haunts, I found myself outside of Alessio’s building again, climbing the fire escape. His apartment was dark and he’d obviously gone to bed, but I stayed anyway, just sitting there, thinking about the look in his eyes when he first met my gaze through the mirror at Wonderland and the feeling of his mouth against mine. I stayed until the sky started to get light, then I climbed down and waited in the alley for an hour or two until I saw him exit the building, wearing a suit and scowling.
I honestly thought it would be difficult to stalk a mafioso, that he’d be on alert for the feeling of being watched and followed. Maybe he needs to work on tuning in to those primal instincts, or maybe he was just too distracted today to notice me a few yards behind him everywhere he went.
I don’t know what the point of it is, why I’m creeping through the shadows in the parking lot of a strip club instead of just responding to any of the dozen texts he sent me today, or better yet, going home and trying to sleep. But I can’t shake this craving to have my eyes on him, so here I am. I slink around the corner of the building and wait, listening as he greets the bouncer. I guess Alessio must be a regular here? I didn’t peg him for the type to haunt a strip club, but it’s not like I know a damn thing about him other than what he does for a living and the noises he makes when he comes.