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My bike guns down the highway, the wind whipping my face. I grip the handles harder and go faster, craving the danger, the adrenaline. I’m willing to go straight to hell if it puts a damper on my vicious erection.
But it’s still there, demanding one thing and one thing alone—to bury itself inside Eva Brannan’s overflowing pussy, to replace the fingers dipping into her.
I snarl and go at full speed, the woods flashing past me in the night, the line marking the asphalt rushing toward my wheels like it’s about to swallow them. This could be my last ride, but what’s one more death trap for a man who risks his life for a fucking living? At the next curve, I slant down and almost level with the road, my knee an inch from the rushing asphalt. I only get to straighten the bike for a second before I slant to the other side, an inch from raking the road at every curve.
This highway rounds the forest separating the campus from the exclusive area where our mansion is located. I’d love to run into some of the wild human animals roaming those woods now, namely the Morningstars’ scouts—the strongest rivaling arms-dealing cartel—but finding them isn’t a sure thing, and I need a sure outlet now.
Which leaves me with no avenue other than breakneck speed to drown the demented urge that refuses to loosen its grip on me.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to come so hard for Eva Brannan. The hardest I ever came in my life, and it wasn’t even during some sick gang bang. I had to fight myself not to go down to my knees, bury my face in her soaking wet pussy and film myself while at it, too. Then the impulse that crashed into me to press my lips to hers, to override her tongue with mine, it fucking blew my mind. All I wanted was to violate her mouth, to split her secrets open and have them bleed into mine.
I wanted to claim her right down to a visceral level.
This is so fucking wrong.
I’m a fucked up bastard, my whole personality is littered with all sorts of definitions for the word “nasty”, but I was never confused about any of them. I always knew what to expect of myself, and I’ve always been brutally honest about it. Also, unlike the other bastards in my line of work, I don’t pretend to be anything but what I am. Not to my brother, not to my men, and sure as fuck not to the women who chase me for a good time, subjecting themselves willingly to my abusive kinks. But this unnamed yearning for Eva Brannan is a whole new ball game.
My erection is down to a semi by the time I kill the engine in the driveway of our sumptuous mansion. Romano hates it when I leave my bike among his pristine cars like a black stain on his white shirt, which is why I usually do it with glee. A reminder for Romano that I’m still alive, despite all of his attempts to get me killed.
I head into the kitchen and grab a bottle of water from the fridge, welcoming its cooling effect.
“So, you’ve stolen dear stepdaddy’s plaything.”
I turn to see Sade perched on a stool at the kitchen island with a bottle of water in front of him. In public we may act wild, but it’s all for show. We actually rarely ever drink alcohol. As paramilitary professionals, we have to stay fit, healthy, and sharp as high-precision guns, or we’d never make it in the underground mazes of a warzone.
But that doesn’t mean we don’t have bad habits.
I fish my pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of my jacket and shove one between my lips. One thing Romano hates as much as Sade and me still breathing is smoking in the house, which is why I never miss a chance to do it. Actually, I rarely ever smoke outside of an occasion to annoy him, or to keep my hands busy when the urge hits me to smash my fist into some bastard’s face at the wrong time. Or, as it turns out, to grab my cock at the mere mention of the philosophy professor.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed with the love of your life?” I reply nonchalantly as I light up. I didn’t see Sade there because the bastard is smooth as a jungle snake—we’ve had the same training after all—but it’s not like his presence surprises me.
“The love of my life asked me to have a word with you. She’s worried sick that you’ll hurt her best friend. That you might break her beyond repair.”
“What about you? You seemed to like her before I showed you those pics of them together.” I take a long drag from the cigarette, perching myself on a stool next to my brother.
Sade’s eyes rake down my frame—the only assessment he needs.
“The only thing I’m worried about is that you’ll fuck her to death. You sure want to.”
“It’s that obvious, huh?”
“Thankfully only to me. But if you don’t do something about it, I’m afraid it’ll get out of hand.”
I look to the side, leveling my eyes with his.
“When was the last time I let anything get out of hand?”
He pauses because he can’t remember. Because there’s nothing to remember. Control is my fucking middle name.
“It’ll take more than a juicy pussy to mess with my head.”
“Oh, but we don’t know that, do we? No pussy has messed with your head before, juicy or not. This is completely new territory.”
I take another drag from my cigarette, the tip searing the darkness.
Big bro isn’t wrong. There’s no point denying it. The way I want Eva Brannan is new, and it could give me trouble. But I can’t talk to him about it. Sade and I have alway been close, but talking isn’t our thing. We train together, we have each other’s backs on missions, we save each other’s lives, and we’ll probably die together. But we don’t talk.
“This is new territory,” I say. “You doing absolutely anything to fulfill a woman’s every desire.” He’s so besotted with Justine, he’s turned into a puppy for her, and a bloodhound because of her. He’d bring down the moon to please her, and kill a whole army to protect her.
