Page 86 of The One-Night Heist

I trust you.

Of course, I couldn’t say that terrible truth out loud, but with the way he grinned, with how passionately he kissed me, moaning into my mouth this time while filling my ass with cum, it was safe to say he knew.

It had better be our little secret.

“Fuck, Luxford,” I panted, unable to move a muscle as he released my wrists and pulled out, then slid down my body to clean me up with that wicked tongue of his. “Maybe you should just top from now on.”

“I doubt you’d allow that,” Giano chuckled, knowing me far too well. “Plus, I⁠—”

He stopped talking so abruptly, I propped myself into my elbows to frown down at him. “What?”

To my horny delight, he was blushing. “Well… I would like the opportunity to experience truly bottoming eventually. For you.”

This fucking man.

“Goddamn right it will be for me,” I snapped as I flopped back onto the mattress and let him continue licking my cum-covered stomach. “Unfortunately, it will have to wait, since you’ve now siphoned my fucking soul from my body with your Magic Moneybags dick.”

Do it again.

He chuckled again. “I take it you enjoyed yourself, despite being denied ‘harder and faster?’”

“It got the job done,” I sassed, even though we both knew damn well what had just happened between us. “But now I’m starving, since you ruined our dinner plans earlier by being mad.”

Giano huffed and stretched out beside me, arching an assessing eyebrow. “Yes, I was mad… but then you showed me just how sorry you were, didn’t you, baby?”

He really has my number.

When all I did was grumble in reply, he laughed and sat up, reaching for the hotel phone. “I’ll order us room service, since I assume you lack the willpower to leave the hotel room.”

Really, truly.

Proving his point, I remained where I was, sprawled out with limbs made of jelly while he rattled off an endless order in what I assumed was perfect Italian.

Pretty sure I heard carbonara and a bottle of thousand-dollar wine, so we’re golden…

“I should probably shower,” I announced, even as I continued to lay there boneless. “If you could return my soul to me, I might be able to get myself to the bathroom.”

“No,” Giano cackled, scooping me up and throwing me over his shoulder, apparently uncaring that cum was dripping out of me as he marched us into the en suite. “As I said, every inch of you is mine now.”

Yes, sir.

I didn’t protest—didn’t have the willpower to—as he got the shower going and dragged me in there with him. And if I let him wash me, and told him he could pick the first movie for our impending room service movie marathon, so what?

Mr. Quincy deserves the night off.

Twenty-Eight

Giancarlo

I awoke to the sound of the hotel phone loudly ringing next to my head.

Did I order a wake up call…?

Thanks to a late night spent watching movies with Rowen while enjoying rich food and far too much wine, my brain was operating slower than usual. After groggily sitting up, I also registered one of our cell phones incessantly vibrating from the other room and realized there might actually be an emergency.

“H-hello?” I rasped into the hotel phone, reaching for a nearby robe since my clothes were nowhere to be found.

“I am sorry to bother you at this hour, Mr. Luxford,” the clerk stammered in my ear. “But there is a Signor Franzini and a Signor…” Multiple voices on the other end grew muffled before the clerk returned. “A Signor Mick here to see you. They say it is an urgent matter. Shall I send them up?”