Page 24 of Complications

“Shit, sorry,” I murmured.

“For what? Do it again.”

“If I pull your hair out⁠—”

“Then I’ll be a happy bald man. Do it again.”

So I did. My fingers flexed, and the sound he made went straight through me. Even slick with sweat, our hips kept grinding, chasing friction. Every corner of my mind was consumed with the need to be fucked by him.

Michel’s hand slid between us, tugging firmly on my cock while his other slipped under my head. I was completely surrounded by him, sheltered, and the realization hit hard. I shoved it aside. There were more immediate things to focus on. Like the way his fingers pressed along that sensitive line underneath, dragging pleasure out of me until I was dizzy with it.

“Oh, fuck, I can’t wait.”

“I know, babe. Soon. I promise.”

In complete contrast to everything else, he pressed soft, gentle kisses to my lips until that alone had me losing my mind. Between the firm grip of his hand and the sweetness of those kisses, I forgot my name. Forgot what I’d even been worried about an hour ago.

I just wanted him. And me. Together.

By the time I felt his finger press against my hole, I was close to begging. It didn’t take long before he slid one inside me, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more.

“Just fuck me,” I pleaded. “Please.”

Michel pressed one last firm kiss to my lips before letting go of my cock and reaching into the bedside table. He came back with lube and a condom, and my brain immediately filled with questions I didn’t want answers to.

Didn’t matter. He wasn’t playing around anymore. Thank God.

He flicked the bottle open like he meant it, slicked up his fingers, then his cock. I watched, jealous of his hand, until I started getting antsy. Then his attention was back on me. One finger slid inside, then another. The muscle resisted at first, but he kept steady pressure until it gave. By the time he added a third, I was pushing back against him, fucking his hand. When he curled his fingers, I saw stars.

“Just fuck me. I want you to break me,” I begged.

“Babe, I’m not going to break you. But I will make you feel so goddamn good.”

With that promise, Michel lifted my leg over his shoulder and lined himself up. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside me. It felt like being split open, like I might come apart entirely, and I was so fucking here for it.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good. So good.” I dragged in a breath, gave myself a second to adjust. “Fuck me.”

He didn’t hesitate. His mouth crashed into mine as he started moving, hard and relentless. His tongue swept through my mouth while his hips snapped forward, driving me into the mattress. It wasn’t pretty or soft. It was feral. Exactly what I wanted.

Every thrust dragged us closer to the edge. Words dissolved into a mess of groans, gasps, broken cries. We crashed over together, the release hitting like an explosion.

The float back down was almost painful in how good it felt.

Michel’s breath was ragged against my neck where he’d buried his face, and it kept me grounded. If we could stay like this…right here, no one interrupting…it would be perfect.

The fact that we couldn’t pissed me off.

CHAPTER FIVE

Michel

“I need a goddamn explanation and make it fucking quick,” Matteo bit out between clenched teeth.

The air went still, heavy, as we all kept our focus on the task. The man in front of me moaned low in the back of his throat as I worked to remove the bullet from his shoulder. He was damn lucky—it had gone through the top of his shoulder. If it had been an inch in either direction, it would’ve been a very different situation. To the left was a useless arm, to the right was a burial plot.

“Boss, I’m not sure what’s going on,” Frankie said grudgingly.