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My dick is hard enough to pound nails, but it dies down a little as I follow him down the hall. His bedroom is huge. Like, five times the size of my whole place. The four-poster bed is covered in luxurious silk sheets, royal purple and gold. Lush velvet curtains frame the windows, and the view over the gardens shows the pool and the golf course greens.
It’s a bedroom fit for a Castellani prince, that’s for sure. There’s a sweet, musky scent in the air, and I recognize it: Julian. Julian, distilled.
And it makes my cock spring back up like a fucking cartoon.
Julian waltzes over to the bed and pulls back the covers with a pirouette before reaching out a hand to me.
“Come,” he purrs, eyes bright with lust. I’ve seen him look this way so many times in Romeo’s Room, but it’s not…
It’s not what I want from him right now.
I cross the room, take his face in my hands, and kiss him. Hard, slow, deep. I’m not gentle—I’m desperate. I want him to feel what I feel. I want to go deeper with him than we’ve gone before.
ThanI’vegone before.
He makes a quiet noise of surprise against my lips, but responds with equal enthusiasm, his hands all over me, his body pressed against mine. His skin is so hot it almost burns, but I only pull him closer. I bite my way down his neck as he cards his fingers through my hair, careful to stay away from the impressive and still-sensitive lump on my head, and I think about the way things could have been, if life was fair instead of fucked.
If he wasn’t a Castellani.
IfIwasn’t a Bernardi.
If he wasn’t a murderous psycho and I wasn’t a Mob Enforcer.
If we were just two dumb guys living paycheck to paycheck but rich in other ways...
“Leo,” Julian gasps as my hands squeeze his ass. “You need to take it slow.”
I pull my mouth off his shoulder, and look into his eyes. They’re full of confusion and surprise, but also something else: caution. “Slow?”
“Your head,” he says, brushing my hair back from my temple. “You’re not supposed to be undertaking any vigorous activities for—“
“If you think I’m gonna go back to my room and take a nap like a fucking toddler, Castellani, you are sorely mistaken.”
He grins. “All I’m saying is, lie down.”
He hustles me onto the bed, face up, my dick rolling around on my belly in silent protest at the lack of contact. “There we go,” he coos, straddling me and giving my dick a teasing stroke. “This is how I like you, Leo.”
“Compliant?” I growl, but he just smirks, leans over and kisses me again, his lips softer, seeking. I give in, relieved to be out of my head and back in my body, feeling the press of his hips, the heavy weight of his cock lying alongside mine.
He gathers my cock in his hand, wet with lube, and coats me. “Yes,” he murmurs.
“Hm?”
“Compliant, Leo. I like it when you lie there and take it. And I want you to take it bare. Can you do that for me?”
No rubbers? Fuck, yes, I can do that. I nod and suck in a breath as he rises up a little, positions my crown up against his hole. He’s already slick and relaxed, which means he must have been playing with himself, getting ready while I showered.
“Oh,” he breathes. “I like the way your eyes go glassy when I do this.”
“That’s the concussion,” I spit out, unwilling to let him have it all his own way.
He laughs a little and rocks against me, my cock still nudging at his ring. I could lift up my hips, get the tip in there, yank him down...
But I like being teased as much as he likes teasing me.
“Tell me how it feels, Leo. Tell me what it feels like to fuck me.”
I’m in no condition to do this, not really, but the warmth of his wet asshole against my dick has short-circuited any rational thinking. “It feels good,” I manage.
