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“Ohhh.” His sweet moans fill the plane. He brushes a silicone finger over his wrinkled skin. My heart pounds in my ears and the air is thick around me. Zacharias could wake up at any second and come in here to find his son getting off in front of me. The adrenaline rush from the very idea is not only terrifying, it's thrilling.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
My best friend can't ever find us this way. All my loyalty in the past will never make up for this kind of betrayal. He'll only see it as breaking his trust and steering his son in the wrong direction. I've tried to do the right thing but there's only one way to land when it involves a man like Enrico—tied up and forced to want what I can't have.
He's a grown-up and free to make his own decisions but his father won't see it that way. He didn't when his daughter seduced the cook months before being found with her girlfriend. He put a bullet in the guy's head without giving him a chance to explain himself.
I saw the knife in Samantha's hand as she left the kitchen. The cook wasn't walking out of that house alive no matter what option he chose.
Everything Zacharias has done has been to give his kids a better life than he had, and he'd bleed me dry where I sit if he thought he'd be saving his son from me.
Enrico's feet rest on my open legs. It's his immediate instinct to lean on me no matter where we are or what we're doing.
Those four letters I thought I tossed out of my mind last night are back. They are stronger than ever, beating at the inner walls of my head. M— No. Not now. Not ever.
He rocks back and forth, thrusting his cock upward. His thighs shake and a long whimper slips from him the faster he chases his pleasure. My cock strains in my underwear, and seeing him come all over himself is almost enough to make me fall apart right along with him.
He twitches a few times before his back goes flat against the table. His arms dangle off the sides and sweat drips down his body, causing his skin to glisten. Even his hungry hole. He reached higher ground quicker with my fingers inside him and his body was begging for a repeat.
He sits up and his smile is blissful. He rubs his glazed over eyes and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip while closing his robe. “Now you can go all day learning to be patient for me too,Padrino.”
He collects his release between his fingers and reaches out to me, smearing his cum on the inside of my collar. “Let's see how still and relaxed you can be later while being able to smell me all day.”
He shoves his fingers in his mouth, humming around them as he jumps off the table. He grabs on to my chair to steady himself. Leaning down, he yanks the tape off my mouth. Wincing, I swallow back my scream.
Reaching for his pants draped over the other chair, he takes a knife out of his pocket and cuts the ropes holding me strapped to the chair before slicing down the center of the zip ties around my wrists. “I'll see you when we land.”
Slipping my hand between my legs, I adjust myself and watch as he disappears into the bathroom carrying his clothes. Standing up, I hide the rope in the overhead compartments and peek around the divider. My gaze falls on a sleeping Zacharias and I sigh in relief.
The plane lowers and shakes. I sit back down and laugh, resting my face in my hands. His risks only increase. If I'm the cause for him growing more self-destructive then I deserve his father's bullet in my head.
I lift my head as loud footsteps approach my way. “Enrico—”
He shakes me off, sitting in the chair across from me. “Relax, Fernando. You look like you're about to jump out of the nearest window. Not to worry. Everything is back to how you prefer it.”
Except it's not. It's hard to keep pretending after you've had a taste of the real thing.
I glance over at him and he's smiling toward the window; his face is in a state of peace I wish to see more of.
He shifts his eyes to look at me, lighting up my way.
Andmy body screams the word it's been holding back for so damn long—mine.
If only he truly could be.
Nine
Enrico
My father wakes up confused shortly after the plane lands and complains about his aching head. “What did you do to my drink?”
“Nada.” I stand up from my chair, waggling my brows at Fernando with my back turned to my father. Fernando's expression is blank but his eyes are pleading with me.
“Behave, pequeño,”they say.
“You're lying.” My father's voice grows louder than my thoughts, and he stomps my way. “The guilt is written all over your smug face.”
I grab my black bag from one of the seats and rush forward before he can hook his fingers fully around my arm, walking toward the open jet door.
