He holds me in place as he comes, spilling all over my tongue. I drink down every drop, careful not to let any of it leak out of the corners of my mouth, and only when he shoves me away do I get to take a breath.
I sit back on my heels, looking up at him, searching his expression for any signs of forgiveness.
Adam keeps his eyes closed and breathes slowly. After a few moments, he sits up, not bothering to tuck his cock away. “I’ve got an early morning.” He looks down at my crotch. “You can take care of yourself, right?”
I’m barely hard, to the point where it’s not even worth it for a sad, lonely session of jerking off by myself. I nod anyway and force a smile. “Yes,” I tell him. “I’ll be in bed in a few minutes.”
I want to go out to the car and get my cello, to make sure the instrument hasn't been damaged by his careless handling, but he’ll get angry if I do. Instead, I go to the bathroom and sit down on the toilet seat.
My cock is already soft again, but if he thinks I didn’t get off on sucking his cock, he’ll get angry.
I can’t win tonight, and I don’t want to tempt fate again.
Ican’t.
I count to sixty, five times, then I head back out into the bedroom to get ready for bed. He snaps at me to turn the light off, and I do, quietly sliding into bed with him.
I’m not tired.
I can’t sleep.
All I can think about is Ilya Zima, and his lips, and the light brush of his beard against my chin.
FOUR
ILYA
Three days later, I haven’t forgotten Micah.
His beautiful eyes, the sad way he played the cello. The way simply kissing him comforted me and aroused me, despite how little I’ve cared for kissing in the past.
But his “partner” is a cop.
Oh, he’d tried to deny it, but after Silvano Cresci pointed it out, it had been obvious. The stance, the boots, the way he spoke.
What is a police officer but a thug hired by the government? State-sanctioned brutality. I’m familiar with it from Russia, and I learned quickly that despite how America pretends to be better than the rest of the world, in the end, people are the same.
I want to track Micah down and pull him away from this police officer, but Silvano Cresci made it clear that I can’t risk it.
Which is why I’m now meeting with Silvano and his underboss Cristiano Fiore.
I’m still not sure about the power dynamics here. When I’d first approached the Crescis for a potential alliance, I’d dealt with Cristiano Fiore. He’s closer to my age, and I like his clear way of communicating. He’s straightforward.
Then around the time Silvano Cresci’s father was murdered, something changed. Silvano took over communications andbecame much more insistent I deal with him—the new head of the family—directly.
More politics.
Silvano Cresci enters my office, and his eyes immediately fall on the aquarium on the far wall. He’s always fascinated by the fish—or he pretends to be because he knows how much pride I take in my aquariums.
Cristiano Fiore is less keen on the fish. When he gestures, the two guards they brought with them take their designated spots along the wall.
We’re colleagues, but we don’t quite trust each other.
Trust isn’t easy to come by in this world.
“Did you get new fish?” Silvano asks, stepping closer to the aquarium. “I don’t remember these colorful ones.”
He’s only been at this particular location two times. How would he even remember which fish I had here?
