“No, she–” Basil shook his head and I saw my opportunity.
With one raised hand, I grabbed Basil’s wrist so he couldn’t cut my throat. With the other, I pushed him down and used my body weight to hold him. He headbutted me, but it only met my lower jaw and lip. It was a fight to get the knife out of his hand, the boy was fitter than I’d expected.
No, not a boy. A Bratva-trained man.
This night did not go like I planned. From the mind-blowing orgasm together to the attempted murder. But, I could feel Basil getting hard under me when I finally restrained him. A drop of blood dripped down from me to him, and I wasn’t sure if he’d nicked my throat or busted my lip. The dark red fluid landed on his cheek, rolling down his neck to the white collar of his shirt while he panted below me and I felt myself get hard as well.
“Told you I’d have you pinned down.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
BASIL
My mind wouldn’t stop spinning enoughfor me to make a plan. I prided myself on being analytical, with a single-minded focus on my goals, and I’d let go of all my instincts after a kiss from Giorgio Greco.
The sound of my gun hitting the floor was my wake-up call. I had let someone—aman— put me in a sex stupor to where I didn’t notice him removing my gun. I’d seen his gun and raced to get my knife out. It was a small switchblade I kept on me at all times, and I was grateful at that moment.
My mistake was letting our moment get to my head. I felt like I had to explain why I was killing him. The guy who rambled instead of acting always fucked up.
“Let me go,” I demanded, trying to buck up and roll him off.
Instead, I felt our exposed dicks getting hard from the skin-on-skin contact. Fuck. Not what I needed. It was just my body reacting anyway. I had played my part and used George, I mean Greco’s, perversion against him. If I let myself come more often, I wouldn’t react at all.
“Your mouth says go, but your body says don’t stop. I don’t think you want to go.” George taunted, his legs pinning mine. He settled in with our cocks side by side, pushing up to see my face. I saw a mix of emotions there, the main one being unamused. “There’s also the small matter of you trying to kill me.”
“Fuck you,” I spit, missing his face and hitting a still-suited shoulder. He didn’t even flinch. “My family will expect me home. They’ll come for you.”
“Did you lie about that like you lied about your name?”
“Blin, I didn’t lie,” I struggled a bit, but he had me truly under control. “Basil is my English name. And I said there was no one at the club with me. I never lied.”
“So, kissing me and getting off on my dick was all above board?” He looked more severe than I’d seen him, jaw ticking and eyes narrowed. Like he fucking cared if I faked it. “Or did you decide to seduce me and kill me before we met?”
“I—” I really was no good at lying. It was a weakness of mine, and I usually chose to stay quiet. “What does it matter?”
George moved me until he could restrain both wrists under one arm. I struggled to get free again, but the feel of his dick on mine had my eyes rolling back. He pulled something from a nearby drawer and I felt the rope on my skin before I noticed he was tying my wrists together. The rope wasn’t as soft as the sheets, but it wasn’t rough either.
“You kinky fucker,” I bucked and groaned at my mistake when pleasure rolled through me again. George sat up and slapped me across the face. I gasped and refocused, “What are you going to do to me?”
George ignored my question, reaching for more restraints in the drawer. He pulled out a bar with cuffs on each side, turning his body until he was facing my feet. I tried to kick him and he grabbed an ankle. Fuzzy fabric was secured on that leg, and my range of motion was severely limited when he did the same to the other.
Lifting my head off the pillow, I watched as George gripped the bar and pulled me down the bed until my arms were tight. A chain in the middle was secured to the bottom rail of the ornately carved wooden sleigh bed.
“I think I’ll play with you a little,” George ran his finger up my leg, skipping my cock all together, then continuing along my sensitive lower stomach to tweak at my nipple through my shirt. “Let’s get this shirt off you first.”
He climbed off the bed, picked up my pants and gun. Rifling through the pockets with my own gun pointed at me, George pulled out my phone and wallet. He set my things in the nightstand and closed the door, only pausing to grab the knife from where it fell on the floor during our fight. Holding the knife to my throat, fear finally set in.
“Is this an eye for an eye? I cut you so now you cut me?”
Ignoring my rambling, George unbuttoned my harness before lifting the collar of my undershirt. He nicked the seam before dropping my knife in the drawer as well. Meeting my eyes, he gripped both sides of the cut and tore. The ripping sound echoed in the room as he made quick work of laying me bare.
George took me in at his own pace, running his fingers over my smooth skin until he reached my pubes. My cock jerked in response, a puddle of pre-cum pooling over my belly button. “I might cut you, but first I want you to admit you were into it.”
“Into what?” I choked out, George’s fingers threading through the coarse, curly hair around my dick. “You sick, kinky, fucking queer.”
“Ah, as in denial as I was, maybe more so,” George returned to my nipples, pinching them and rolling the pebbled skin there. My body reacted, arching off the bed like I’d been shocked. “Have you ever been with a man before?”
“Of course not,” I sputtered, with George leaning over to lave my abused chest. My body lost control of speech when he sucked one nipple into his mouth, “Oh, fuck,yehbat’, chert,trakhni menya...O Bozhe!”
