Seven gasped, clenching his eyes shut as his orgasm crashed into him, making him spill between them.
“Fucking hell,” Enzo groaned, hips falling off rhythm as he continued to thrust inside. It only took another moment for him to follow, grunting as he ground his hips against him like he wanted to be as deep inside him as possible.
After a minute, Enzo carefully set his leg back on the bed, slipping free of his body. Seven watched him dazedly as he walked naked across the room, slipping off the condom and tossing it in the trash. When had he even put that on? Seven wasgrateful he had. He hadn’t even thought about it. Fuck. Enzo was hazardous to Seven’s well-being in every conceivable way.
He didn’t realize he’d dozed off until a warm, wet washcloth wiped over his belly, then between his legs. When Enzo helped him sit up, he tried to escape his grasp. “I should go home,” he mumbled, his words slurring.
“Drink,” Enzo said, forcing a Gatorade into his hands. When he almost dropped it, Enzo held it to his lips, forcing him to down at least half before he let him settle back onto the pillows. “Sleep, brat baby. You can run away in the morning.”
And he did.
He woke hours later, eyes burning, muscles aching, his ass and throat sore. The sky outside was just starting to brighten, allowing just enough light for Seven to look down at Enzo. He looked less dangerous when he was sleeping, lashes fanned out over his cheeks, all the tension gone from his face.
Seven’s heart somersaulted behind his ribs. Fuck, he had to get out of there. Now. Before Enzo woke up and this got…complicated. He carefully inched his way to the edge of the mattress, freezing when Enzo mumbled in his sleep, forehead creased with…something. Once he was safely off the bed, Seven located his phone plugged in on the bedside table, using it to attempt to locate his clothes.
They weren’t hard to find.
They were neatly folded on the chair in the corner. Not the ones he wore last night, but the clothes he’d packed in his bag. There was a bright pink sticky note on top of the pile along with ibuprofen, a granola bar, and four Hershey’s kisses.
He snorted out a bitter laugh at the peculiar combination of sundries.
If you’re reading this, you’re most likely plotting to run away. The ibuprofen is for the pain that’s probably already setting in, the granola bar is because I know you’ll skipbreakfast, the chocolate is because your blood sugar might crash after last night. There are more protein shakes and Gatorade in the fridge. Help yourself to anything else before you leave.
You were perfect for me. Such a good boy. Study hard in school today, brat baby. Let me know if you ever wanna play again.
~D
D?
Daddy.
Fuck.
Seven rushed to put his clothes on, shoving his feet into his shoes, grabbing his backpack and stuffing his snacks into it. He did grab a Gatorade on the way out, fighting the urge to look at the man sprawled out on the bed one last time. He made it all the way to the sidewalk before regret kicked him in the teeth.
He’d just made a huge mistake. The biggest of his life.
He just didn’t know if it was leaving without saying goodbye, or showing up in the first place.
2.5 weeks after that night
“You sure you know what you’re doing?”
Lorenzo Conti raised a brow at his brother. Lucian—Lucky to those who knew him—sat slouched in a chair on the other side of Enzo’s desk, his dirty boots kicked up on the corner. He wore dark denim jeans and a black polo shirt, his gun and badge clipped to his hip. He looked out of place in the fancy chrome and marble decor ofBlackwood, Thorne & Fairchild, the law office where Enzo had worked for the better part of his career.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Enzo said, gaze darting through the glass wall of his office for the hundredth time.
It figured the brat would be late. It was probably a good thing, considering Lucky didn’t look like he planned on leaving anytime soon. Why would he go to work when he could sit around and lecture Enzo? Of course, like Enzo, Lucky’s real joboften involved not doing the cover job that paid his bills. That was just how it was in their family.
Lucky snorted. “I mean, don’t shit where you eat, asshat.”
“Charming,” Enzo said, straightening his tie. He refused to mention how that particular ship had already sailed. “I know what I’m doing.”
Lucky grimaced. “Every time you say that, my eye twitches.”
“Maybe you should see a doctor,” Enzo quipped.
His brother heaved a sigh, running a hand over his close-cropped brown hair. “This isn’t one of your little fuckbois you play with at Eden. This kid comes with strings. And those strings are attached on either side to two very powerful allies: Navarro and the Mulvaneys. Mama will be pissed if you fuck up her relationship with either.”
