“Do you have clothes?Shoes?”I ask.
“Yeah.The women here have been gracious.I have plenty to wear.”
“Are you alone right now?”
“No.There’s a terrifying, flesh-eating overlord standing over me, listening to every word while casually picking at a platter of dead puppies.”
“Despídete ya, chino,” Matias Restrepo growls in the background.
She giggles.Fucking giggles.The sound is so unexpected, I choke on my tongue.Jag and I lock eyes, wide and stunned, both of us frozen until she speaks again.
“He has a reputation to maintain,” she whispers.Another giggle.Then… “I’m going to let you go before he pops a blood vessel.I love you.Both of you.”
Jag clamps a hand over his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to hold himself together.The fearsomeVigilanteis absolutely one breath away from tears.
Movement sounds on the line as a presence slides in and takes over the air.
“Tomorrow at dusk,” thejefesays, clipped and unmistakably in charge.“Same as last time.”
The call disconnects.
Jag lowers his hand, eyes damp and breath ragged.I stare at him, this brilliant, ruthless man undone by a giggle and three words of love, while my heart tries to beat itself out of my chest.
She’s safe.Comfortably safe.We’ll see her tomorrow, and until then…
What you choose to do together won’t hurt me.
The strain that’s been pulling between us for a month finally snaps.
We move at the same time and collide in a crash of mouths.Desperate and uncoordinated, the kiss seethes with hunger, relief, and everything we’ve been ignoring.
His hand flies to my hair.Mine fists in the waistband of his jeans.We consume each other with tongues and teeth, and the past eleven days drain out of me in a rush.Fear, pressure, the constant stab ofwhat if, it all bleeds away beneath the unwavering assault of his lips.
His mouth dominates, and mine answers with equal fervor.We stumble, knock into furniture, and everything narrows to the rhythm of us breathing and grinding together.
The destination doesn’t matter as long as it includes bare skin and something solid under us.
We stay fused as we stagger toward the stairs, hands grabbing and ripping fabric.Every step is clumsy and urgent.Jeans, shirts, boxers, our discarded clothes mark our path until there are none left.
Midway up the stairs, he starts to reach for my cock and freezes.His eyes find mine as he struggles for breath.
“Don’t stop.”I trap him against the wall, grab his hand, and close his fingers around my aching shaft.“If I spiral, you’ll pull me back.”
“Wolf.”
“Jag.”
“We’ll go slow.”He twists his wrist in a long, unhurried stroke.
“Sweet hell.”I rock my hips, pumping into his fist.“I give it thirty seconds.”
My hands roam across the wide plane of his chest, over boulders of shoulders and bulges of biceps.I learn the shape and texture of his strong throat, pausing to feel his pulse kick under my fingers.His jaw flexes against my palm, muscle and tendon straining as we devour each other in a wet, obscene, open-mouth kiss.
He’s all man, rock-hard and battle-tested, as he jerks me with a practiced hand.No wasted motion.Nothing held back.
I want him.I’m on fucking fire for him.But I don’t know what that means.
Who will fuck whom?I’ve never done consensual anal.It’s probably a trigger-heavy zone.I know he’s bottomed, but that was when he was turning tricks on the street.
