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My heart leaped into my throat. What the hell?

He grinned, the unassuming facade breaking just for a moment as I saw the devil in his eyes. “If I’m going to fuck you, I’m not interested in you shooting your load and getting tired before we even get going. You’ll cum before we start, or you’ll leave.”

My back slammed against the wall. In the mirrors of the elevator, I groaned at the image of him stroking me inside of my jeans like it was nothing. Enzo slipped his hand free and opened them up, coaxing my cock out before he stroked me harder and faster. What am I doing here? My thoughts were forced back to reality quickly as Enzo’s fingers toyed with me.

“Mmm, fuck,” I moaned against the heat of his palm. “You’re insane.”

“No talking,” he demanded. “Cum or get the hell out of my sight.”

My eyes drifted to the numbers on the elevator as it rose. We were fast approaching floor thirty. When my eyes met Enzo’s again, he tilted his head.

“There are only forty-seven in the building,” he answered without me even having to ask. “You’re running out of time.”

Shit. The fact that he was imposing a time limit only made it that much worse. My cock throbbed in his expert grasp as my heart pounded so hard it was all I could hear. The ache in my balls overtook the ache in my arm as Enzo held my gaze and stroked me right to the edge.

“—uck!”

My breathing stopped as my eyes rolled back, and I slumped against the wall. The feeling in my legs disappeared, and I knew I was going to hit the ground, but I forced myself to stay upright. Had it really been that long since someone had touched me? Pleasure traveled up and down my spine, and I knew the answer to that was hell yes, it really had been forever.

I peeled my eyes open as Enzo pulled his hand away and examined the sticky mess I’d made on his palm. There were splotches of my cum on his pristine coat as well. His brows furrowed, an irritated expression coming over his face as he released my mouth and looked at his clothes disdainfully.

“All over me,” he muttered.

I groaned. “It’s not like it’s my fault,” I countered. “You were the one jerking me off, remember?”

“Yes,” he said shortly, an exasperated sigh following. “I suppose I got carried away.” He looked at my still semi-hard cock. “Really? How old are you? Nineteen?”

“Twenty-five,” I mumbled, shoving my cock back into my jeans as the back of my neck and cheeks erupted into flames. “It’s been a while,” I snapped when he continued to stare. “Oh fuck off,” I added when he raised a brow at me as if I was lying.

Enzo’s grin returned, and it was as if he was back in a good mood. He shoved his hand out toward me. “Clean this up.”

I blinked at him. “No way. I’m not tasting my own cum.”

Enzo’s right hand twisted into my hair, and he shoved his other hand over my lips. I stared at him, my mouth falling open in disbelief. He took that chance to smear cum into my mouth. I recoiled at the salty taste, the fact that he was so damn hot made it go down a hell of a lot smoother.

If he wasn’t in the mob, I would be back fucking him every night.

The danger alone was enough. But the way he took control and made me question every single thing I knew to be true was fun as hell. It felt wrong and intoxicating all at once.

He pulled his hand away as the elevator dinged, and we were let out into a small hallway with a door. Enzo collected his dry cleaning and let himself inside as I trailed him.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said. I had no intention of drinking more than a sip, but I could use it after the whole elevator thing.

I followed behind him and glanced around. There wasn’t a thing out of place. Every picture was generic hotel art. All of the furniture was high-end, but neutral tones of sandy brown and white, all of it accented with chrome appliances and gray pops of color. It said nothing about him.

Shit. Is this a waste of time?

Enzo shrugged off his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair as he walked to the bar. He took out two glasses and filled them with clear liquid from an expensive-looking crystal decanter. Enzo passed one over to me after dropping an ice cube into mine, the same way I’d had it at his club.

“Thanks,” I said.

He nodded, silent again as he stared at me over the top of his drink. Like he hadn’t just jerked me off in the elevator and was now casually staring at me. I sipped, enjoying the burn of gin as it coursed down my throat. Honestly, I hated the shit, but I liked the way it burned, and my father never could handle it. But I could. Just like I was going to handle Enzo Vitale.

“Take your clothes off,” Enzo said.

I blinked at him. “Just like that?” I asked. “You don’t want to talk?”

“What would you like to talk about?” he countered as he rounded the bar and walked into the living room. Enzo sat down, removed his shoes carefully, and placed them out of the way on the side of the couch. “I thought you wanted to be told what to do. That’s why you followed me, isn’t it?”

My throat tightened, and suddenly, I couldn’t swallow. Enzo’s grin widened. Every instinct in me screamed to turn and run the hell out of there before he could get his hands on me. Still, I stayed where I was.

One, I wasn’t going to flee when I needed to do this to get closer to him and figure him out. I still had to scope out his place and see if there was anything here. If not, then it looked like I would be fucking him more than once until I was given access to his real place. Two, I was mesmerized. Everything about Enzo screamed danger in big, pulsing red lights. I wanted to see more.

Focus on the mission. Get dirt on him, take the Vitale’s down, make detective.

“Hey.” Enzo snapped his fingers just once, and I awoke from my stupor to stare at him. “Clothes. Off. I told you once that I would do what I please with you. Strip.”

My cock jumped, and I reached up to unbutton my shirt. Enzo sipped his drink, his eyes following every move I made. Am I really doing this? I paused for a second, only for Enzo to give me an impatient look. I continued.

This was no different than going undercover. I had to keep my composure. I was going to prove to everyone at the precinct that I was not my father.

I was better.