by J. C. Owens
Sergei shook his head, and his annoyance grew as his friend’s eyes glittered with humor, something he only ever displayed to Enzo himself.
“You are being deliberately blind, mostly because this is too complicated for your senses. Chase is no weakling. He might be healing, but don’t doubt his ability to judge things around him. Don’t lessen what he feels as anything less than the truth.”
He glared at him for long moments. “You suggest I fuck the boy then? Ruin him? Let him believe I have anything to give him more than I have?” He snorted. “As you said earlier, I am what I am. I cannot change that. Chase needs to be free and have no part of our world. I am almost twice his age, have you forgotten that? Perhaps what he feels is more of a father complex.”
“You need to give Chase more credit. He is not a child. He is a young man who has been greatly damaged. Out of all that, beyond what happened, he found someone to love, a reason to keep going. Strong though he is, he would not have made it but for you. He looked to you, saw that you believed in him, and he clung to that like a lifeline.”
He scowled. “He did it himself. I just gave him the foundation to step off of.”
“He might have done it himself, true, but he did it for you, because of you. You gave him something to reach for, and that something was your acceptance of him, your pride in his achievements. Before you, he had no reason to try. He did not respect nor love himself, so he respected and loved you enough to do what he did.”
He could find no answer, so he set his jaw and was prudently silent.
“You should take him to your bed, love him, keep him, and be fucking grateful you found him. Most of us would give our right arms to be loved like that.”
He turned his head, staring at his friend in utter disbelief. “Have you heard nothing I have said?”
“I heard, and I am glad you see the difficulties, but if you do not do something, you will lose him, and you will regret it all your life.” Sergei’s tone held no doubt. “Chase is not going to be safe wherever he goes, so if you think staying away from him is going to help, think again, my friend. Everyone knows what he is to you, and whether or not he is your lover, he is in danger. As head of your security, I can say it would be far easier to protect the two of you together, rather than have you apart.”
He blinked, speechless. Sergei eyed him, and burst out laughing.
He looked away, gritting his teeth, swirling the scotch in the glass with swift, irritated motions.
“I certainly hope you are not talking me into this for no better reason than that.” His face smoothed, the irritation fleeing, a faint grin lifting the corner of his mouth.
“You make my job bloody difficult at the best of times. Anything I can do to make it easier…” Sergei had settled into a chuckle. “So—have I done it?”
He eyed him. “Done what?”
“Talked you into it.”
“I still don’t think you are seeing all the reasons that this is a very, very bad idea.”
“No, I am balancing out your morose pessimism. You have to see both sides. But you better hurry, or you are going to lose out.”
He raised an eyebrow, wondering what exactly his security chief was up to. There were too many nuances in his voice to ignore.
“Well, Kirith sent Landon to cheer Chase up, so he took him out.”
He turned slightly, frowning at Sergei. “Landon left Kirith alone? What is that little…”
“He would do anything for Kirith, you know that. As I said before, Kirith sent Landon to take Chase out. No doubt Chase phoned Kirith, like he always does. He was a little upset after the run in with you, as you well know.”
He felt a growl rising in his chest. “I am perfectly capable of looking after Chase. Why would Kirith do this, and not even tell me?”
“Actually Kirith phoned earlier, but you were in the meeting, and Raymond was with you.”
The frown upon his brow grew larger. “I will have to phone him back and find out what the hell this is about. But more than that, where did Landon take Chase?”
Sergei tilted his lips into the faintest of grins. “Dark Whispers.”
Chase found the club utterly overwhelming. If he had not had Landon at his side, and three of Kirith’s men at his back, he would have turned tail and returned home, but Landon was giving him no options. He had him by the arm, a broad grin flaring to life as he viewed the dance floor, filled with writhing, gleaming bodies.
“Always wanted to try this out. Kirith and I dance at home, but this is something else. You and me, kid. Let’s do it.”
He squawked as he was dragged out into the mass of people. He stumbled and grabbed Landon, his fingers clenching in the new black silk shirt his co-conspirator wore. He could feel the hard muscle evident underneath, and he flushed, snatching his hand away as soon as he gained his balance.
Landon laughed at his blush, grabbing a hold of him and turning him around so his ass was pressed into Landon’s groin, and they stood front to back.
He froze.
“Relax,” Landon whispered, making him shiver. “Listen to the music, and start moving. Feel your body.”
How the hell he could move plastered to that lean body? He fumed and tried to pull away, only to hear Landon chuckle.
“Just imagine I am Enzo. That should get this little ass moving.”
He growled, fingers tugging at the grip Landon had on his hips, to no avail.
He huffed, already knowing that Kirith’s lover was a whole lot wicked, certainly more so since he had been corrupted by Kirith himself.
He knew how to move, damn it!
Landon began to sway his hips, forcing him to keep time. He could not help but feel the press of Landon’s groin, and his flush grew hotter. That particular package was all Kirith’s, and he wanted no part of this. Really.
That smoky dark laugh swirled by his ear, and he shivered. Landon was all sexuality unleashed, a perfect partner for Kirith.
“Come on, kid. Show me what you got.” There was faint taunting in the tone, and it got his blood up.
He decided to go with what Landon had suggested. Imagine this was Enzo.
It was hard to imagine Enzo lowering himself to stand with the masses to dance, but he could fantasize.
He threw his head back against Landon’s shoulder and let go of his inhibitions. He imagined that he and Enzo were alone, those hands on his hips creating a link, a bond between them. He danced his passion, his need and the promise of what he wanted to give to the man he loved.
The hands remained firm, keeping him grounded enough not to lose himself totally, but the club faded away, and in his mind there was only he and Enzo, together, alone. Dancing as he had seen Kirith and Landon dance, all sexual innuendo and fire. Foreplay.
“Well, well, well. Seems our little ploy has worked after all. Damn, kid. He must feel something for you.”
His eyes snapped open, and he had to center himself from his dreams, the harsh reality almost painful as it pressed in upon him. For long moments he had had what he truly wanted, and now it was cold as he came back to himself. Alone.
He blinked and then froze in place.
Across the floor, in the segregated VIP section, a tall, dark figure stood, arms folded over his chest, eyes fixed upon Chase.
Enzo.
He could only meet that disapproving glare, feeling himself begin to shrink into his grief once more.
Landon whirled him round and pushed deeper into the dancers. “Are you gonna let him do that? Just gonna bow down to him? He didn’t want what you offered. Maybe you have to show him something different, hmm? Shake your ass, kid. Show him what he is missing.” He could see the gleam of teeth in the flashing lights. “You want Enzo. You have to show him you can stand up to him. That guy only reacts to challenges, believe me. So challenge him.”
He hesitated. The wildness that was so a part of Landon was nothing that he had ever found in himself, but—if it made Enzo look at him with even a faint hint of inter
est, it would so be worth it. Last chance, his mind whispered. What do you have to lose?
He looked up and met Landon’s manic grin. He curled his own lips upward and nodded.
Landon laughed with obvious delight, and the dancers around them turned to look at the seductive sound. Many were looking at him, not just sexy Landon. He held his own attraction, his own allure. “Fuck,” he whispered, in disbelief.
Landon stepped back and began to move, wicked eyes fixed on his, challenge in every line of him.
He grinned and began to imitate him, their mirror image drawing attention from several watchers. Landon grew ever more outrageous, to the point of lewd, and he followed, beginning to laugh at Landon’s antics. He pulled his phone from his pocket, and set it to record his partner’s sexy moves. “For Kirith,” he mouthed, and Landon nodded, eyes growing hazy with desire at the mere mention of his partner.
He forgot his own dancing in lieu of carefully recording Landon for several minutes, catching the sexual essence of the other man in detail. Landon pulled his shirt free and dipped his fingers just within his pants, head back as he moved without the slightest hint of self-consciousness.
He felt his own heat rise just watching the performance.
If he could move like that, act like that, would Enzo see him as more than a fragile, damaged child? He was more than his past, he had at least learned that, but to shed it for even a few moments—that was going to take some courage.
He put his phone away, shooting a glance over his shoulder. He could not see Enzo now; the press of bodies blocked all view in that direction, but he could feel his presence like a flame licking along his nerve endings.
He sucked in a deep breath. He wanted Enzo. He would do anything to have him, anything at all, and if that included reaching inside himself to bring out his latent sexuality, then that was exactly what he would do.
Flinging his head back, he began his own dance, no longer imitating Landon. This was coming from within, an expression of self that he had never experienced before. None of the people around him knew who he was. They could not pity him for his past or reject him because of it. Here, he was free of all that, and it was a feeling of giddiness that enveloped him then.
This time, he did not dance for Enzo, he danced for himself, for all he felt within, and it was amazingly cathartic.
He did not know how much time passed before he came back to reality, only that his body was sweat soaked and trembling, his mind calm and focused. He shot a look at Landon, who looked none the worse for wear, still apparently full of energy. He shook his head, grinning a little. Kirith had his hands full with that one.
And he was going to have his hands full with Enzo.
Because have him, he would. Some part of him held no doubt at all, and it was that part that made him move away through the crowd, determined to find the Martinelli.
When he reached the edge of the dance floor, he paused, searching the area he had seen Enzo earlier.
There was no sign of him now, and his stomach dropped. Surely he would not have left…
He prowled further along the edge, dodging people, then froze in place, eyes narrowing, hands slowly folding into fists.
Enzo was there, to the right of the bar in the VIP section. Who could be more VIP than the owner, right?
People were grouped round him, most at a bit of a distance, no doubt kept at bay by Sergei’s scowling demeanor, not to mention the other bodyguards ranged silently some distance back, but others, perhaps employees, were close, their smiles fatuous, eyes gleaming with both avarice and admiration.
And one young man was…entirely too close. Slim, blond hair perfectly styled, clothes that did little to hide his body. Too damn perfect.
Seated beside Enzo on the lush cushions of the booth, he was leaning in, gently stroking Enzo’s arm with a long-fingered hand, eyes hungry upon Enzo’s face. The Martinelli was not paying a particular amount of attention. He had taken off his suit jacket and rolled back his sleeves, looking relaxed and completely at home in this place of debauchery, drink in hand as he viewed the boy with a certain amount of amused tolerance.
Two of the bodyguards stood near the sides of the booth, cold eyes watching every nuance of the crowd, while Sergei sat to Enzo’s right, his presence more of a deterrent than six other men.
He gritted his teeth, feeling fury rise within him, as the boy traced his fingers ever downward, finally stroking over a tanned forearm.
This was too much. Someone else touching Enzo’s very skin was the last straw.
He strode forward, almost pushing people out of his way, eyes fixed unerringly upon his target. The bodyguards recognized him, their eyebrows raising somewhat at his demeanor, but obviously seeing no threat in him, allowing him past. People watched in disbelief as he made his way through their ranks and entered the forbidden zone.
Sergei looked up, and he swore he saw amusement in the security chief’s eyes, before they lowered to his glass.
Enzo took a deep swallow of his drink, then froze in place as he saw him approaching.
His dark eyes narrowed ever so slightly, then his expression smoothed into blankness.
He was not to be deterred. He did not hesitate as he reached down, and grabbed the boy’s arm, hauling him unceremoniously off the seat, and letting him drop to the floor. The victim squawked in outrage, trying to scramble up, only to pause as he saw the fury in Chase’s eyes.
Having vanquished the foe, he turned to the real challenge. Trying not to think of possible repercussions, he slid into the booth on his knees, maneuvering himself so he pushed the table back enough so he could straddle Enzo’s lap, facing him.
The Martinelli froze, eyes wide, more shocked than he had ever seen him.
The sound of Sergei’s laughter rang in his ears, as he slid his fingers into thick, black hair, holding it firmly as he slanted his face down over Enzo’s. He felt large hands settle on his hips, no doubt to push him away, but he licked over Enzo’s lips, moaning at even this small taste of heaven.
Enzo parted his lips beneath his as if he were going to speak, but he took charge, darting in his tongue to sweep over every surface he could reach.
So good…so hot. A groan rose in his chest, need rising, his cock hardening against Enzo’s crotch.
Please, he begged silently. Just let yourself go; feel what I can give you.
To his relief, he felt a response, the cock beneath his beginning to stir. Enzo was being affected whether he wanted this or not. He flexed his hips, rubbing, deepening his kiss with all of the passion he had held suppressed for so long. The hands on his hips twitched, and he smiled into the kiss. Those hands were not pushing him away, not displaying the strength Enzo possessed.
The thought buoyed him, and he drove his tongue into Enzo’s mouth, inviting that other tongue to come out and play. The thought of others watching this byplay brought no shyness. Instead it made the heat rise higher. He wanted the world to watch. Enzo was his, whether he realized it or not. Of course, if Enzo reacted badly, his humiliation was going to be public knowledge, but this was his final chance. Perhaps the weight of watchers would still Enzo’s possibly adverse reaction. Did he care enough about his feelings enough actually to protect him from being disgraced by rejection?
He was willing to exploit that advantage shamelessly.
The taste of that mouth… He whimpered, flexing his hips, feeling Enzo’s cock hardening, the bar of flesh pressing against his own, rubbing deliciously. The thought of touching, stroking, tasting that intimate part of Enzo’s body made him shiver, moving his hands down over the muscular arms restlessly, tracing the muscles through the dark blue designer shirt. The feel of that hard-toned body made him long to rip aside the barriers they both wore, to press naked skin against skin. Much as he wanted such a thing, he refused to unbutton Enzo’s shirt. There was no way he was exposing his man to watching eyes. Enzo was not known for flaunting himself in public, and he instinctively knew that such a move would provoke
a negative reaction.
He felt Enzo twine his tongue with his—a response at last—and felt hips thrusting ever so slightly beneath him.
He whimpered into the kiss. The feel of Enzo actually reacting drove his need higher. His whole body shuddered, as he felt Enzo growl under the assault, the fingers on his hips tightening painfully for long moments. He lifted his gaze and met dark, smoldering eyes, something rising within them that should have made him fearful. A hint of the shadows that made the Martinelli so dangerous. But he met the look with one of his own. Full of need and want. Pleading. He did not flinch from the proximity of those shadows. They were part of the man he loved, and he had seen far too much darkness in his life to step aside from this. He would show Enzo what was beyond the shadows, a place the Martinelli had never ventured.
He knew, in his very being, that he was the only one who could do this. It gave him strength, gave him a deeper determination than he had ever known.
He may want Enzo, need him, but the Martinelli needed him just as much. He just did not understand that yet. It was up to him to show the crime lord what lay beyond the world that he ruled over.
There was so much more.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he drew back a little, licking his lips at the taste of Enzo that lingered upon his mouth.
Enzo blinked, his intensity fading somewhat as though he realized where they were and what was truly happening. He did not give him time to think, to allow that iron will to come to the fore.
He stroked one hand over a lean cheek, glorying in the touch. “I want you to take me, to show me what it is like to have true pleasure. If you don’t, I will have to find another…” He let the words trail off, watching the rage flare in those fierce eyes. “I need to know, I need to experience something other than pain and humiliation. I trust you, and I love you. Please, don’t make me go to someone who has no care. I need this—I want this so much.” His whisper feathered over Enzo’s skin. It was risky, appealing to Enzo’s possessive side, but it was all he could think of. The look that Enzo had worn when he had been watching him dance with Landon had given him hope. Now, with bated breath, he played his last card.