Just a Bit Wicked (Straight Guys Book 7)

by Alessandra Hazard

  But what?

  * * *

  Sebastian almost drifted off to sleep when he heard the nearly silent sound of footsteps approaching the bed.

  “Your locks are pathetic,” the familiar voice said.

  “Stop breaking into my flat,” Sebastian mumbled into the pillow, yawning. “I’m sick of getting my locks fixed.”

  “Get good ones.” Vlad switched the bedside lamp on.

  Sebastian turned onto his back just as Vlad leaned down to kiss him.

  When their lips met, Sebastian sighed, feeling himself melt into the kiss as Vlad kissed him unhurriedly but thoroughly. Sebastian’s hands found their way onto Vlad’s back and pulled Vlad closer, his mouth opening wider to give Vlad’s tongue better access. God, he felt the kiss down to his toes, warmth spreading all over his body. This was just what he needed after such a long day.

  But his eyelids were growing heavier and Sebastian pushed Vlad away a little, breaking the kiss.

  “You should have called,” he said with a yawn, closing his eyes. “I’m too sore and tired for sex.” It wasn’t strictly true, but he was bone tired after the photo shoot and didn’t feel like he was in any state for a few rounds of rough, energetic sex he and Vlad usually had. He felt like being pampered and loved up tonight, but obviously that was out of the question with Vlad.

  “Sore?” Vlad said in a strange voice. “Why?”

  “Because being a model is actually very tiring, you know,” Sebastian said. People often thought that being a model was as easy as having to smile for a few minutes. They didn’t realize how long it could take to set up the shots, the lights, the camera, how hard it was to assume some poses and do it again and again and again, until the picture was just right. By the end of the photo shoot, his muscles ached, and not in a good way. “We barely had time to eat.”

  “We?”

  “Antonio and I,” Sebastian mumbled with another yawn. “Didn’t I tell you we were working together for Tristan’s fashion line?”

  “You did.”

  Sebastian frowned, noticing that Vlad sounded tense. He had to bite back the question on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t need to know Vlad’s intimate thoughts. He was content to keep it that way.

  It was bad enough that he was kind of…addicted to Vlad in the worst possible ways. When Vlad kissed him, he felt worshiped. When Vlad touched him, he melted into the touch, wanting more, more, and more, until their bodies were inside each other. When Vlad stared at him, he felt beautiful and interesting. The latter was particularly intoxicating. He loved how badly Vlad wanted him, loved seeing the reluctant attraction and fascination in Vlad’s eyes when he looked at him. Sebastian couldn’t explain it. He just knew he got a bit giddy and warm on the inside whenever their eyes locked. It was a heady, addictive feeling—and a dangerous one. He and Vlad were casual fuck-buddies, nothing more.

  Though, sometimes it was hard to stay firm in that belief. It was hard to stay aloof when he could see the turmoil of emotions in Vlad’s eyes. No matter what he told himself, he couldn’t just turn his emotions off. Although Vlad had kept his word and didn’t say anything to him, there was a part of Sebastian that wanted to reach out and comfort him when Vlad felt stressed out, to say that it was okay, that being attracted to men wasn’t wrong. He didn’t, of course. For one thing, he doubted such an attempt would be well received. For another, Sebastian was terrified. Terrified of getting too attached.

  “Antonio is fun,” Sebastian murmured. He wanted to open his eyes and look at Vlad but didn’t want to risk it. He sucked at resisting Vlad when Vlad looked at him. “It’s never boring with him.”

  “I’m sure,” Vlad said with such venom that Sebastian snapped his eyes open. He suddenly remembered that Vlad had heard his phone conversation with Antonio a few weeks ago and knew that he and Antonio were fuck-buddies.

  Was Vlad jealous?

  The thought made a funny feeling appear in the pit of his stomach.

  Sebastian eyed Vlad, his stiff posture and stony face.

  Was he jealous?

  “He wanted to come over,” Sebastian said, watching Vlad carefully. “But I was too sore and didn’t feel like getting more sore.”

  Not a single muscle moved on Vlad’s face. Sebastian’s stomach dropped and he realized he had wanted Vlad to be jealous. It was stupid, but he had wanted it. He had wanted Vlad to explode with rage, grab him and kiss him, and say Sebastian was his and only his—

  What in the actual fuck? He’d always despised possessiveness, had always thought he was nobody’s possession, and now he wanted Vlad to go all possessive over him?

  “I’m sure he can come over another day,” Vlad said tonelessly, not even looking at Sebastian. He didn’t seem bothered at all. And why would he? Sebastian was just a casual fuck, nothing more. Unlike him, Vlad didn’t seem to have a problem remembering it.

  “Yeah,” Sebastian said, anger tightening his throat muscles. God, he was such an idiot. “Maybe tomorrow. I’ll invite him over tomorrow.”

  Vlad pressed his lips and gave a curt nod. “I won’t bother you anymore, then.” He turned away swiftly and grabbed his jacket from the chair.

  Panic bubbled up inside him. Was he leaving for good? Would he ever be back?

  “Wait,” Sebastian blurted out, hating himself a little for it. When Vlad turned to him, Sebastian looked at Vlad from under his eyelashes. “You can come, too. Tomorrow.”

  Vlad went very still. “What?”

  Fuck, was he really suggesting a threesome with Antonio? But he had painted himself into a corner. He couldn’t back out now.

  Sebastian forced out a smile. “If Antonio comes, it doesn’t mean you can’t, too. The more the merrier, right? It will be fun. Tony lives for casual sex and would be fine with it.”

  Vlad stared at him. Sebastian couldn’t read his face at all.

  At last, Vlad nodded tersely and walked out of the room.

  Sebastian was left blinking after him, feeling lost. How had they gone from having delicious, toe-curling kisses to agreeing to have a threesome with another man?

  And what’s wrong with a threesome?

  Sebastian frowned, chewing on his lip. Threesomes could be fun. He had participated in a few of them in the past, but…But.

  He didn’t think Vlad was comfortable enough with his sexuality to participate in a threesome with another man. Vlad wouldn’t be comfortable touching another man. Or kissing another man, or paying attention to someone other than him, Sebastian—

  Sebastian groaned aloud. Seriously? Jealousy and possessiveness had no place in a casual relationship. This was bad.

  So, so bad.

  Chapter 22

  Antonio Bonaventura was a tall, dark-haired man with olive skin, very white teeth, and a charming smile.

  Vlad disliked him immediately.

  Antonio smiled at Vlad, giving him an appreciative once-over before shaking his hand firmly. His thumb caressed Vlad’s wrist. “You can call me Tony.”

  Sebastian cleared his throat, putting a hand on Vlad’s bicep. “So, this is Vlad, my…” He trailed off, his brows furrowing. “Friend,” he finished eventually.

  Antonio chuckled. “A friend like me, right, bello?” He winked at Sebastian, slinging an arm around his shoulders and kissing the corner of Sebastian’s mouth.

  Vlad forced himself to unclench his fists. He looked away, wondering what he was even doing there. He shouldn’t have come. The mere idea of sex with that guy turned his stomach with unease and faint disgust. For all the doubts that filled his mind after sex with Sebastian, touching and kissing Sebastian never made him uneasy.

  He wanted to leave.

  Except he didn’t want to leave Sebastian alone with that slimy Italian. He hated the way the Italian looked at Sebastian, undressing him with his eyes.

  Soon he will be literally undressing him.

  Vlad ground his teeth and told himself he didn’t care. No strings attached: that was what they had agreed on. They didn�
�t owe each other anything. Sebastian could touch anyone he wanted. Any other man—or woman—could touch Sebastian. Vlad didn’t have the prerogative.

  Antonio’s hand moved down Sebastian’s back.

  Vlad took a step toward them and then forced himself to stop. Sebastian didn’t belong to him. He had no claim. He didn’t want any claim.

  Still chatting with Antonio, Sebastian shot him a look Vlad couldn’t quite read.

  Antonio’s hand moved lower. The Italian leaned into Sebastian, smiling. His lips touched Sebastian’s. He was kissing Sebastian, kissing Sebastian’s sweet, perfect mouth, groping him, pulling him close—

  Vlad’s control snapped.

  He hauled the fucker off Sebastian and tossed him away. Antonio collided with a chair and fell on the floor, cursing in Italian and glowering at Vlad. “What the fuck?” he growled, getting to his feet with a grunt. “What’s wrong with your pet Russian, Sebastian?”

  “Get out,” Vlad told the Italian.

  Antonio scoffed and took a step toward him. “You think you can just—”

  “I think you’d better go, Tony,” Sebastian said, looking at Vlad oddly.

  “Are you serious?” Antonio snapped.

  “Yes,” Sebastian said. “I’m sorry, I’ll explain later.”

  “You’d better!” Antonio huffed, grabbed his coat, and stormed out.

  “Well, what was that?” Sebastian said after the door slammed shut.

  His lips were red and shiny from Antonio’s mouth.

  Vlad yanked him close and smashed their lips together in a bruising kiss. Every cell in his body seemed to be straining to get closer to Sebastian, press against him, sink inside him, melt and fuse together until Sebastian was branded with Vlad’s name from the inside.

  When he finally let Sebastian breathe, Sebastian stared at him dazedly, two red spots on his pale cheeks.

  “You will tell the Italian he can’t touch you anymore,” Vlad said.

  Sebastian’s eyes cleared a little. “I will? And why would I do that?”

  Vlad opened his mouth and closed it. He said gruffly, “Because he tastes disgusting and your mouth stinks of him.”

  Sebastian smiled. “So, theoretically, if I find someone who doesn’t taste disgusting, you’ll be fine with it?”

  Vlad glowered. “You’re such a little shit,” he said and gave Sebastian another bruising kiss.

  Sebastian was grinning. “I’m six feet tall. Hardly little.”

  “You’re still a little shit,” Vlad said and kissed him again, softer this time. God, he couldn’t get enough.

  When they broke the kiss, Sebastian looked at him seriously. “We are not exclusive, Vlad. Casual fuck-buddies, remember?”

  Vlad’s fingers dug into Sebastian’s sides. “Sure.”

  “Then what was that?” Sebastian said. Despite his words, he didn’t look angry. His expression was soft, his lips folded into a pout.

  Vlad wanted to kiss him.

  “I’m an uneducated possessive caveman, remember?” he said, forcing lightness into his voice. “That’s why we met, after all.”

  Sebastian worried his lip, a mix of conflicting emotions appearing on his face. “That’s different. Nina was your girlfriend of two years. I’m not. I’m just a guy you’ve been fucking for a month.”

  Vlad didn’t know what to say to that. Sebastian was right. He had no right to feel like Sebastian’s skin and mouth were only his to kiss. They weren’t, and he’d better remember that. He was the one who had told Sebastian this was just a casual arrangement.

  “Look,” Sebastian said. “I know I shouldn’t have pushed you into this threesome thing. I knew you were nowhere ready. But you can’t do this, either—can’t act like a jealous boyfriend. It really fucks with my head. Don’t do that, okay? Don’t complicate it.”

  Vlad nodded stiffly.

  “Good. Now let’s go to bed,” Sebastian said with a soft smile, grabbing Vlad’s hand and pulling him toward the bedroom. Vlad let him, noting that despite his admonishing words, the little shit looked very pleased by Vlad’s jealous outburst.

  Instead of making him feel better about the whole thing, it made Vlad feel like the scum of the earth. He was fucking it up for both of them. Casual fuck-buddies didn’t feel possessiveness. Casual fuck-buddies didn’t attack another man for touching their fuck-buddy. Sebastian should have kicked him out immediately instead of being secretly pleased, or Vlad should have put an end to this himself. Sebastian deserved better. Vlad liked him. He genuinely liked him as a person. He didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to be another Mike Fletcher.

  But you are, a voice taunted in the back of his mind. You’re exactly like him. You still can’t admit you’re a faggot, still think you’re better than that.

  Sebastian pushed him on the bed and straddled Vlad’s thighs. “What do you want tonight?” he said, slipping his hands under Vlad’s t-shirt with an impish smile.

  He was beautiful. A man shouldn’t be so damn beautiful.

  “You,” Vlad said hoarsely, pulling him down to his mouth.

  The voice in his head grew weaker as he kissed Sebastian, losing himself in his addictive taste and scent, trying and failing to get enough.

  But Vlad knew the voice would return.

  It always did.

  Chapter 23

  Vlad returned to Luke’s flat at the wee hours of the morning.

  He tensed upon realizing the security system was turned off—turned off by someone who wasn’t him.

  Vlad pulled his gun out of his holster, trying to see the details in the dark living room. The penthouse was quiet. Hopefully Luke was sound asleep in his bedroom, which could be opened only from the inside if someone unauthorized managed to turn the security system off, which seemed to be the case. Inwardly, he berated himself for leaving Luke alone. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t required to bodyguard Luke 24/7—he had four hours off every day, and Luke did have security stationed by his private lift, but there were still ways to get inside the flat if one was dedicated enough. Although Roman had told him a few days ago that Charves was unlikely to target Luke at this point, Roman had many enemies. One of them might have found out about Roman’s boy.

  He shouldn’t have left, or at least he shouldn’t have spent over an hour kissing Sebastian after sex, reluctant to leave while Sebastian looked so soft, flushed, and fucked out. Pathetic. His own actions made him cringe lately.

  Not enough to stop, his inner voice said snidely.

  Shaking it off, Vlad focused on his surroundings, moving silently and holding his breath.

  The flat was absolutely silent, which meant the intruder had heard him and was either hiding or moving silently toward him. The pitch-black darkness made it impossible to tell which, but Vlad was calm, his mind clearing of everything irrelevant and focusing entirely on the danger.

  There. A barely audible breath from the left. Vlad was moving before he even fully registered it. He collided with the intruder, sending them both crashing to the floor. The other man was tall and big, about Vlad’s size, and they wrestled in silence, trying to get the upper hand. They were pretty evenly matched, Vlad noted with surprise as he struggled to pin the man under him and incapacitate him. There was something very familiar about the way the intruder fought.

  “Vlad, get off me,” the man said.

  Swearing, Vlad let go of the man and rolled to his feet. Finding the switch, he turned on the lights.

  The very unamused face of his boss greeted him. Roman stood up, as well. “Where the hell have you been and why are you returning at three in the morning?” he said coldly. The unsaid “instead of protecting Luke” hung in the air.

  Vlad gritted his teeth. He was sick of Roman’s passive-aggressive attitude toward him. Yes, he had—sort of—betrayed Roman’s trust once, but he’d saved his hide dozens of times. “I have four free hours every day. It’s in my contract. I don’t have to be at your boy’s beck and call 24/7. He’s asleep. What am I supposed to pr
otect him from? Nightmares? You told me the Charves threat was minimal.”

  Roman’s expression turned sharp and assessing as his gaze swept over Vlad.

  Vlad told himself there was no way Roman could tell what he’d been doing in the last couple of hours.

  “Everything fine?” Vlad said, trying to divert Roman’s attention. “Charves?”

  “He won’t be a problem anymore,” Roman said, his eyes gleaming with cold satisfaction.

  Vlad almost felt sorry for Charves. But then again, the guy had been one sick psycho.

  “Roma?”

  Vlad turned his head.

  Luke was blinking sleepily before a brilliant smile lit up his face. “You’re home!” He all but ran toward Roman and flung himself at him. Roman hugged him tightly, burying his face in Luke’s curls.

  Vlad watched in mild disbelief as Roman nuzzled Luke’s hair, taking shallow, greedy breaths. “Hey, kotyonok,” he murmured, kissing Luke’s ear.

  “I missed you,” Luke said into Roman’s neck. “Missed you so much.”

  “Yeah,” Roman said hoarsely before hiking Luke’s legs up around his waist and carrying him out of the living room.

  Vlad stared after them before going to the bar and grabbing a mini-bottle of vodka. With Roman back, his job as Luke’s bodyguard was effectively over. He could get wasted if he wanted.

  Opening the bottle, Vlad went out on the balcony. It was a cold, windy night, but he didn’t mind. He was used to much cold weather.

  Leaning against the railings and looking at the lights of London spread out beneath him, he took a sip from the bottle, enjoying the burn and trying not to think of anything. It didn’t work all that well.

  After what he had just witnessed, it was undeniable that Luke wasn’t just a passing fancy for Roman. It was obvious Roman had actual feelings for the boy. And yet, Vlad still couldn’t think of Roman as a faggot.

  Faggots are pathetic weaklings, not real men.

  His uncle’s words seemed ridiculous now. Roman Demidov was the opposite of a weakling. He was one of the most ruthless, strongest men Vlad had ever known. Vlad couldn’t think of him as weak and pathetic, as less of a man, only because Roman happened to have sex with a man.