by Daya Daniels
I slide my hand up the side of his neck, feeling his warmth.
“And Babbo?” His brows arch.
“Babbo is fine.” I pepper kisses along his jawline, inhaling the unique scent of his skin that I’ve missed so much.
“You still want to touch me?” The crack in his voice shatters my heart.
“Of course.” My hand drifts down his hard chest and doesn’t stop until it reaches his cock that’s already swollen. I shove two of my fingers into his mouth, admiring the shape of it, how his pouty lips wrap around them and leave them wet when they slide in and out.
“I love you, Ryker, so fucking much.” I press my forehead to his, nudging his nose with my own, feeling the wetness of his tears spill onto my cheeks. “I love you.” I squeeze his package, feeling the heft of his balls through his jeans. Then, my hand dives into them and slides along the length of his cock, already finding it dripping wet.
Ryker moans when I consume his mouth with my own in a vicious wet kiss.
He marches me backward.
The wall behind us stops the crash.
Scrambling, I undo his belt and his jeans fall around his knees. He presses me against the wall, peering down at me with his baby blues. He sucks my top lip into his mouth, slowly, just as his hand undoes the string at the waistband of my sweatpants.
I shudder when his hand wraps around my cock.
He smiles before his mouth slants over mine once more and his tongue dives deep, tasting me, consuming me, stealing every single one of my breaths away.
“I want to fuck you.” He takes my top lip between his teeth.
Grabbing at him, I pull him into another eager kiss. We move across the room bumping into shit, forcing chairs to scrape along the floor, kicking off sneakers and boots and then crash land onto the plastic-covered sofa. I’m seated in his lap with my sweatpants around my knees.
I pull my shirt off.
Ryker greets it all with a soft sigh.
His hand presses to the middle of my chest, guiding me into his own and pulls me into another soul-scorching kiss. His other hand slides down to my side then palms my ass cheek like he owns it, forcing me forward. I grind against his cock that’s soaked in precum.
I work it between my thighs, sliding my hand along the length of it.
“Fuck.” Ryker grips me hard by the hip.
I release him, remaining in a squat.
He works the wetness along his cock and bring the head to my asshole, teasing it, coating it in wetness, making it open and close in a beautiful invitation.
I perch perfectly over his dick, lowering my head, my mouth watering at the sight of his glorious cock standing at attention. Waiting.
Sweat trickles down the back of my neck and my chest is hot—inside and out. Heart pounding. Shaky legs. Wet lips. Horny as fuck.
I bounce in his lap.
Ryker hisses.
SLAP.
He delivers one to my left cheek then another to the right one.
I bite down on my bottom lip almost drawing blood.
He kneads into my flesh with eager fingers and pulls me down into his lap while he tugs on his dick, moaning.
The air crackles with pure lust.
I hover. He pulls. He yanks. I bounce.
The head of his cock, thick and wet, presses against my skin. I bite my lip and ease down on the monster slowly, panting, my own cock hanging hard between my legs, dripping all over the wooden floors at our feet.
Ryker’s thigh jumps. “God, yes.” His hands find my hips settling there as I take the length of him into my ass. It spreads me wide. It fills me up. I’m stuffed to the hilt with his thick hot cock.
I swallow hard just as a wail rips from me.
Placing a steadying hand on his knee, I move slow, up and down.
SLAP. SLAP. SLAP.
Ryker groans.
His cock twitches deep in my asshole.
I’m consumed. Ravaged. Utterly fucked into the next realm.
SLAP. SLAP. SLAP.
I ignore the relentless rhythm and focus on my breathing, the pounding of my heart and the sweat that trickles down my temples and along my neck to settle over my pecs.
Ryker’s hand connects with my left ass cheek.
Arching my back even more, I give him everything.
I bounce, bounce, bounce around like an out-of-control lottery ball.
A gasp leaves my mouth filling the quiet air.
Ryker moans. I cry out. I bounce my ass in his lap, giving him all my weight, loving every stroke and how it leaves me breathless as I slide along the length of it taking him in balls-deep.
Leaning forward, his hand slides along my neck as he yanks me into him, planting his lips to my mouth. “I’ve fucking missed you.”
I’ve missed you too.
RYKER
WITH A BREATH, I stretch out on the sticky plastic-covered sofa and keep my eyes on the delicious sight of my cock being swallowed.
Each rise and fall that Griffon makes on the monster causes my thighs to twitch, my stomach muscles to clench, and pained gasps to fall from my mouth.
He moans.
I groan.
I knead my fingers into his meaty flesh.
He picks up speed, pounding into my hips with his ass.
A strangled whine leaves me and when I catch sight of his hand working his cock between his thighs it only ratchets up my desire.
“Fuck.” He moves faster, quicker, harder.
My body is shoved deeper and deeper into the sofa with each rise and fall of his ass. My balls tighten. A growl explodes from me.
Griffon’s gray eyes land on me dusting me nothing but horny confusion.
My hand finds his shoulder.
He arches his back, spreading his thighs, tugging on his beautiful dick.
My cock stretches him out.
I’m buried deep inside him, taking everything that’s mine.
His lower back turns to granite and with an explosion of moans, his cum splatters the wooden floors. I fucking lose it! With a succession of grunts, I stiffen, almost throwing my own spine out of alignment with each pump I make with my hips into his tight, tight asshole when I fill it with my cum.
Griffon keeps his head low.
The mess dribbles from his tight passage and down the length of my cock settling at the base. He moves slowly, wringing out the last of my orgasm, milking my dick, making sure it receives every ounce of love he’s willing to give it.
I admire Griffon’s dark hair as it slips over my fingertips like silk. I’m in love with the sensation of his hot sweaty body against mine. I take a handful of his locks and encourage him to lean into me, his back to my chest. With a breath, he slumps against me, boneless and sated…just as I am.
I press my lips to his neck and breathe in the unique scent of his skin which I’ve missed so fucking much.
He eases off my cock slowly and then twists around to face me.
I hate that my eyes are watery.
I’ll pass it off as due to exertion, but deep down Griffon must know it’s for another reason.
“I didn’t think you’d ever come back to me.” I swallow.
He cups my cheek with his hand. “Why would you think that?”
With my head low, I shake it. “Because I’m fucked up. I’m so fucking fucked up, Griffon.”
He smiles and dusts me with an adoring look that almost kills me.
Then, I look around this cozy apartment remembering how I first felt when I picked it out. I could think of nothing more than how this place would look once it was filled with our things.
I want Griffon here with me.
I want this place to be our new home.
Without him here, it’s empty.
Without him…I am empty.
He’s the first boy I’ve ever loved, and he will be the last.
“I love you.” He kisses my lips softly and then he goes deeper, stealing all my secrets. He takes my left arm in his hand and runs his fingers over the bandages th
ere.
“I’m going to stop, I promise.” It’s the truth on my lips.
He nods. He doesn’t criticize or deball me for something I hate myself for doing. He only nods. Then, he kisses there, where it hurts.
“I love you, Ryker.” He pulls me close.
I nod and weep into his shoulder.
“I love you. I love you. I love you.” He kisses me once more. “I love you so much it hurts like fucking hell.” With misty eyes, he grins.
“I’ve sold my soul,” I whisper. “You own it, Griffon Luca Russo.”
“Well, consider me the devil then.” His lips slam into mine fierce-as-fuck.
CHAPTER TEN
RYKER
I AWAKE IN THE morning to the sunlight creeping in through the skylight above.
The ceilings above me are washed in white and crossing them are huge iron beams. I guess they kept the original ones from when this building used to be a cotton warehouse back in the 1920s.
The walls are all red stone. The windows are large, and the floors are ebony hardwood throughout this six-thousand-square-foot space. A few vases filled with fresh white roses dot the apartment throughout just as I had requested, and artwork adorns the walls. Some pieces are familiar but a few I’ve never seen before.
The large space smells of fresh with hints of vanilla that perk your senses.
It’s all perfect and now everything I’ve ever cared about occupies it.
Twisting in the white linens that surround me, I find Griffon sprawled out next to me and Elsa in bed curled up near his foot. She’s a tiny ball of brown fur in the fluffy bleach-white linens.
So fucking cute.
As soon as she spots I’m awake, her tail is already swishing from side to side and she’s hopping over the lumpy comforter. Then, she’s in my face, kissing me all over. I snatch her up in my arms, sit up and look around.
“Worth the Fight” by Broods sounds softly from the iPod dock on the nightstand that’s come alive. It’s supposed to be an alarm but the clock on the other side of the wall tells me it’s getting up to eleven o’clock in the morning. Crazy that we’ve slept this late without noticing it.
Griffon’s chest rises and falls with each breath he takes. His face is mushed into the pillow and his ass looks perfect in the white cotton briefs he’s wearing.
I run my hand over the heart tattooed on his wrist and then look at my own which are covered up with bandages. I exhale and think about how scarred I am. And not just on the outside.
Griffon’s eyes pop open. “This is perfect.”
I laugh a bit. “Yes, it is.”
“This isn’t like being squeezed together in my single bed.” He scrubs Elsa’s head.
“No, it isn’t.” I laugh.
I snuggle up next to him, pulling him into me with Elsa in between.
Our little family…
“Happy Birthday.”
“Thank you,” Griffon whispers. “Breakfast?”
“Of course.” I kiss his temple. “But shouldn’t I be making you breakfast?”
“How’s eggs sunny side up and maple bacon on the side?” Griffon smirks.
I scrunch my face. “Do we even have that in the fridge?”
“Yes and no, it’s fine, I’ll make it.”
“Oh.” I chuckle when I realize I have no clue what’s really in there. “Wait a second…How do you even know what’s in there?”
Griffon laughs. “I’m observant, I guess.”
My eyes drift over to the large dresser across the room, above it is the flat-screen TV I’ve never clicked on. Grabbing the remote, I point it to the screen and wait for it to come to life.
As soon as it does, I remain fixed on the ticker moving across the bottom of it.
It reads: Business magnate, financier, and philanthropist Francis Barnaby Benedict found dead in an apparent suicide.
The woman on the screen offers up her heartfelt condolences to my family and then goes on with a whole lot of horseshit about how Francis contributed so much to the city of New York and how he will be missed.
Griffon remains fixed on the screen, expressionless, while I stroke his hair. “Are you sad he’s dead?”
“No, I’m relieved.”
His gray eyes find mine.
We rest for another minute and listen to the rest of the news bulletin and then when it’s over, I shut off the TV.
Griffon crawls out of bed and makes his way toward the shower. “Soap and then food.” He winks.
Resting back on the pillow, I accept I won’t ever get tired of watching this dude saunter away from me in his sexy underpants.
So fucking hot.
GRIFFON
IT’S A PERFECT MORNING…
The aroma of Colombian coffee beans fills the kitchen along with the rich aroma of sausages and eggs. The toaster dings and out pops two beautifully toasted bagels.
Ben Howard’s “Time Is Dancing” echoes from the stereo.
I dance across the kitchen wrangling with the heat they bring to my fingertips. I drop one on each plate with the rest of the food, then slather them both with cream cheese.
So bad.
But this will taste so, so good.
Ryker rushes around the apartment doing way too many things for the morning hour. He tinkers with appliances figuring out how they work. He pulls out towels. He stares at the to-do list his cleaning man, Tony, has stuck to the Sub-Zero and writes more things down on the list.
I smile at the sight of him.
He’s really loving having his own place.
Sorry, “our” own place as he’d stressed only a moment ago.
“Breakfast is ready.” I pull off the apron around my waist and fling it over one of the stools to the center island.
Everything couldn’t be more wonderful.
“Okay,” Ryker calls out.
Elsa is already in front of her bowl chowing down on the most expensive dog food that must be available in New York City.
I take a few sips of my coffee and think about everything that has happened. Mainly, I think about how Babbo had packed all of Giulia’s things away while I helped. We chowed down on chicken cacciatore before he settled in front of the TV in the living room. He told me he was even thinking about taking some lady he met on a job he had accepted out on a date. I told him I thought it was all a great idea. Then, I went for the longest run in history.
I thought about a lot last night.
I ruminated about what was most important to me. I thought about my future and my constant battle with staying clean which seems to be made much easier when Ryker, my love, is in my life. I considered how sometimes even the strongest people have their weak moments. Even me.
But mostly, I thought about the sight of a helpless boy.
I wasn’t sure if it was him or I who I saw in that moment.
Maybe I simply saw us.
Ryker moves around the apartment, dashing and rushing everywhere.
A smile touches my lips at how he looks with his hair still damp from the shower and dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans without a belt, so they hang a bit loose around his hips. His beautiful bare feet are on display and his smile is just as white and hot as it was the first day I met him.
When I became addicted to him.
When he became my drug.
My craving for him now is no different than it was then.
I’ll never stop wanting his lips all over me.
I’ll never stop wanting our hearts to touch, to beat, to thrive. Or our lives together to ever stop.
I love him. I love him. I love him.
He-is-my-everything.
RYKER
GRIFFON SMILES JUST AS he taps on the edge of the countertop, waiting.
I tidy up as best I can, glancing at the mess in the living room.
Elsa is chasing a tennis ball.
It seems as though it’ll be keeping her busy for quite a while.
I pile everything up in the laundry basket and pause jus
t before I make my way out of the living room.
Griffon hums along to the music coming from the radio. “It’s ready, Ryker.”
“Okay.” My breaths are heavy as I rush across the room.
Picking up the last item, I freeze.
My brows crash together as I examine what’s in my hands.
I run my fingers over the soft cotton bringing it to my nose once, twice, three times, just to be sure. I spread the hoodie open examining the words across the front of it which read: LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE. Definitely Griffon’s…
Griffon keeps his eyes on me.
The music dips and lowers to a haunting sound.
My heart beats, beats, beats.
And then nothing.
The melody explodes and lifts into a crescendo.
I manage a weak smile, so fucking baffled.
Lifting the cotton material to my nose, I breathe in again just as my stomach liquefies and I threaten to throw up all over this fucking thing.
A familiar sickening scent.
French toast.
Cedar.
On Griffon’s hoodie.
I stand, motionless.
Griffon’s stone grays connect with mine across the room.
Slowly, I drop the hoodie in the laundry basket.
He only blinks when he eases down onto the stool.
I blink too.
He drops cubes of sugar into the coffee cups—four altogether. Two in each cup. They fall with a SPLOOSH.
I’m not sure what transpires in that exchange, but I find myself heading across the room toward the washing machine that’s already filling with water. I dump the contents of the basket I’m holding into it. Everything slips from my hands like bad memories I just want to wash away. Once it’s all in, I shut the lid and the cycle starts.
Griffon is still watching me.
My eyes narrow.
Have you ever been afraid of yourself?
It all seems to happen in slow motion.
Yes, I’m afraid of myself.
The clock on the wall ticks.
I guess I always worry about what I might be capable of.
The air crackles. The morning light shines down on my skin from the skylight above. My heart thumps slow and steady, never missing one beat…