“Take it.” The growl vibrates through him, all the way, and I feel it in my mouth as he pushes deeper, holding me prisoner. I can do nothing as he fucks my mouth, already feeling the soreness at the back of my throat from his violent thrusts. Tears fall thick down my face, and I should be ashamed, planning his death, only I feel alive. Like a boat lost at sea, Remy is the lighthouse that shines its light on me. Maybe it's the thought of dying that thrills me or knowing Remy has broken me. He is breaking pieces of himself too, and when this is over, if I survive, I’ll sew us together like Frankenstein. Only I won’t question my existence like he did because mine is in front of me. All that damaged broken man is mine. He always has been.
I stare at him from the floor, covered in blood and cum. “Remy.” He freezes at his name, then unclasps my ankles. Standing he turns to me. “Finish yourself off.”
My hand goes to my cock, fisting it, but it's not the same. Not now I’ve had his touch again.
“Please,” falls from my lips like a last prayer.
“No.” The word cracks like a whip across my skin as his eyes stay on me.
“Sir, please.” The words stumble out, begging for something I know only he can give me.
At that word, he moves closer, his eyes turning from green to nearly black with desire.
“Master,” he whispers across my heated skin before grabbing my cock. It only takes a few hard tugs to find my release, my back arching, and a sharp roar leaving my lips. By the time I come back around, I’m alone. Already I miss my tormentor, my master.
Chapter Thirteen
Remy
I can’t get the look of Romeo's eyes out of my head; it keeps playing on loop. That desire, need and something deeper, rooted to my very soul. I walk into his office. What are you hiding?
I pull down all the books. Picking up a photo frame of him and his father, smashing it on the ground and using my boot to squash the glass. I wish I could get my hands around his neck. Be able to watch the last breath leave his body, but he’d already died when I had been accepted into the family as a soldier. He got an easy death in his sleep, something he never deserved. I sit down on the chair, pulling open drawers filled with properties the family owns and businesses, from bars to whore houses. There is also information and deals they have sealed with the other crime families. The bank statements with more numbers than I ever seen. There are also folders on all the men, including my own. I open it, smiling that not one person picked up that Dante Summers from Manchester had died twelve years ago. I had used everything from a man I met once at a bar and fooled one of the biggest crime families in London. All the technology they had and none of them knew they let the enemy walk right in. Like the trojan horse, I had entered the enemy grounds and won my war against the Russo’s.
I feel around, stopping when my fingers run over a small button, I press it. Another compartment drops down, lifting it out, I smile wondering what secrets this box holds.
I press in Romeo’s date of birth, only to be denied access. The light is just breaking the horizon as I’m still trying all different codes, when I stop, narrowing my eyes. Grabbing the box, I walk down the hall to the cell.
“What's the number?” Romeo doesn’t even stir, his breathing slow and peaceful. Unlocking the door, I walk in, kicking his foot, making him stir. He lifts his head, eyes still sleepy, hair sticking up and lip swollen, dried blood caked on his skin. “What’s the number?” His eyes shift to the box.
“No.” comes out more forceful than any word he has spoken since he came here.
“Tell me or I’ll take a finger.” He holds my gaze, full of defiance. “Fine, you had a choice.” I walk back to the office, grabbing the cigar clip as anger boils beneath the surface. He is still holding secrets. Those poisonous lips yelled my name earlier, and now they refuse me.
I walk back into the cell to watch Romeo stiffen. “Last chance,” I snarl, that defiance doesn’t fall from his eyes, so whatever is in this box, it's worth protecting.
“I said no,” he growls, standing.
Before he has a chance to make a move, I swing my fist hitting his jaw, but he comes back with one just as hard, catching my lip, and I taste blood, only this time it's mine. Like a panther, I pounce, coming with a right before two strong ones from the left. Romeo meets me punch for punch, until we land on the floor, fighting like two feral animals. He gets on top, slamming his fist into my face twice before I lock my legs around him, swinging us around and pinning him. We are evenly matched, but I learnt to fight in the street. I slam my fist into his mouth before holding down his one arm with my leg, immobilizing him. Grabbing his right hand, I see his father’s signet on his ring finger, and the black diamonds and red rubies mock me. I slide the clip on, so it's pressed against the signet, hate for its meaning causing my stomach to burn. A yell pierces the air as I blink, looking down to see the blood trickling down Romeo’s hand, the signet baring the family crest soaked in blood.
“Should have given me the number,” I hiss.
Standing, I watch as Romeo cradles
