At the end of the day, I’m spent.
Violence might be frowned upon by a bunch of ethical elites, but it’s actually the only method that manages to calm me down.
But that’s not exactly the case right now.
I should’ve stayed at the mansion and bugged Jeremy for another mission, to give myself something to do, but I found myself driving my Harley to the penthouse.
The moment I step out of the elevator, I sense something different.
No—I smell it or, more accurately, him. Clover, citrus, and a fucking conundrum.
Sure enough, Bran is sitting on the sofa, legs wide apart, elbows on his knees, and his fingers forming a steeple at his chin.
God-fucking-damn-it. He’s hot.
I can barely stop myself from reaching over and messing up his perfectly styled hair and put-together dark-blue polo shirt and khaki pants.
Mr. GQ reporting for fucking duty.
Upon seeing me, however, he doesn’t seem to be here for round two. His expression is calm and composed, but I can sense the waves of a malicious storm whirling beneath.
Still, I take an immense amount of pride in the fact that he let himself in for the second night in a row.
“I got you something.” He reaches into his pants and throws something at my chest.
I catch it and then frown. “A pack of condoms?”
“Figured you’d need it so you don’t give people STIs.”
“What…?”
He stands up with the same infuriating calm. “Good night, then.”
“Wait—”
The moment I touch his wrist, he whirls around fast and slams me against the wall with an elbow on my throat.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” he grits out, his lips so close to mine, he almost kisses me with every word.
I suppress a groan at how fucking sexy he looks when he’s enraged. I take a shit ton of pride in the fact that I’m the only one who sees this side of him—rugged at the edges and different from the golden-boy image he wears in public.
He’s perfect to the outside world but himself with me.
So what do I do? What I do best, of course.
Provoke him more.
“Are you mad about something, my lotus flower? Maybe a certain scene you saw earlier today?”
“Who the fuck do you think you are that I would notice you?”
“Oh, but you did.” My fingers dig into his nape. “It’s why you’re losing your precious control right now. Tell me, Bran, are you jealous?”
“Jealous? Over you? Not in this lifetime.”
“In that case, should I call Simon to join us? That’s his name, by the way, Simon. He’s gay and loves threesomes. Or maybe you can sit down and watch as I rail him.”
He lifts his fist and punches me in the face. Oh fuck. He’s really losing it, my Prince Charming.
More.
Give me more.
I grin up at him. “I take that as a no?”
“I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“Promises, promises.”
“Nikolai!”
“Yes, baby?”
“Don’t baby me. In fact, we’re done.” He releases me with a shove. “Go to your Simon.”
“No, fuck no.” I clutch him by the wrist, then shove the condoms back in his hand. “I’m clean, asshole. I wouldn’t have done that to you or anyone. In fact, I only fuck with condoms. Last night was the only exception.”
He faces me, his eyes dark and shining with rage. “Was Simon also an exception?”
“No. Besides, I haven’t been with anyone since the initiation.”
“No one?”
I shake my head. “What about you? Should we get you tested, considering the Clara situation?”
“I’m tested and clean. I haven’t had sex for…six months.”
Fuck me.
Holy fucking hell.
I knew he only got back with her just to mess with me. I knew he didn’t want her. I knew it.
My grin is wide as I stroke his nape. “Did I mention that you’re so adorable when you’re jealous?”
“Shut your fucking mouth, Nikolai.”
“As you wish, baby.” I press my lips to his, teasing at first, and then bite down and breach his mouth with a growl.
He puffs out a shuddering breath and I swallow it deep in my throat. Christ. It doesn’t matter how many times I kiss him. It always feels like it’s the first time.
His taste explodes in my mouth and I inhale him deep in my fucking lungs and keep him there.
He tastes of tea, citrus, and lust as fucked up as mine.
I push him toward the bedroom and we stumble inside, his fingers tugging on my hair, removing the band so he can mess it all up. I enjoy every spark of pain, every push and fucking pull.
He can shove me away all he wants, but I’ll trap him again.
Own him again.
Once we’re inside, I make quick work of removing his T-shirt and run my gaze over his smooth muscles that are only tainted by my marks. “You’re so hot, baby. I want to lick you up.”
He tugs my hoodie off, his fingers touching my chest, exploring my muscles. “I fucking hate you.”
“Mmm. Talk dirty to me.” I nibble on his bottom lip and drag his zipper down over his hard cock agonizingly slowly.
I torture him, reveling in every shudder and tormented sound that slips out of him.
Bran squeezes my dick through my pants, then loosens his fingers, slides his hand in, and fists my length, stroking me with a tight grip.
“Fuck, baby. Your hand feels so good.”
He leans over and whispers in my ear, “Better than Simon?”
“Better than anyone.” I fight the grin that’s rushing to the surface as I kiss his throat and suck on his Adam's apple. He hisses between his teeth and cocks his head to the side to give me better access.
I continue my way down, kissing, nibbling, and biting on his collarbone and nipples until he’s shaking, but he keeps stroking me with a firm grip.
Still feasting on one nipple, I pull out his cock, teasing the foreskin with my thumb until I find the opening, then push it against my crown and guide him to thrust me against his cock.
“Umph… Fuck,” he breathes out, his lips parted as my piercings dig into the pretty hole, and I fuck his cock with mine.
“That feel good, baby?”
He nods, but I don’t think he’s conscious of what he’s doing as he falls in rhythm with me. His lips find mine and he kisses me loudly. The wet, sucking sounds match the in-and-out of our precum mixing as we leak all over each other.
How can the asshole be so pliant when his body talks to mine? He acts as if I’m invisible outside, but when I’m touching him, kissing him, he’s all mine.
Mine for the taking.
Mine for the owning.
Fucking mine.
“I have to get inside you, baby.” I pull away and drag him toward the bed.
Bran doesn’t protest as I push him to a kneeling position in front of the bed, his chest on the mattress and his muscled ass in the air.
“Mmm. Stay like that.” I slap his ass cheek and I don’t miss the way he bites his lip as he follows my movement.