"You top?"
"Yeah," I said, shouting over the booming bass of a Megan Thee Stallion track.
The guy smiled, signaling the bartender for another round of tequila shots. His bedroom eyes said it all—this wasn't just about a casual fuck; he wanted a night of slow, drawn-out lovemaking. His fingertips traced the intricate patterns of my veins like they were lines on a map.
As the bartender slid over the shots, he picked one up and drank, then his lips met mine, hot liquor transferring between us. Tequila dribbled from the corners of our mouths, mingling with a heated, sloppy kiss.
For a second, Elio flashed in my mind. That fucking bastard. I bit the guy's lip, hard. He'd told me his name earlier, but I didn't care. I just wanted to fuck—or be fucked.
"Enjoying yourself, Mr. Jensen?" Elio's calm, cool voice made me grunt into the kiss.
I ignored him, grabbing another shot. The guy I was with looked at me and asked if I knew Elio.
"No," I said, slamming the shot glass on the bar. Elio stood in front of us, sipping his drink. I was Elio Bianchi's bitch. Best way to put it. My ass for my father's treatments.
"Why the fuck are you here, Elio?" I finally asked.
He shrugged, glancing around the club before his gaze landed back on me. "You didn't answer my calls," he said. "So, I came to find you."
I didn't ask how he knew where I was. Elio had eyes and ears everywhere when it came to me.
"You ready to fuck?" I asked, pulling a condom from my pocket. We pushed past Elio toward the restroom. The guy asked if we could go somewhere cleaner, like a hotel. I didn't care. I just wanted a quick nut.
His complaining stopped the second I got on my knees on the grimy restroom floor. I tore open the condom with my teeth and slipped it on his dick. He wasn't Elio, but he'd do.
In a place like this, gay sex in a restroom wasn't exactly out of place. People would walk in and mind their own business, even if you were getting bent over the sink. Maybe it was the exhibitionist in me—sex with a stranger I'd never see again was a kind of freedom.
"Mind if I watch you two?"
Over the muffled music and running water, Elio's voice cut through. I didn't see him at first until he squatted down next to me as I deep-throated this guy's dick.
His hand rested on the back of my neck, thumb stroking the side gently. He whispered something in Italian—slick-sounding, but I couldn't understand.
I moaned around the guy's cock when Elio palmed me through my jeans. He was teasing, making me crave more than just his hand. My thoughts drifted to the sex I'd had with Elio—how it could be angry and rough, or gentle and passionate. Sometimes, both.
"I think that's enough," Elio said, shooting the guy a look that sent him scrambling. His dick popped from my mouth as he stuffed it back into his pants, rushing out of the restroom, bumping into people on the way.
Elio's gaze burned into me, making me want to run. But before I could think, he had me pinned against the wall, his hand around my throat. I could feel his angry heart beating against mine, his breath hot on my skin.
"You mad 'cause I sucked another guy's dick?" I laughed in his face. Bold move.
"I thought we had an agreement," he growled, his voice like low thunder.
"We do," I said. "I fuck who I want, you fuck who you want. That's the deal. Is there a problem now?"
He smiled, tightening his grip around my throat. "No problem at all," Elio said, his fingers pressing into my skin, nails grazing me just enough to sting.
There was fire in his eyes, and I knew if I kept pushing, I'd get burned.
"Then let me go."
Instead, he pressed his body into mine, like he wanted us to melt together. His kisses trailed along my jawline, soft, tender. His hard dick pressed into my crotch, and when he bit my earlobe, I moaned, grinding against him. I wanted him, needed him, but I wouldn't beg. Not this time.
"I think I want to change the agreement," he said.
"What for?"
Elio didn't answer right away. He kissed me again, greedy, possessive, his tongue plunging into my mouth. I could taste the expensive whiskey he'd been drinking, the kind that's flown in from overseas.
When he finally pulled away, I was breathless, already craving more. The pressure of his hand on my neck made me almost come in my jeans.
"I want to keep you," he said, voice low. "Have you all to myself. So you won't fuck who you want anymore."
I raised a brow. "And if I don't agree?"
"You will," he said, a dark glint in his eyes. "If I tell you to."
Why did I think I had a say in this? From the moment I entered Elio Bianchi's world, I was his. Somewhere between lust and desperation, I'd accepted that.
"You act like you own me."
"I do," he replied. "The moment you laid in my bed, you became mine."
"Funny," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Cause you drugged and raped me."
I didn't remember much from that first night months ago. One drink and everything after was a blur. When I woke up, my head was pounding, cum and blood leaking from me.
"So?" His gaze was unflinching.
I slapped his hand away and shoved past him, but he grabbed me, slamming me into the wall. The impact knocked the breath from me. We stood there, a tense silence hanging between us. The club's music pounded through the thin walls.
Elio looked down at his hand gripping my arm and loosened it. His face softened for a brief second as he muttered something in Italian.
"Sorry," he said, like a scolded child.
I wasn't sure what he was apologizing for.
Straightening up, he regained his usual imposing demeanor. "I have a job for you tomorrow morning. A pickup at the border. Some of my men will be with you. Just to keep an eye on things."
Before he left, he kissed me—his hand slid to the small of my back, sending a shiver through me. There was something else in that kiss. Something almost vulnerable. As if he was saying, I need you, Everest.
Author's Note:
Just revising some chapters because I hate my writing lol.
If you want, you can follow me on IG at Eliza_Ann_B
