by Alessa Thorn
Izabella made a soft sound, her pink tongue wetting her bottom lip, and the desire to fuck her mouth hit Silas so hard, he came over his hand. Izabella let out a shuddery breath before turning and walking quickly from the bathroom.
In a strange kind of daze, Silas cleaned himself off before he was hit with the reality of what had just happened.
He gripped the sides of the sink, the orgasm doing nothing to calm the roaring in his head. It was worse. She had stood there and watched him get off. And then walked away.
“Like fuck I’m going to pretend that didn’t happen,” Silas growled and went after her.
6
Iz hurried to her room, her hand pressing to the ache between her legs before she kicked the door shut.
She hadn’t even heard Silas in the bathroom when she had opened the door. She hadn’t thought he was in the apartment.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Iz could barely breathe as she popped the buttons of her jeans, slipping her hands into her panties. She was so wet, her fingers slid over her clit, and she moaned, collapsing on her bed.
Silas had just stood there, stroking that big, gorgeous cock of his. She should’ve done something—anything—but stand there like a mute idiot. Watching him get off while staring at her, his eyes heavy and burning emerald… Izabella trembled, fingers stroking her pussy.
“Hey, we need to talk,” Silas’s husky voice came through the door.
“No. Go away,” she panted, touching herself harder and thinking about his fingers inside her.
There was a heavy silence from the other side of the door. “You making yourself feel good in there?” he asked, voice dropping an octave.
“Yes,” she gasped, unable to stop herself from answering.
Silas came through the door, looked down at her on the bed, fingering herself while thinking about him. “You want some help with that?”
Iz stopped breathing. “W-what?”
“Yes or no,” he said, frustration turning his eyes dark.
“Yes?”
Silas gently pulled her hand from her jeans and kissed her wet fingers. He let out a soft, strangled groan before his strong hands gripped the waistband of her jeans and panties, pulling both of them off in one hard tug.
Iz’s hand went to cover herself up, but he caught her by the wrist to stop her, hissing in warning. She stilled, unable to move.
She reminded herself this wasn’t some random guy she had to be wary of hurting her; this was Silas. And he wanted her.
Iz relaxed back and let him look as much as he wanted, his eyes turning the darkest green she had ever seen.
Silas’s eyes roamed over her curved belly, the tattoos on her hips, and finally, on her now throbbing pussy.
He pulled her to the edge of the bed and dropped to his knees. Iz’s legs trembled, and Silas pressed a soft kiss to her inner thigh.
She hadn’t allowed anyone to touch her so intimately since her captivity. She had tried but had frozen up each time, unable to get out of her own head and enjoy herself. She didn’t want to do that to Silas, didn’t want him to think that there was something wrong with him or what he was doing…
“Relax, Izabella. I’m going to make you feel so fucking good,” he promised, his large, calloused hands running over her hips in firm, comforting strokes.
Iz could only nod and try to breathe. Silas wasn’t in any hurry as he kissed and gently nipped his way up one thigh, his eyes watching every emotion flickering on her face as she tried to hold in her whimpers.
“Undo your shirt,” he commanded, and her hands hurried to obey without a thought. When he used that boss tone on her, she would do anything he asked her. Maybe it was what she needed.
“God, your breasts are so beautiful. Do you like them being touched?” Silas asked. Iz flushed hot, trying to get her tongue to work. She jumped as Silas bit her thigh. “Answer me.”
“Yes,” she replied.
“Then touch them.”
Iz’s hands moved to comply, her fingers tightening on the lace, massaging them roughly the way she liked. Silas made another sound of approval.
“That’s so good, don’t stop. Fuck, you are so hot, Izabella. I could come just watching you right now.”
Iz didn’t know why his words got to her, but she felt like she had pleased him in some way, and it filled her with… Her brain went blank with the first hot lick of Silas’s tongue. She bit down her moan as his stubble brushed against her, making her nerves tingle.
“Oh, fuck, Jefe,” she gasped, her hips moving to meet his mouth. He hummed his approval, the vibration on her clit making her grip her breasts hard enough to hurt.
Silas’s hands went underneath her to her ass, lifting her higher, exposing more of her as he tasted her everywhere. His tongue probed her entrance, and her body trembled, eyes going back in her head.
She was drowning in sensation, aching under his tongue and lips. Warm heat was building in her pelvis, each ardent caress pushing her release closer.
Silas is doing this. Silas. Fuck. She couldn’t believe it. She didn’t want it to end.
“Do you want more?” he asked. When she didn’t reply, Silas blew gently on her sensitive skin, and she whimpered.
“Yes. I’m so close,” she begged, uncaring of how pathetic and needy she sounded.
Silas flicked his tongue over her clit and pressed one of his fingers inside her. Iz’s back arched, curses and pleads tumbling from her lips, her hips moving automatically to fuck his finger.
God, it felt incredible. He always felt so good to her, no matter what he did or where he touched. She wanted him wrapped around her, inside of her, and a part of her until she couldn’t take it anymore.
Silas’s lips seemed to know exactly where she was most sensitive, his tongue and finger working to break her. Her fingers threaded into his hair, holding him tight to her as she came undone.
“Come for me, I want to taste it,” Silas growled, adding another finger.
Iz cried out in Spanish, a babble of words and oaths. Heat exploded through her, light blazing across her vision, her orgasm burning her veins to ash.
Silas kissed along her belly and gently removed his fingers from her. She instantly felt empty, wanting him back inside her. She made a noise of protest, her legs tightening around his back, trying to hold him to her.
He chuckled softly. “You’re going to choke the air out of me if you hold me any tighter.”
Iz still didn’t let him go, her hands stroking through his hair, emotion building behind her eyes.
Fuck, she would not be the person who cried from a head job, no matter how good it was.
“Talk to me,” he said gently, hand reaching up to brush her cheek.
“I… don’t know what to say,” she admitted.
Out in the hall, the front door rattled. Both of them seemed to jump at once, Iz letting Silas go. He moved fast, slipping out of her door and shutting it with a soft click.
In the fading light, Iz stared at the ceiling, her heart beating way too hard, her mind trying to reconcile what the fuck she had done.
Iz woke to someone tapping loudly on her door. She groaned and sat up. “Silas?”
“Ah, no, it’s Dante, the more handsome man you live with. I just wanted to make sure you were still alive in there,” he said through the wood.
“Yeah, I’m up. I’m…fuck what time is it?”
Dante laughed. “Midday. That’s why I was worried. You don’t sleep late. I’ll get the coffee going.”
“Thanks.” Iz looked at her phone and the string of messages from Athena she had missed. It was 12:30 p.m. She never slept that late.
She had been meaning to get out of bed after she had gotten herself together the previous evening and instead had drifted off in post-orgasm bliss. Silas had put her into a damn sex coma from one head job.
“Hijo de puta,” she murmured. She was still in her shirt from the day before, her make-up, and no pants.
She laughed helplessly, stripped off, an
d pulled on her kimono. Her face was a fright, so she grabbed her make-up wipes and scrubbed off her panda eyes.
She needed to get her coffee and have a long hot shower. She needed to talk to Silas more, and hopefully, he wouldn’t be weird about what happened. Iz tried to ignore the flutter of worry and anticipation in her belly.
He came into your room. He’s got nothing to feel weird about, even if it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.
Silas Edgeworth didn’t do shit that was spur of the moment. He was a planner, which meant he had been thinking about going down on her for a while. Heat flushed straight to her ovaries at the thought.
Saints and ancestors have mercy. Silas and his perfect dick weren’t safe to think about before caffeine.
Dante was pouring freshly brewed coffee in the kitchen and adding her sugar. He really must’ve been worried.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he teased, passing her the cup. “Sleep well, did you?”
“Like the dead. Must’ve been catching up for all the shitty nights I’ve been having,” she said with a yawn. He poured his own cup and studied her. “What?”
“Nothing. Just want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all.”
Iz rolled her eyes. “Don’t fuss, Hill. Where’s the boss?”
“Athens.”
“What?” Iz jerked, spilling her coffee on the counter. “What is he doing in fucking Athens?”
Dante shrugged. “Something for Julian. Why?”
“Nothing. It’s just unlike him not to say goodbye, that’s all,” she said, trying not to sound upset. He had left without a word…
Dante scoffed. “Actually, Iz, it is like him. He just always says goodbye to you because you get special treatment.”
“Yeah, sure I do.” Iz needed to change the subject so she didn’t tell Dante what had happened the night before. She could always text Silas later if she had her brave pants on.
The thought of her phone prompted her brain, and she asked, “I had a bunch of messages from Athena, but I didn’t read them. What’s going on today?”
“Not much. She wants us over at the warehouse to talk about her plan.”
Iz blinked. “What plan?”
“She wants to go back to Pokrovskoye,” he replied with a frown.
“What the hell? No wonder Silas took off from the warehouse yesterday like a thunder cloud.”
“Yeah, he was pissed and needed to walk away to calm down.”
Iz rubbed at her cheek, willing her brain to wake up and focus on Athena and not whatever was up with Silas.
“Okay, well, Pokrovskoye is Leo’s pet project, so we should go and pick him up before we head over.”
“I can do that and meet you there. You can have a shower and get yourself together, sleeping beauty,” Dante replied.
“Are you sure? You said Leo wouldn’t open the door for you,” Iz argued.
“You know what they say. When God closes the door, She opens a window.” Dante’s mouth lifted into his mischievous smile. “And if the window isn’t open, I’ll just pick the lock.”
7
Dante’s leg bounced irritably the whole taxi ride to Leo’s building in Ayakapı. He tapped his phone in his palm, wondering for the hundredth time if he should message him again.
Not like he’s answered any of the others you’ve sent.
Not even one smiling emoji for any of the hilarious animal videos he sent daily.
Silas thought that Leo needed time to process, but it was more than that. Dante knew trauma hiding when he saw it. He had done three months of it when Silas had pulled him half dead out of his fucked up job.
Nothing had worked until he had turned up at Silas’s and asked to be in his crew. He had felt powerless that all of his training hadn’t meant shit. That he hadn’t been strong enough to fight his way out of that clusterfuck. Silas patiently re-trained him and took him out on easy jobs until his confidence returned.
Dante was more than willing to do the same for Leo if only he would let him. It was partly his fault that he was fucked up after all.
It didn’t matter what anyone said. Guilt gnawed a bloody hole in Dante’s gut over what had happened to Leo, and it wouldn’t go away until he made amends.
Dante knocked on Leo’s door for a full five minutes before giving up on being polite. He took the lock picks from his pocket and went to work on the door.
He had never been inside the apartment and was surprised to find how messy it was. Clothes and gear were scattered over furniture, and the kitchen counter was covered with takeout bags and empty cans of energy drinks. He smiled when he recognized a few of the food bags he had left for him. At least he was eating.
“Leo?” he called. No reply. “Leo? You better not scream when I find you…”
Dante was starting to think Leo might have been out when a soft snore came from the direction of the couch. He grinned, ready to jump on him to wake him up, but stopped himself at the last second.
Asleep, face down on the couch in nothing but a pair of tight, black boxer briefs, Leo was a long stretch of olive skin and lean muscles. His black curls were a tumbled mess, glasses smudged and half hanging off his face. He was adorable and sexy at the same time.
Keep your game face on, Hill. The pep talk didn’t work. Dante took the opportunity and looked his fill.
There had been two occasions Dante had the chance to see Leo without a shirt. One was during yoga on the roof when he had done his best not to look too close, and the other was when Leo had been covered in gold paint and terrified out of his mind.
Neither time had given Dante a chance to study the tattoo on Leo’s back. It was an intricate gray and black sacred heart, twisted up with thorns, vines, and flowers. Amongst the blooms were a myriad of smaller tats of winged lions, daggers, roman numerals, broken marble columns, code… Dante bit his bottom lip, fighting the desire to lean closer to try and map it all. He shook himself.
Dante needed to wake Leo up gently without totally freaking him out, so he ran the knuckle of his index finger slowly down his spine.
“Hey, Leonardo…” he whispered. Leo’s dark brown eyes snapped open, and suddenly a gun was in Dante’s face. He put his hands up. “Woah, boy. It’s just me.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Leo groaned, putting the gun down on the coffee table and rolling back, face down on the cushions.
“What the fuck are you doing sleeping on a 9 mm? You want to shoot that pretty face off?” Dante countered, his heartbeat trying to go back to normal. “Do you even know how to use it?”
“Don’t need to know when you’re hovering over me,” came the mumbled reply. “Go away. I’m sleeping.”
“Nap time’s over. We need you over at the warehouse, and Kon asked me to come and get you.” It was only a slight lie. Athena had asked, but it was kind of the same thing. Leo mumbled something in Italian at him.
“Yeah, I know I’m the most handsome man you’ve ever woken up to. Thank you for saying it though. My ego appreciates it,” Dante replied.
Leo lifted his head to glare at him. “That’s not what I said.”
“Sure sounded like it.”
“You don’t even speak Italian.”
“And you don’t know how to clean up after yourself.” Dante clapped his hands. “Come on, get your perky ass up.”
Leo put his head back down. “I’ll be there in an hour. Go away.”
“What’s the matter? You drunk or something?”
Leo shoved his glasses up into his hair and rubbed at his eyes. “I’m not hungover. I’m tired. I was up hacking for a few…days, I think. I got into a groove, and I don’t sleep much anyway.”
“Probably all of the energy drinks and coffee. Or is it nightmares? Don’t glare at me like that. We all have them,” Dante said. Leo turned his face away, so he didn’t see Dante carefully move his handgun out of reach. “Last chance to get into that shower willingly, da Vinci.”
“Or what?” he grumbled.
Dant
e grabbed him around the waist and lifted him off the couch. Leo hissed, swiping out at him haphazardly. Dante caught his arms, pinned them behind his back, and held him up against the wall face first. Leo let out a long string of Italian profanity at him.
“You done, Van Damme?” Dante demanded. He leaned in and blew on Leo’s ear playfully. “I don’t mind having another round, bello. Loser gets to wash the winner’s back.”
“Let me go. Now,” Leo growled.
Dante released him and stepped out of reach. “Shame, you could do with my soaping skills.”
“Fuck off, Dante.”
“Nope. I’m a delivery boy today. Now get moving unless you want me to help you get all those hard-to-reach places.”
Leo glared at him before stalking toward the bathroom, the skin on his sides and back turning red from Dante’s manhandling. Dante’s dick hardened at the idea of his marks all over the beautiful, pouting Italian.
“Cut it out,” he muttered at his groin. Leo was traumatized enough without Dante getting an awkward boner every time he glared at him.
When the shower turned on, Dante went into the kitchen and started dumping the takeout containers and cans into the bin and tidied up. He needed to do something with his hands so he didn’t think about running them down Leo’s lean muscles.
Dante made two espressos and sipped one while messaging Athena: Grabbing Leo. Can you organize some food? He just woke up and needs it.
Aren’t you the good mother hen?
Shut up, Cub. Just do it. He’s been up researching your garbage fire of a past after all.
Cluck cluck cluck came the reply with a string of chicken emojis.
Dante was still muttering when the bathroom door opened, and Leo came out with a towel slung around his hips.
Dante tried not to stare—he really did—but he had never been great at self-control. He liked how Leo was put together, especially when gleaming with water.
Leo had another gray tattoo on his sternum of a lion’s head, and he had a lovely amount of fine dark chest hair that trailed pleasantly down to his towel.
