Chapter 8

For a moment, Dinara looked almost frightened but maybe it was the distant firelight throwing dim shadows across her face. It was difficult to make out details so far away from the only light source.

Dinara’s red lips pulled into a daring smile that went straight to my dick. “I thought you didn’t mix business and pleasure?” Her voice was throaty and breathless. My heart was pounding in my chest and my cock was already pressing uncomfortably against my jeans. I hadn’t felt a desire this strong in… ever.

“I don’t. Usually.”

It wouldn’t be the first rule I broke. I had a long history of things I shouldn’t do. Dinara seemed a good reason to add another one to the list.

I took out the cigarette package from my back pocket. “What about you? Do you mix business and pleasure?”

Dinara didn’t say anything. The fall and rise of her chest were unmistakable even in the dim light streaming from the distant fireplace, our only light source. We were so far out and away from civilization that the darkness was almost impenetrable outside of camp. The headlights of the surrounding cars had all been shut off when their owners had gone to sleep or joined the campfire. Dinara pulled out a joint, her fingers shaking. I couldn’t interpret her physical reaction to our kiss.

She lit up the joint and put it in her mouth, causing my mind to create more explicit associations. It glowed brightly as she sucked in a deep breath. After another drag, she handed the joint to me and I took a deep inhale, feeling its effects hum in my veins. I dropped my cigarette packet on the hood for an after-sex-smoke I’d hopefully require. Sex and drugs had been my favorite combination for a while. “You didn’t answer my question. Or why did you pull back? I had a feeling you enjoyed the kiss more than a little.” Her nipples had been rock-hard and eager for attention when I’d touched them.

Dinara leaned closer and pressed her palm against the bulge in my pants, making me hiss. “I think you enjoyed it even more.” I resisted the urge to reach into her pants, even if I knew I’d find her sopping wet, ready to be fucked.

“I did, which is why I don’t see why we stopped.”

“Because I like things to go by my rules,” Dinara said cryptically and hopped off the hood. I thought she’d leave but instead she grabbed my hand and dragged me toward my car, which was even further outside of camp and cloaked in darkness. I followed her and let her push me against the hood of my car. Her face hovered right before mine, her breathing fast and sweet. “What—”

She pressed a finger against my lips, shutting me up.

Dinara reached down and unbuckled my belt with a soft cling, too loud in the starry night. Nothing stirred around us but Dinara didn’t seem concerned about getting caught anyway as she pulled down my zipper. I removed the joint from my lips and leaned down to kiss her but she turned her head away. “No kissing.”

I bit back my questions, worried I’d stop her from continuing whatever she had in mind. My cock was already eager for her next move. She snagged the joint from my fingers and took a deep drag before she slid it back between my lips. Her hands trailed down my chest and she sank down to her knees, taking me completely off-guard. She tugged at my boxers and jeans until my cock sprang free. I couldn’t stop staring at the crown of her head so close to my leaking tip.

Her warm fingers curled around my shaft before she took my tip into her hot, wet mouth. I hissed past the joint then sucked in a deep gust of the smoke as Dinara took me deeper into her mouth until my tip hit the back of her throat. She gagged but didn’t retreat. “Fuck,” I pressed out. I touched the back of her head but she swatted my hand away and slowly slid my cock back out of her mouth. “No touching. Hands on the hood if you want me to keep blowing you. My rules, not yours. Remember.”

I put my palms flat on the car and peered down at Dinara’s head moving back and forth as she sucked me. Her tongue circled my tip languidly, licking up my pre-cum. I wished I could see more of her than the scheme of her head. I wanted to see her gorgeous red lips around my tip as she sucked it. This felt like a dream. But even my best drug-induced hallucinations hadn’t been anywhere as good as this.

Fuck, her lips on my cock felt like paradise. I moaned when Dinara started massaging my balls as she worked only my tip with her lips and tongue. When she started massaging the sensitive area behind my balls, pleasure radiated through my body and my balls started to tighten. I wouldn’t be able to hold out long if she kept it up. I’d been fantasizing about her too long and wasn’t prepared for this surprise blowjob.

She pulled her head back, smacking her lips.

I groaned. “I’m close.”

Dinara gripped my hips and rose to her feet. In the dim light, the curl of her lips mocked me. “I know, Adamo.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Even a Falcone needs to learn patience.”

She took a step back. I was frozen, my balls still pulsating, my cock desperate to spurt out a load. With a last smile, she turned around and walked off. I stared at the sway of her hips until her body merged with the shadows and she was swallowed by the dark.

The inside lighting of her car flared up, illuminating Dinara, a tantalizing sight that now taunted me. She slipped into the backseat and before she closed the door, she glanced back at me, then the darkness absorbed her again.

I hadn’t been left hanging, or rather standing since my first sort-off-girlfriend Harper many years ago. Fuck, she was toying with me. Blood still filled my cock. I was too fucking turned on to hope my erection would disappear any time soon.I clutched my cock angrily and rubbed hard, almost painfully. If someone came by, they’d get a show they wouldn’t soon forget.

It didn’t take long for me to shoot out my load all across the dusty ground. I shoved my dick back in and zipped up my pants before I kicked dirt over the spot where I suspected my cum had landed. I reached for the cigarette package on the hood but touched cold metal. “Fuck,” I growled. Not only had Dinara left me standing here with a fucking boner, she’d also stolen my cigarettes. I was done handling her with kid gloves. In the next race, she’d get to know the real Adamo Falcone on the race track, and next time she’d be the one with a dripping pussy.

My spine tingled with animal fear as I turned my back on Adamo, my muscles taut with anticipation, ready to take flight or fight. It wasn’t that I expected Adamo to rush after me, grab me and force me to finish what I’d started, but my body preferred to expect the worst. That way people had a hard time catching you off-guard. No steps rang out, nor did Adamo call me nasty names.

I meandered my way past the other race cars until I reached my Toyota. I opened the door, then I couldn’t resist to risk a glance over my shoulder at the man I’d left with a raging hard-on. Adamo, too, was looking my way. Even in the dim light I could tell that he hadn’t bothered closing his pants yet.

I didn’t think it would be this difficult to walk away from Adamo, from sucking his dick no less, but I’d enjoyed the play of power, had gotten high on it. If there was one thing I had trouble resisting then it was a good high. I hadn’t expected it to be like this with Adamo, but he filled me with an explosive energy only drugs or racing had done so far.

I climbed into the backseat, kicked off my boots, then threw the door shut, cloaking myself in darkness. I locked the car, reached for the Glock under the front seat and put it on my belly as I stretched out on my back. Sleeping in the car wasn’t comfortable, but sharing a tent with Dima seemed unwise after our recent argument. I didn’t even know when he’d be back, or if he’d be back at all. Maybe once things had calmed down. But I actually preferred to keep an eye on my car even at night. Many racers had a lot to lose when they didn’t make the podium. The money up for grabs meant salvation for them, a way to pay off their debtors (probably also Camorra, or maybe Bratva) or post bail for a family member. Despair made people do foolish things. I wouldn’t give them the chance to slit my tires or cut my brake hose.

I was still wide awake though, so I peered out of the window. Adamo kicked the ground before he, too, climbed into his car. He was pissed. I couldn’t help but smile. I wondered what a pissed Adamo would look like, how he’d race.

My body longed to return to him, to continue what I’d begun. My panties stuck to me with my arousal, something I hadn’t expected from giving Adamo pleasure. I wanted to be close to Adamo but at the same time his closeness shook me up.

My eyes began to droop but I held onto to consciousness for a long time until finally sleep won.

A hard knock at my window woke me. The sun was only just rising over the horizon. My fingers on my gun tightened as I tried to get my bearings. Dima’s face peered inside. Frowning, I sat up, wincing at the stiffness in my back from sleeping half sitting up on the backseat. I unlocked the car and Dima ripped open the door at once. A cold gust hit my body. This early in the morning it was really bearable out here in the desert. “What’s wrong?” I asked groggily, pushing to the edge of the seat and swinging my legs out of the car. Dima’s eyes were bloodshot and dark shadows spread under them. He looked as if he hadn’t gotten much sleep, and possibly drunk more than he was used to.

I pushed into my boots and stood.

Dima glowered, taking a step closer. He put one of his hands behind me on the roof of the car, taking up too much room. “I was there.”

“Where?” I asked, not following his train of thoughts.

“Last night.”

I flushed. I hadn’t done anything wrong and yet a part of me felt guilty. Admitting weakness wasn’t my strong suite, so I got angry instead. “You spied on me?”

Dima’s face twisted with matching anger. “You didn’t really try to hide it, did you? How could you do this?”

“Because I wanted to.”

Dima shook his head. “Will you suck every Falcone’s cock to get what you want?”

My eyes widened. I slapped him hard. “It’s none of your business. It hasn’t been for a long time. Maybe you should remember your place. You are my bodyguard, Dima. You are working for me. Remember your place, or my father will remind you.”

Dima stepped back, hurt flickering in his eyes, which I only caught because I knew him better than anyone, but his face turned ice-cold and hard instantly. “Thank you for reminding me. Don’t worry. I won’t forget it again.”

He turned around, and guilt slashed into me. Dima had been my bodyguard for seven years, first one of several but eventually the only. Before that, we’d been friends and after we’d become even closer. He’d never only been a bodyguard and I had never threatened him with my father, or put him in his place.

I was absolute shit at apologizing and admitting faults but my feet moved of their own accord. “Dima,” I said, my voice still on edge and not at all apologetic. Damn my pride. “Wait.” The apology tickled on the tip of my tongue.

Dima stopped but he didn’t turn. Tension lingered in his shoulders.

“Won’t you face me?”

“Is that an order?”

“Stop this shit! You know I didn’t mean it like that. But you have to stop shoving your nose in my personal business. If I hook up with Adamo, it isn’t your business.” I hadn’t been with anyone else since Dima and I had started dating when I was sixteen, but he and I would never be a couple again. Even when we’d been together, it had never felt right. Though, that might be something to do with my twisted self and not Dima.

He whirled around. “You should know better.”

“You’re jealous but you need to get a grip.”

“Jealous?” he whispered. “Don’t I deserve the right to a little jealousy?”

“No. Not anymore.”

“Is there a problem?” Adamo asked, appearing tall and slightly sleepy behind Dima. He was only in tight boxers, revealing muscled thighs, and an impressive upper body.

Our argument had gotten loud and woken several people who were now poking their heads out of their tents or cars.

At least, none of them spoke Russian from what I knew so they didn’t know what we’d been talking about.

“Fuck off,” Dima snarled, his face turning red. I gripped his arm to calm him down but he shook me off.

Adamo grabbed his shoulder, expression hard. “How about you take your anger somewhere else? Calm down before you return. Dinara doesn’t need your shit.”

Dima jerked free of Adamo’s hold, his body tightening in a way I knew too well. He was a martial arts fighter, had been for as long as I could remember and had even killed a couple of men with aimed kicks. There was a reason why my father trusted Dima to keep me safe.

“Dima,” I growled, but he wasn’t even listening to me. His furious gaze was focused on Adamo. “You have no business getting involved, Falcone pup. This is between Dinara and me, so why don’t you return to your bed and stop bothering me.” He finally moved as if to turn to me, probably to continue our argument but Adamo grabbed his arm again. He still looked remarkably calm, at least his face, but in his eyes, I could see a dangerous fire I’d never seen on him before, and I couldn’t deny it: I was fascinated by it.

Dima whirled on him, trying to land a punch in his face but Adamo must have anticipated the move. He sidestepped the attack and sent a punch into Dima’s left side. After that, all hell broke loose. I stumbled back a few steps to avoid becoming a casualty of their testosterone battle. The videos of Adamo’s fights I’d watched hadn’t nearly done him justice. Seeing him in action right before my eyes, seeing the sweat glittering on his forehead and abs, witnessing the lethal focus in his eyes and the determined precision of his kicks and punches was a completely different matter. It was the difference between seeing a beautiful Fabergé egg on a photo or holding it in your hand, seeing the intricate work put into it up close. Adamo wasn’t as breakable as my favorite art piece but he was a masterpiece all the same, and his art of fighting had taken just as much effort, dedication and talent. I’d always thought Adamo was a reluctant fighter, in videos it had sometimes appeared that way, but now as he exchanged punches and kicks with Dima, he looked like he’d been born to fight, as if the demand for blood and violence rang in his veins, called to him like my dark craving often did.

A crowd gathered around us, shouting encouragement and soon exchanging bets. Dust whirled up around the battle, burning in my eyes.

“Stop it!” I screamed, but I wasn’t insane enough to step between them. They were like fight dogs. If you tried to get between them, you’d be the one they’d bite.

Crank stumbled toward us, looking taken aback by the violent scene before us. Blood splattered the dusty ground.

He waved at two tall, dark-haired men, probably Camorra members. My suspicion was confirmed when they came closer and I caught sight of the tattoo on their arm.

Even they had trouble separating the two fighters but eventually they dragged them apart. Dima’s left eye began to swell shut again when it had only just started to look better after my father had him beaten. His nose was busted too, and dripped blood on his white T-shirt.

Adamo had a cut in his right cheek. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, nor shoes, but his skin was covered with blood splatters, and his eyes were wild and hungry. He reminded me of a predator who’d tasted blood for the very first time and had become addicted instantly.

I shook my head. “Was this really necessary?”

The pit girls whispered among themselves, some even gave me taunting smiles. I bared my teeth at them in a dangerous smile that I’d inherited from my father. They averted their eyes and I met Adamo’s gaze. He calmed and stopped struggling against the man who held him. “You didn’t have to defend me against Dima. He’s always on my side.”

Adamo scoffed. “It didn’t look like that to me.”

I glared and turned to Dima who had become very still. I wondered if he was really still on my side but I couldn’t imagine it being any other way. His jealousy would have to stop eventually. Maybe I should point out to him that he’d been with a few girls since I’d broken up with him, and I never made a scene because of it.

Dima turned to the guy who held him. “Let me go.”

The guy looked at Adamo, which was ridiculous in itself, but of course, Adamo was the highest ranking Camorra member present. He was number fourth after his three older brothers after all.

“Let us go,” Adamo ordered in a hard voice, and both men loosened their hold.

Dima stepped back. “Don’t worry about my interference again. I’ll attend to business in Chicago from now on.”

I doubted he’d really leave me out of sight. He’d stay close so he could intervene if anything happened but I’d call my father just in case to tell him I’d sent Dima away. Dad would be pissed off and try to convince me to return home, no doubt.

“Dima, let us talk once you’ve calmed down, all right?”

He didn’t say anything, only stalked off toward his car.

“If you miss a race, you risk disqualification!” Crank called but Dima didn’t react. He got in his car and drove away.

I sighed.

Adamo wiped the back of his hand over his cut, not taking his eyes off me. Slowly the crowd scattered. I wondered if last night had been worth the fight with Dima. What had it really accomplished except pissing off my best friend, and probably Adamo, too? I hadn’t thought it through. I’d reacted out of fear, which was a stupid thing to do. Because I’d felt like losing control, I’d tried to exert control over Adamo in the easiest way I could think of.

Now I’d created a mess, and my body still hummed with desire when I looked at the man before me, especially covered in blood because he’d fought for me.

It was such a damsel-in-distress thing to think, to feel turned on by, but my base instincts were obviously stronger than my stubbornness.