Page 43 of Madness & Mercy (Deadly Sins #1)

NICO

I force myself to finish working, though every second feels like a fucking eternity with Julian upstairs unraveling. The thought of him pacing, restless, hard and furious, is the only thing pushing me to get this shit wrapped up faster.

I fire off a text to Enzo.

NICO: Is it done?

ENZO: It’s done.

NICO: Anyone tail you?

ENZO: What the fuck do you take me for?

I let the phone sit. He knows exactly what I take him for.

ENZO: Don’t answer that.

NICO: Then don’t ask stupid questions.

ENZO: You’re a real prick, you know that?

NICO: And you’re still typing instead of working. Get the cars in the garage.

ENZO: Already handled. You’re welcome, by the way.

NICO: For what? Doing your job?

ENZO: For keeping your boy out of prison. Or worse.

My gaze flicks to the feed upstairs. Julian’s sprawled on the bed, restless, jaw tight, fighting himself. The sight makes heat curl low in my gut. He doesn’t even realize how damn obvious he is.

NICO: Yeah. Thanks.

I kill the screen and shift focus back to the last of the work.

I move some money around, shift accounts, try to scrub Braga and Silvio’s remains from every corner of my territory.

Ports, routes, and trades are locked down tight with Luca, Enzo, and a small army to watch my back.

The near-bust Julian stumbled into is a complication I can’t ignore.

Killing a criminal is one thing. Killing a cop is a whole different beast.

But I’m done keeping him in the dark.

Julian Cross deserves to know the truth about the operation, about the enemies waiting to carve us open, about me. About the fact that as much as I want to own him, I want him beside me too. Not just as the man who drives me insane, but as my partner.

He won’t be running into fire anymore. No more hits, no more contracts.

If I have my way, he’ll never pull a trigger again.

But he could oversee things like finances, maybe even operations.

He’s clever enough, cautious enough. And it would mean having him here, anchored to me in ways he can’t wriggle out of.

He probably wouldn’t say yes without a fight...but that’s fine. Julian doesn’t come quietly.

I shut the laptop, done with business for tonight. My empire’s secure.

Now I need to claim the one thing that isn’t.

I walk upstairs, swinging open the door to find him spread out across my sheets like temptation itself.

His hair’s a mess, shirt halfway unbuttoned, chest rising sharp with every impatient breath.

He hears the door and immediately tenses, like he doesn’t know whether to jump up and fight me or beg me to touch him.

I lean against the doorframe, letting my gaze drag over him. “You really think I wouldn’t notice?”

His eyes flick to me. “Notice what?”

“That you’ve been dying for me to come up here.” My voice is low and steady, meant to cut through that pride he hides behind.

Color rises in his face, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t deny it.

I step inside, shutting the door behind me. The lock clicks. He swallows.

“Careful, piccolino,” I murmur, leaning closer, slipping my jacket off my shoulders. “You don’t want me to think you’ve been disobedient twice in one night.”

His throat works. He’s trying to act unbothered, but I can see the tremor in his fingers, the way his body arches.

“Your body’s already wrecked,” I murmur, my fingers dragging down his torso, watching him arch into the touch before he even realizes. “Think you can take any more, caro mio?”

His chest rises sharp and shallow, eyes blown wide, almost pleading. The desperation there is enough to unravel me.

“Give it to me,” he breathes, tugging at my waistband like a man starved.

Fuck.

I’ve never seen him like this…so bare, so honest.

“You sure?” I ask, gripping his chin, forcing him to meet my eyes.

He doesn’t answer, fumbling with my belt until my cock springs free. Then his mouth is on me like he’s been starving for it. He takes me deeper, nails biting into my thighs, choking on me but refusing to let go. I fist his hair, forcing him further down until his throat spasms around me.

When I finally release him, he rips back, gasping for air, spit slicking his mouth. His eyes find mine, wide and desperate.

“More.”

I smirk, grip his jaw, and drive into his throat again, harder, deeper. He moans around me, one hand stroking himself, the other clawing at my skin.

“That’s it,” I murmur, dragging him off, watching him cough and shiver. “Good boy.”

But then he surprises me. He grabs my collar, shoves me back onto the bed, and straddles my hips. His grin is pure sin. Before I can react, he pins my wrists flat against the sheets, leaning into my ear with a growl.

“Don’t fucking move. Keep your hands there. If you move them, you don’t get to put it in.”

I raise a brow, amused, arousal flaring hotter at the defiance. “You sure you want to play it that way, piccolino? I’m very, very good with my hands.”

“Shut up,” he mutters, tearing off his shirt. Then, fuck, he rips his tie from his collar and knots it around my head, blinding me.

My cock strains harder by the second. “What, you planning to use me like your own personal dildo?”

Julian leans in close, his breath hot against my ear. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Before I can respond, he slides a pair of cuffs around my wrists and binds them to the fucking headboard. Sneaky little bastard must’ve gotten them from my drawer when I wasn’t looking. I’m not usually into being restrained…but with him? My head’s already swimming.

He takes his time, dragging his fingertips down my chest, ghosting over scars, lingering just above my cock without giving me what I want. He traces my snake tattoo, and my body arches on instinct.

“How’s it feel?” he murmurs, kissing the side of my throat. “Being the one tortured for once?”

Unbearable. Absolutely fucking unbearable. But I’ve never been harder in my goddamn life.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I grit, trying not to groan. “You plan this?”

Julian lets out a low chuckle. “Didn’t have to. You’ve always been so predictable, Vitale.”

I smirk, even through the ache. “Is that so?”

He shifts his hips, grinding right against my cock. The pressure rips a grunt from me, my whole body bucking to get inside him.

“Yeah,” he hums, dragging it out. “I know what you’ve been up to.”

My breath falters. The ring flashes through my mind. No, he couldn’t know. Could he?

“And what’s that, cucciolo?”

Julian finally wraps his hand around my cock, stroking slowly, just enough to keep me on edge. “That you’re still being targeted by Braga and Silvio’s men…you’re always leaving me in the dark.” His grip tightens before easing up again. “So I figured I’d leave you in the dark.”

His mouth slides down over my cock, wet heat swallowing me whole. I jerk my hips instinctively, but he pulls back just long enough to slap my thigh.

“Didn’t I tell you not to move?” His voice is sharp and smug before he sinks down on me again.

I groan, straining against the tie, every muscle screaming to touch him, to tear him apart.

“Forgive me,” I rasp.

Julian pulls off, and I can picture him smirking around his panting breath as he lines himself up, the blunt head of my cock pressing against his ass.

“Please…” I murmur, my voice cracked and raw. “Let me fuck you.”

Julian’s smirk sharpens, and he sinks down just enough to tease himself open on my cock before pulling back again. It’s torture. He’s torture.

“Not yet,” he whispers, his nails dragging down my chest. “You don’t get to have me until I say so.”

“Julian…” My voice cracks. I’ve never begged for anything in my life, but he’s got me tied up and begging my life depends on it.

He braces his hands on my shoulders and lowers himself down slow—agonizingly slow—taking me inch by inch until his head falls back, a strangled moan breaking free. The sight alone nearly finishes me.

“Fuck,” I hiss, straining against the cuffs, the muscles in my arms burning. “You’re killing me, cucciolo.”

He leans down, his lips brushing mine, his voice taunting. “Good. Maybe now you know how it feels.”

Then he starts moving, a steady, merciless grind that keeps me buried inside him but never gives me release. He rolls his hips, dragging himself over me, watching every twitch of my expression like he’s memorizing it.

“Julian…” I grit, hips bucking despite myself. “Harder.”

He shakes his head, sweat dampening his hair, eyes blazing with control. “No. You don’t get to command me tonight.”

My chest heaves. “Then what the fuck do you want from me?”

His pace slows even more, his walls clenching around me until I’m groaning through my teeth. “I want you begging, Nico Vitale. I wanna hear you to say it.”

I swallow hard, pride warring with desperation, but his body’s got me undone.

“Please,” I rasp, almost choking on it. “Please, Julian…ride me.”

His wicked smile returns, and he finally slams down on me, taking me to the hilt. My vision whites out.

“That’s more like it,” he pants, bouncing on my cock now with brutal, hungry rhythm. “Say it again.”

“Please,” I groan, my wrists raw from pulling at the cuffs. “Fuck—please, cucciolo.”

And he gives it to me, hard, relentless, milking every sound from my throat until I don’t even care about anything else. All I care about is him, riding me like he owns me.

Julian doesn’t let up. His body slams down on me, wet heat squeezing the life out of me with every drop of his hips. I’m gone, wrecked, my throat raw from the sounds tearing out of me.

“You feel that?” he pants, grinding in circles now, dragging my cock against his sweet spot over and over. His eyes flash with hunger as mine roll back. “You’re mine now, Vitale. Mine.”

“Fuck, Julian—” My voice cracks, my body arching off the bed, wrists tearing at the metal. “I need it.”

“Not until I say so,” he grits, slamming down harder, sweat dripping off his chest onto mine.

I can’t stop begging, not anymore. My cock throbs so bad it hurts, my release building deep inside. “Please, cucciolo. Please let me come.”

He leans forward, hands gripping my shoulders, pressing me even deeper into the mattress, his mouth hot against my ear. “Not yet.”

My whole body shudders. I’ve never felt this helpless, this fucking desperate. I’d give him anything right now if he’d just let me. “Julian…please.”

He smirks against my jaw, still bouncing, still choking me on the edge of ecstasy. “Say it. Say you belong to me.”

My chest heaves, my pride burns, but the need is stronger. “I belong to you,” I rasp.

“Again,” he growls, riding me harder, faster.

“I fucking belong to you,” I snarl, my voice breaking into a groan.

That’s when he finally does He slams down on me one last time and grinds, dragging every ounce of pleasure out of my cock until I’m exploding inside him, my vision shattering, my body shaking uncontrollably.

Julian moans, throwing his head back, his own orgasm ripping through him as he milks me for every drop, refusing to let me go.

I’m trembling, wrecked, undone beneath him, wrists still bound, chest heaving like I’ve just survived a war.

And he leans down, his lips brushing mine, whispering the last twist of the knife:

“Good boy.”