Page 29

I woke to wet heat engulfing me, drawing me from sleep into immediate, overwhelming pleasure. My eyes flew open to find Luka between my legs, his mouth working my cock with devastating skill. My hips bucked involuntarily, drawing a pleased hum from him that vibrated through my entire body.

"Luka," I gasped, still disoriented from the abrupt transition from sleep to intense arousal. "What are you—"

He pulled off with an obscene pop, looking up at me with those dangerous blue eyes, his lips glistening and swollen. "Wanted breakfast," he said with a wicked grin before lowering his head again, taking me deeper.

My head fell back against the pillow as his tongue found that sensitive spot just beneath the head.

Rational thought evaporated like mist under a blowtorch.

The sight of Luka Aleksandar—professional assassin, trained killer—between my thighs, head bobbing, sent blood rushing south so fast I grew lightheaded.

"Jesus Christ," I breathed, one hand tangling in his hair while the other gripped the sheets hard enough to tear. The stubble on his jaw scraped deliciously against my inner thighs, adding a sharp counterpoint to the velvet heat of his mouth.

I'd had exactly three blow jobs in my life, all perfunctory, all disappointing. None of them had prepared me for the way Luka used his entire mouth, his hands, his voice, all working in tandem to demolish any semblance of control I might have maintained.

His hands slid beneath me, gripping my ass to adjust the angle, taking me even deeper.

The muscles in my thighs quivered with the effort of not thrusting up into that perfect heat.

When I dared to glance down again, I nearly came on the spot.

Luka's eyes were locked on mine as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard, the intensity of his gaze making it clear who was in control despite his position.

"Not going to last," I warned, tugging at his hair. "Luka, I'm going to—"

He responded by doubling his efforts, one slick finger sliding lower to press teasingly against my entrance without breaching.

The dual stimulation pushed me over the edge.

My back arched off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over me.

Luka swallowed everything, continuing to work me through the aftershocks until I was gasping from oversensitivity.

When he finally pulled away, he looked thoroughly pleased with himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in a gesture that shouldn't have been hot but absolutely was.

"Good morning to you too," I managed once I could form words again.

"Best part of waking up," Luka replied, crawling up my body to press a kiss against my lips. I tasted myself on his tongue, a strangely intimate exchange that made something flip in my stomach .

As he pulled back, I caught sight of his hard cock against his boxers, the outline of those intriguing metal bars visible through the thin fabric. Before I could overthink it, I flipped our positions, pressing him back against the mattress.

"My turn," I said, surprised by my own boldness as I slid down his body.

His eyebrows shot up, but he didn't stop me. "By all means, doc. Show me what you've got."

I tugged his boxers down, his cock springing free.

Despite having caught glimpses before, seeing those ladder piercings up close was something else entirely.

Six metal bars ran up the underside of his shaft in perfect spacing, gleaming in the morning light.

The modification should have looked intimidating, but instead I found it fascinating, almost beautiful in its dangerous complexity. Much like Luka himself.

"Like what you see?" he asked, voice rough with desire as he propped himself up on his elbows to watch me.

"It's... impressive," I admitted, wrapping my hand around him experimentally. The metal bars created interesting ridges against my palm, and Luka's sharp intake of breath told me they were sensitive.

"They'll feel even better in your mouth," he suggested.

I lowered my head, maintaining eye contact as I ran my tongue along the underside of his shaft, feeling each metal bar in turn.

Luka's reaction was electric. His head fell back, a deep groan tearing from his throat. "Fuck, Vincent."

Encouraged, I took him into my mouth, working my way down slowly and carefully, keeping my teeth away from the metal bars.

The piercings created an entirely different sensation than I'd expected, the metal warming quickly against my tongue.

I had to be extra cautious—one accidental scrape of my teeth against those bars would ruin the moment for both of us—but Luka's increasingly desperate sounds guided me.

More pressure here, slower there, extra attention to the sensitive spot just below the head where the first bar sat.

"Christ, where did you learn to do that?" he gasped as I hollowed my cheeks, taking him deeper.

I didn't answer, too focused on the task at hand.

There was something empowering about reducing this dangerous man to incoherent moans, about having him literally at my mercy.

I varied my technique, alternating between using my hand and mouth together, then just my mouth, then focusing specifically on those fascinating piercings.

Luka's hand found my hair, not forcing, just resting there, fingers tightening when I hit a particularly sensitive spot. His hips made small, aborted movements like he was trying not to thrust.

"Vince," he warned, voice strained. "You’re going to make me come if you keep that up."

I increased my efforts, suddenly desperate to taste him. His fingers tightened in my hair as his climax hit, his whole body tensing as he came with a strangled groan of my name. I swallowed, surprised by my own eagerness to do so, continuing until he gently pushed me away.

"Get up here," he said roughly, pulling me up his body and into a bruising kiss. The taste of both of us mingled between us, strangely intimate.

When we broke apart, we were both breathing hard. Luka's expression was one I'd never seen before—open, almost vulnerable, before his usual smirk slid back into place.

"Not bad for a warm-up," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Next time, we'll have to try something even more interesting."

I laughed, the sound surprisingly light. "There are more interesting things than this? "

His grin widened. "Oh doc, you have no idea what these piercings can do. But we'll save that education for another day."

I relaxed against him, eyes closed. "Is this your standard morning-after routine? Ambush your partner before they're fully awake?"

"Wouldn't know. I don't usually stick around for mornings after."

I propped myself up on one elbow, studying him. The admission revealed more than he probably intended. "So why this time?"

His eyes met mine, startlingly direct. "I wish I fucking knew."

The honesty in his voice hit harder than any practiced line could have. Before I could respond, he was already sliding out of bed, his naked body a masterpiece of lean muscle and scars that I couldn't help but admire.

"I need a shower," he announced, stretching deliberately to give me a show. "Care to join me? I promise to be very thorough." The invitation dripped with innuendo, but I detected a note of defensiveness beneath it.

I sat up, letting the sheet pool at my waist. "Actually, I think we should talk about what this means."

Luka's casual posture stiffened slightly. "Why does it have to mean anything? Can't we just enjoy ourselves?"

"Because nothing about our situation is simple," I replied, refusing to let him retreat behind flirtation. "And because what happened between us changes things."

"Does it?" He turned to face me fully, arms crossed over his chest. "Or are you just overthinking this because that's what therapists do? Analyze everything until it loses any meaning?"

The words stung, clearly aimed to push me away. I recognized the tactic. I'd seen it countless times with patients who feared genuine connection. The closer someone got, the harder they pushed back .

Instead of retreating, I rose from the bed, not bothering to cover myself. Two could play at this game. I approached him slowly, keeping eye contact as I invaded his personal space.

"You're deflecting," I said quietly. "Using sex and sarcasm to avoid admitting that this matters to you."

Luka's entire body reacted like I'd struck him.

His muscles coiled tight, a visible tremor running from his shoulders down his spine.

The temperature between us dropped ten degrees as his eyes flashed dangerously, pupils contracting to pinpoints.

His breath sped in short, controlled bursts through flared nostrils, and a muscle jumped violently along his jawline.

He looked like a predator deciding whether to attack or retreat.

"You don't know what matters to me," he growled, voice dropping to that deadly tone I'd heard only when he discussed killing.

"Don't I?" I stepped closer, our bodies nearly touching. "You could have killed me three weeks ago through a scope. You didn't. You could have let Hector pull the trigger. You didn't. You could have left me behind when Prometheus sent men after us. You didn't."

His pupils dilated. Whether from anger or arousal, I couldn't tell. Maybe both. "That doesn't mean—"

"You've risked everything for me," I continued, holding his gaze. "Your career. Your life. Your standing in the Pantheon. So don't tell me this doesn't matter to you, Luka. I deserve better than that lie."

For a moment, I thought he might kiss me again or possibly strangle me. The tension between us crackled like live electricity. Then his expression changed, shifting from defensiveness to something more calculating.

"What do you want from me, Vincent?" he asked, voice dangerously soft. "A confession? Some tearful admission that you've changed my life? That I'm suddenly a different man because we fucked? "