Blaze“Whatever was suddenly wrong with me, I just can’t understand my current feeling, it’s like holding on to something you have looked for all your life and finding it in the last minute.”A sharp, sensitive feeling brazes my nipple, and I shudder like some desperate virgin who’s been teased for too damn long.“Argh,” I manage to moan out the moment he frees my lips for a second.Yeah, it does feel familiar now. I know this feeling—this pleasure that races down my spine, straight to my balls. It’s the kind of rush that makes my toes curl and my brain short-circuit. He moves to my neck, face buried against my skin, his breath warm and maddening. One arm wraps tight around me, the other slips down into my boxers like he owns the damn place.I brace myself, expecting one of his stupid-ass taunts—some cocky shit like, “You’re always ready for me, aren’t you?” But he says nothing.He strokes me slowly, and I swear I melt into a puddle of horny weakness. My tip’s already leaking, probabl
BlazeHe spills his hot cum all over my face as he grabs my head and pulls me away, groaning through clenched teeth. Seeing the expression on his face gives me a twisted satisfaction... seeing how much he's helpless under my touch.He finally raises his head, our eyes locking for a while before he stretches his hand to wipe the cum off my face—but instead, he grabs me. In one swift movement, he flips me, my back hitting the couch, legs in the air like I’m some fuck toy he just unwrapped."Carlo—" I start to say, but he ain't listening. His fingers are already yanking my boxers off like it personally offended him.I don't fight it.He raises both my legs with one arm, his palm still wet with his cum, and then he fucking slides his hand straight into my hole."Did you get wet on both sides from sucking me?" he smirks, that cocky expression that used to piss me off so bad. But now? It makes my stomach twist and burn in a whole different way. Shit, I even blush.Fucking hell, I blush like
Blaze“You’re not leaving, are you?” I ask him, stretching across the bed to steal the last pancake off his plate.Carlo smirks, grabbing the fork before I get to it. “Not unless you’re kicking me out.”I roll my eyes, flipping onto my back, letting the sheet fall off my stomach. “Tch. I should kick you out. For breathing too loud.”He chuckles. “What the? This is my house and please, I breathe sexy.”“This is my room and no, you breathe like a middle-aged dog.”It’s been a month. Just one fucking month since this thing started—whatever the hell this is. A month of not killing each other. Of actually sleeping in the same bed. Of sneaky fucks. Morning breakfasts that turn into lazy conversations about dumb shit. Nights where we talk so much I forget why I hated him.And yeah, I hated him. Still do sometimes. The smugness, the way he never fucking backs down, the fact that he always has something to say when I want silence. But somehow, he’s here. Still here. And I’m not asking him to l
CarloHow Blaze and I managed to drop our defenses and set our differences aside still baffles me. It’s like we spent years burying something real beneath layers of resentment—hatred we clung to so tightly, we forgot what even started it.Ever since that night he saw my tattoo, things have shifted. There’s this magnetic pull between us now, like gravity finally gave up fighting. He’s loosened up around me, more open, more… him. It’s almost hard to believe we were ever at each other’s throats, and somehow, that contrast makes every moment with him feel even more addictive.But the more I accept how deep I’ve fallen for this idiot—the same one I’ve been pretending to hate for years—the more I start to unravel. I’ve known it since that damn first night: I love him. And now that I do, everything feels more fragile. He keeps putting up this wall every time I try to move us forward, like he’s scared of what it means. Hell, maybe I am too.What if I cancel the contract? Will he walk away? Wi
Carlo“I need to piss. Don’t start a fight while I’m gone. I mean it. I’m watching you two.” Blaze says, standing from the table with his phone already in hand.I don’t even wait until he’s out of sight. The second he’s gone, Felix’s eyes cut into me like knives.“What the fuck are you planning, Carlo?”I lean back in my chair, chewing slowly. He looks like he’s about to rip the tablecloth off and wrap it around my neck. Good.“Planning? What the fuck do you mean? I’m enjoying a nice dinner with my boyfriend.”He glares at me, jaw tight. “Don’t fucking call him that. You know exactly what I mean. This shit you’re pulling, whatever the fuck it is—I’m not letting you drag him down with you.”I scoff. Loud. Like it’s the dumbest shit I’ve heard all night. “Drag him down? You think I forced him into anything? Please. He’s already mine. You just can’t handle the fact you’re the closest person to him and still couldn’t grow the balls to say how you feel.”His hand twitches on the table. For
Blaze“You better not fucking crash this car,” I mutter, yanking at my seatbelt, heart already pounding harder than it should.Carlo just smirks, cocky bastard. His hands are steady on the wheel, but his eyes? They flash that wicked glint he gets when he’s about to do something dumb, dangerous, or insanely hot.“That depends,” he says smoothly. “You gonna let me fuck you or not?”I shoot him a side-eye, trying to play it cool, even though my dick’s already half-hard from just hearing his voice drop like that. “You’re ridiculous. We’re literally still close to Felix’s street.”“And your point is?”“My point is I’m not about to get railed in a fucking car while his neighbors walk their dogs.”Carlo chuckles low in his throat. “Relax, princess. I know a spot.”I roll my eyes, annoyed that I’m not already yelling for him to turn the fuck around. But I don’t. I sit there, arms crossed, staring at the road like I give a damn. Truth is—I’m buzzing. Still. Ever since brunch.Watching Felix ne
Carlo“You don’t even greet your older brother?”Ah, every fucking sense of peace I was carrying from Blaze’s place just flew out the damn window. I was feeling good. Real good. That kind of good that fucks with your head. I hadn’t even parked for more than a second and already this bastard is running his mouth.I slam the car door shut and shoot him a look, walking past like he’s air. I don’t have time to deal with fucking parasites.“Oh, I see you’re still dreaming of being called the dear older son of Davenport, the heir to Davenport who was raised by his mother and never knew his father was the richest business man in New York City…”I laugh. Loud. Hard. It echoes off the damn driveway.“Listen, bastard, don’t ever call yourself my brother. Yeah, you’re his son, whatever. But you? You don’t fucking exist to me. You can keep walking around with that fake-ass choir boy act, but I see straight through it. You’re a snake in daddy’s pretty little suit. Now excuse me.”I brush past him
Blaze“Yo, pass me that damn wrench, the long one.” I snap, wiping the sweat off my forehead with my bare arm. My fingers are greasy, my shirt’s half soaked from crawling under the damn bike for hours, and my head’s pounding.Felix slides the wrench across the floor to me. “You need a break, man. That bike’s dead, let it rest in peace.”“It ain’t dead. She’s just a stubborn bitch.” I grumble, grabbing the tool and getting back to twisting bolts. “Kinda like someone I know.”He laughs. “Talking about me or Carlo?”I pause. My hand freezes. The sound of metal scraping metal halts. I pretend like I didn’t hear shit. “Don’t piss me off.”“Touchy.”I flip him off under the bike.Minutes pass. Silence settles in. The only sound is the occasional clink of my tools and the buzz from the old fan spinning weakly in the corner.“You know your hands are magic, right?” Felix says the moment he ends the call he was on secs ago.I snort, not even looking up from the bike engine I’m elbow-deep in. “I
Blaze“You’re staring.”Carlo doesn’t even flinch. He leans against the fence like he owns the damn place, arms folded, sunglasses hiding those eyes that I know are full of heat right now.“You’re showing off.”I snort, adjusting the strap of my helmet as I hop off the bike. Sweat slicks my back, my shirt sticking to me in all the wrong places, but the way Carlo watches me like I’m a damn god? Yeah, I could stay like this all day.“It’s called warming up, old man. You wouldn’t know anything about that since your ass is always parked behind a desk or on top of me.”His smirk curves up, slow and lazy. “You saying I’m outta shape?”“I’m saying your skills are probably rusted as fuck.”A few of the other guys laugh as they roll by. The track is full today—smell of burnt rubber in the air, engines roaring, tires screeching. I haven’t felt this alive in months. And having him here, watching me? Fuck, it does something to me. Twists my gut in the best way.“Wanna test that theory?” Carlo pus
Blaze“You better not fucking burn this place down,” I say, eyeing Carlo like he’s some ticking time bomb with a goddamn lighter in his hand.He just laughs, carrying a couple of shopping bags into the kitchen like he owns the goddamn world. Well, technically he owns this fucking house, so maybe he does.“I ain’t that bad, baby,” he smirks, dropping the bags on the counter like it’s nothing. “I can cook… a little.”“Yeah, fucking right,” I snort, crossing my arms over my chest. “You were raised with a goddamn silver spoon shoved so far up your ass, I’m surprised you even know what a stove looks like.”He chuckles again, that deep fucking sound that rattles straight into my bones. “Then I’ll assist, chef Blaze.”I roll my eyes but I can’t help the way my mouth pulls into a fucking smile. God, I’m a mess for this asshole.As I’m pulling out some veggies to start chopping, he’s unloading shit—meat, pasta, some fancy-ass sauce, even a goddamn bottle of wine. He looks so fucking proud of h
Blaze“You fucking serious right now?” Alexi says, kicking off her shoes and flopping down on the oversized couch like she owns the place.I throw a cushion at her. “Don’t get your nasty feet on my new shit, Alexi.”She flips me off without missing a beat. “Whatever. So you chose the scumbag, huh?”I grunt, dragging my hand through my hair. “I didn’t fucking choose him. It’s my stupid ass heart that did.”Alexi snorts like she doesn’t believe me. And maybe I don’t even believe myself, fuck. I mean, yeah, Carlo’s a manipulative piece of shit. But I seem to fucking enjoy his shit, it’s twisted. That’s the fucking problem.The mansion’s too damn big. Echoes of our voices bounce off the fancy-ass walls like reminders that I don’t even belong here. This whole place—every fucking thing—was bought by Carlo. Because I refused to stay in his goddamn penthouse like some kept little toy. And somehow… this felt less shitty. Like I could breathe here. Like I still had my own space.“You know your
CarloAfter one month of the accident that made Blaze consider my pathetic love, if I had known that was the solution I would have bumped into a tree a long time ago… I am back to the office.“If you don’t give me that fucking hotel, I’m gonna send the second drive to dad. And this one has more than just company shit, Carlo… this one proves you’re fucking a man. The heir to Davenport, the golden boy, the one he’s been grooming since we were kids… balls deep in a fucking guy. Think about that.”That’s how William walks into my fucking office at 7AM.No fucking good morning, not like we have good relationship to say pleasantries anyway, but straight up blackmailing me is fucking insane. Just like him.I lean back slowly in my chair, trying to pretend my head isn’t already throbbing from everything else going on. My jaw clenches, and I force my voice to stay calm even though every muscle in me is screaming to fucking pounce on him.“You’re bluffing.”“Am I?” William smirks, tossing a fla
Blaze“Felix’s drunk ass is at my bar again. You might wanna come get him before he breaks something.”That’s the fucking call I get at 1:34 a.m. Just when I thought this night couldn’t get any worse. I’m lying in bed, staring at the goddamn ceiling, half replaying Carlo’s bullshit from earlier and half trying to pretend I don’t care. But then that call comes in and all my attempts at peace flush straight down the fucking toilet.I drag myself out of bed, throw on whatever hoodie I can find, and head out. It’s not even about wanting to go. It’s guilt. It’s instinct. It’s… fuck, I don’t even know anymore. All I know is, Felix is at his worst, and I’m the only person who probably still gives a damn.By the time I get to the bar, it’s exactly what I expected. Dim lights, sticky floor, music too loud for this dead hour, and Felix slumped at the edge of the counter, head half in a glass, mumbling to himself. His face is flushed, eyes glassy. It’s that mix of broken and belligerent that onl
Blaze“Dude, that bike looks like it was smashed into a rock, the fall was messy,” Alexi continues to rant as we walk to the shop together, but my feet fucking freeze the moment we get to the front.“Woah, what a fucking handsome rich dude, he looks like the wealthy God from Greek. Damn, I suddenly remember I have a working pussy,” she whispers, eyes wide and stuck to the tall figure casually smoking in front of my shop like he owns the place.“What the hell, Alexi… Thought you were the top and you’re not into ‘dicks’?” I ask, forcing a smile, but the truth is, my stomach is in knots, flipping like it’s on crack.“Yeah, but trying it once with that gorgeous figure is an achievement,” she mutters. I don’t laugh. I can’t even move a fucking muscle.Carlo. That stupidly gorgeous bastard. His shirt is slightly open, tattoos on full display, hair slicked perfectly to the side, fucking polished from head to toe like he belongs in a mafia fantasy. His head’s down, so he hasn’t seen us yet, b
Blaze“You actually suck at this. Move. Let me do it.”Alexi snatches the wrench from my hand like I just committed some kind of sacred sin, and I don’t even fight her on it. I step back, wiping sweat from my neck with the back of my hand, watching her lean over the greasy engine like she owns the damn thing.“You know I’m still recovering from rich-boy trauma, right?” I mutter, lighting a cigarette and squinting at her through the smoke. “Three weeks out and I still flinch every time I see marble floors.”She snorts. “Yeah, well, this ain’t no penthouse, sugar. This is grease, fuel, and freedom. Welcome back to the land of the living.”I smirk a little.Three months. That’s how long it’s been since I walked out of Carlo’s place and didn’t look back. Since I shoved every memory, every fucked-up emotion, and every craving for his touch into a goddamn box and tossed it somewhere far away.This new place? It’s loud, rough, smells like gasoline and old tires, and I fucking love it. I open
Carlo“Whiskey. Double shot. Don’t go light.”The bartender doesn’t ask questions. Just pours and slides it over, it’s been a long time I came here but they still treat me like a regular. The glass hits my lips, and it burns like it’s supposed to. I stare at the bar stand where Blaze used to stand, all cocky and full of heat. It’s dead now. Cold. Like someone ripped the fucking soul out of the place.I down another.The club smells different without him here. It’s got that same stale sweat and desperation vibe, but it’s missing the spice. The fire. The fucking heartbeat. And I hate that I came here thinking maybe I could feel close to him. Maybe I’d see a shadow of him in the corners. Dumb shit like that.“You look like you need more than just a drink, man.”The voice comes from behind me. Smooth. Confident. I turn my head and there’s a guy—dark hair, pierced lip, smirking like he knows exactly what he’s offering. I don’t respond right away. Just stare.He’s not Blaze. But he’s got th
CarloDays pass.Then weeks.Then fucking months.Every morning I wake up hoping he’s on the couch. Hoping I’ll smell his skin again, hear him cussing at the coffee machine. But it’s just silence. Cold, empty fucking silence that echoes louder than a scream.The bed feels too fucking big. I roll to his side every night like a goddamn addict chasing a fix that ain’t there. I breathe into his pillow even though the scent’s faded. I still look for his towel on the bathroom rack. His boots by the door. But all I see is absence.I hire a private investigator. I pay triple to get the best. They come up with nothing. No name, no face, no trace. Like he never fucking existed.I start checking the places we used to hang out—bars, the old underground garage, that beat-up taco truck near Fifth where he always asked for extra hot sauce and never finished the food. I even go back to the last racing ring we chilled at, the one where he nearly punched a mechanic for scratching someone else’s car. I