Chapter 12

Rodrigo's POV

Javier Morales.

That was the name. The missing piece of this whole fucking puzzle. The source of the migraine that had been boring into my skull for weeks, a dull, persistent ache that no amount of whiskey or pussy could quiet.

He had a family. They always did. A wife. A son. A neat little life tucked away in Mexico, far from the reach of my world. But distance was never an obstacle for consequences. I’ve crossed oceans for less.

“Keep a close eye on the pest for me,” I said into the phone, my voice flat, measured. “I’ll be in Mexico soon. It’s time to nip this in the fucking bud.”

I ended the call. The city sprawled beneath my window, a glittering grid of lights and shadows, of people who had no idea what moved in the dark spaces between their lives. For the first time in weeks, I felt it — that low thrum in my blood, the hunter’s pulse. The anticipation of getting closer. Closer to the truth. Closer to whoever thought they could compromise me, cost me millions, embarrass me, and simply walk away.

The thought settled beneath my skin like a slow drug. I could almost taste it. That familiar, intoxicating rush.

And somehow—

My mind drifted elsewhere.

To the boy.

The one from last week.

Fuck.

The memory surfaced uninvited, sharp and vivid. The way he’d looked up at me, that mix of fear and something else I hadn’t been able to name. The way his body had trembled beneath my hands. The way he’d gasped when I pushed into him, that tight, wet heat gripping me like he was made for it.

I felt my trousers stretch.

I reached for my phone and dialed Esteban.

The pig answered on the first ring. “Ah, Don. How may I be of service? Need another girl this week?”

Girl?

I stared out the window of my office. It wasn’t a girl I ordered last week. Did this fucking pig really need me to spell it out? And why did saying it out loud bother me? I fucked a man. I enjoyed it. Simple. So why did admitting it feel like revealing something I didn’t want examined?

Whatever this feeling was — I hated it.

“No.” My voice came out calm, controlled. “I want the same one from last week.”

Silence. Then hesitation.

“Ah… well…”

“Out with it, Esteban.” My patience was already fraying.

“Well, you see, the kid’s been feeling a bit busted since your last encounter. He got injured in the ass after your session. I don’t think he’ll be available for now — at least not until next month. But I’ve got some girls you can crack open while—”

“Never mind.” I cut him off. “I’ll wait until he gets better. When he resumes, assign him to me. Only me. No one else.”

“Y-yes, Don. No problem. Anything I ca—”

I hung up.

He got injured.

The words settled in my chest. Was my cock really that big? The thought sent a flicker of satisfaction through me, something dark and pleased. A faint grin tugged at the corner of my mouth despite myself. I shouldn’t feel satisfied by that. Yet I did.

Fuck.

Only his wet ass could relieve me.

I glanced down at my trousers. Still stretched tight. My cock was tense, straining against the fabric. Well, there was no helping it.

I unzipped my pants and pulled myself out. My hand wrapped around my length, already hard, already aching. I stroked slowly at first, letting the friction build, letting the tension coil.

Hm.

Fuck.

So stiff. So much pressure built up behind it. I moved my palm along my cock, each motion sending waves of heat through my body. But my mind wouldn’t stay quiet. It kept drifting back to him. His wet ass. His pink lips, so mesmerizing when they parted around a moan. His soft, plump ass slapping against my thighs. His smooth white skin, that young glow that made him look almost innocent.

Never thought another man would make me feel this way.

The thought was almost irritating. Almost. But the memory of his body beneath mine, the way he’d clenched around me, the sounds he’d made — it pushed me closer. My strokes grew faster, harder. I could feel the heat pooling in my gut, the pressure building to a breaking point.

Fuck, I’m about to cum.

And just like that, I hit the edge. My hips bucked into my hand as I came, hot and thick, spilling over my fingers onto my pants and desk. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my chest heaving.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then my phone rang.

I grabbed it, still breathing unevenly. “Talk.”

“Sir.” The voice on the other end was urgent. “We have him in our custody.”