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The kiss is hard. Teeth. The taste of cold air and whatever he drank to look like he belonged. His hands fist in my coat. I get his jeans open with one hand and shove them down as far as the seat will allow.

I spread his ass cheeks as soon as I tear his briefs off. The plug is still there. I feel the base of it when my fingers find him and work my hand up to his cock, already close to fully hard.

“Dmitri—”

“Quiet, boy,” I say as I get my rock-hard cock out.

There is no space in the front of a vintage Mercedes for anything pretty. I haul him astride me anyway, back to the wheel, knees jammed against leather, and I pull the plug free and drop it on the dash.

Elias makes a sound of stunned pleasure. I spit into my palms, lube my shaft, then line up and drive up into the boy in one hard thrust.

“Fucccccck, Daddy,” Elias cries out, his eyes rolling toward the back of his head as he groans long and hard.

The car rocks. He is tight and hot and mine. I fuck him like the last two hours were a debt.

Fast. Deep. Relentless.

The wheel presses into the boy’s spine. His sweater is bunched under his arms. I get a handful of his hair and another of his ass and I use both.

The windows are already fogging. Snow ticks on the roof. Somewhere a plough goes past on the main road and neither of us cares.

“Look at me,” I growl.

He does. I bite down on his neck. Hard. Hard enough to mark. Hard enough that he cries out and clenches around me and I feel him start to cum.

I do not slow. I chase it. The climax hits us in the same perfect second—him shaking on my cock and spurting onto my shirt, me buried to the hilt, teeth in his skin, heat spilling inside him while I hold him there so he cannot pretend this was anything but what it is.

I stay inside Elias. Breathing hard. The mark on his neck is already darkening.

“From now on,” I say against his throat, voice raw, “you do not consider fucking another man. Not for a mission. Not for intel. Not if I tell you whatever it takes. That order is dead. You are mine. Do you understand?”

Elias’s hands are still in my coat. His forehead rests against mine. He is shaking.

“I didn’t,” he says. “I didn’t do anything like that inside. He wasn’t even there. But even if he was, I wouldn’t have. Never. I’m glad you said it. I didn’t want to. I don’t want to. I’m yours. No one else’s.”

I hold him there a moment longer. The tracker sits on the dash like a spent round. The city is still out there.

And now I must factor in Maxim, and Nikolai too.

A Lucci plot with three names on it...

I ease Elias back into the passenger seat and put myself away. I start the engine.

“We go home,” I say. “You tell me every word you heard. Then we decide how we use it.”

Elias nods. He pulls his clothes into place. The bite on his neck sits above the collar like a signature.

I put the Mercedes into gear.

The mission is still the mission.

But the boy beside me is no longer a tool I am willing to lend.

Not even to win a war.

15

ELIAS