I stepped onto the cobblestone streets with lipstick on my neck and a borrowed cigarette between my lips. Outside, the summer heat lingered even by night, and as I walked down the slope leading me to the sea, the sweat dripping down my back reminded me of the days I spent running on the football field back in California.
There wasn’t much I missed from my old life, but being a linebacker was one of them.
It had taught me resilience, the importance of teamwork, and how to assess a situation to defend and protect. But none of it mattered now. I was miles away, strolling through a small Italian town with a leg that worked well enough to walk properly, but that kept me from pursuing any kind of career in sports.
All thanks to my good ol’ dad.
Bastard.
I took a drag of my cigarette, smiling as I heard the sea crashing against the coastline. Bad memories came back in waves, too, but they could easily be drowned by a few shots of vodka or a quick fuck with a hot chick.
But tonight, these two things had earned me a blooming bruise on my cheek and getting kicked out of the club a few minutes after midnight. The girl hadn’t mentioned she had an angry boyfriend, and she hadn’t even flinched when he threw a punch my direction.
As if she was used to it.
I trudged down stone steps, feeling my bloodied knuckles with my healthy hand. Then, I stubbed out my cigarette by grinding it under my shoe and put it on the wall, reminding myself to throw it in the trash later.
At least, I’d hit the guy hard enough for him to back away with fear in his eyes.
Little wimp. I thought, flinging myself over the small wall guarding the sea. My feet dangled over the ledge, and water stretched far into the darkness. The moon was thin, and the lamplight was too dim to pierce the dark.
I sighed, “What the hell am I doing here?”
The question was genuine. I’d been spending my hard-earned money for months traveling through Europe, and though it was nice to be free, I couldn’t see the end of the line. I had no plans, no prospects, and… fuck… No one really.
Twenty-one was a fine age to be lost, though. It meant you had your entire life ahead of you to figure out what the hell you wanted to do. For now, all I wished was to drown out the noise and have enough fun to forget how bored I was with everything.
Footsteps startled me, and a figure approached and settled right next to me, leaning over the wall.
“You put on quite the show back at the club,” the stranger said, adjusting an expensive-looking watch around his wrist. “I wouldn’t want to catch beef with you.”
His English was flawless, but a faint Italian accent lingered on his tongue. His mid-long hair caught in the breeze, and he smiled fully. I found myself blushing, for some reason. Call it European charm, but this dude was as gorgeous as they come. Smaller than me, with a strong body and a lean frame.
His impeccable shirt was a shade darker than the world around us, and his jeans cupped his butt perfectly.
“See anything you like?” He hopped on the wall, his back to the sea, smelling of whisky and mint. “I could use some company.”
“Are you always so…”
“Forward?” He cut me off, winking.
“Yeah.”
“Only when I believe I might have a chance.”
“What makes you think that?”
“You were ogling both girls and boys in there,” the stranger shrugged. “And you’re exactly the kind of guy I’d like to bend over my knee.”
This caught me off-guard, and I unbuttoned my shirt to breathe better. Heat crept up my chest, and my heart somersaulted.
I had to play it cool. Why? Because the offer was intriguing.
“Want to abduct me and chain me in your basement?” I asked playfully.
“If you’re into that.” The guy, who looked to be only a few years older than me, leaned closer. “Just kiss me, and I’ll take it as a yes.”
“You think I’m a slut?” I whispered, my lips inches from his.
“Maybe,” he smirked, cocky in a way that made me want to tackle him.
“What if I am?”
“Then, I’ll have to teach you some manners.”
My cock pulsed in my briefs, swelling just enough for it to be noticeable. “Fuck,” I cursed.
“Someone’s all worked up,” he laughed.
“Do I get to know your name?”
“Dario,” he bit his lower lip. “Bellagio. You?”
“Reece Helm.”
Voices echoed, drunken banter breaking our moment as I was about to dive in for a kiss. The intruders forced me out of my daze, and I re-focused on the sea, trying to hide my crotch with both hands. I sighed, wincing at the pain in my cheek. I brought two fingers to it, and after the group had passed, Dario spoke again, raspy and amused.
“I guess you’re not comfortable with kissing guys.”
“Never did it,” I confessed shyly.
“So I guess you’re a virgin,” Dario lay down on the wall and stared up at the sky. “I bet you’re so tight.”
I choked, “Fuck, man, you’re such a perv!”
Part of me, the biggest part, wondered if it’d be so bad to let myself be taken by such a hot guy.
My dick agreed, and I felt precum pooling around my peehole. The portion of my brain with some self-worth left told me to slap the grin off of the guy’s face and get the fuck out of town.
My heart was racing, and my skin was hot and sticky. This was a proposal I should refuse, but my veins burned, and my hole twitched with expectations. I steadied myself, slowed my breathing, and forced my trembling hands under my butt.
“Sorry, sorry, bello,” Dario said apologetically, holding his hands up. “I’m just fucking with you.”
He slid off the wall, his boots hitting the ground with a loud thud. Then he fished his phone out of the front pocket of his pants and opened an app that lit his face a bright orange.
“I guess there’s plenty of fish in the sea,” Dario continued, “Too bad, because you were my first choice.”
Frowning, I asked, “Should I feel honored?”
“Of course,” Dario took a few steps toward me and thumbed my bruise carefully. “I’d take good care of you, in every way.”
The gesture alone should’ve had me on the run or pissed. All it did, however, was calm my nerves and make my jeans tighter. The danger in Dario’s green eyes was overshadowed only by how hungry they were. He might’ve been a head shorter than me and slimmer, but I’d have thanked him if he were to collar my throat with his hands.
Was this how the women I fucked felt?
Completely exposed, vulnerable in a thrilling way?
A shiver ran up my spine, and I spread my legs unconsciously.
“Shit, you’re so hard for me already,” Dario commented, hoarse with lust. “Do you want this?”
“Want… what?” I asked, breaking at the edges.
“Dick.”
The word stabbed me with its simplicity. “I don’t know.”
“My place isn’t far,” Dario explained, letting go of my cheek. “If you want this, follow me.”
“What happens if I do?”
“Then, you get to be my boy for the night. Maybe longer, if you wish.”
I mulled it over, licked my lips, and turned back to the sea. Freedom. I knew that if I were to follow Dario, my life would change. He had me wrapped around his fingers in a single exchange, charmed by a presence that called for respect.
Authority, the easy kind, the one that was natural, had always had a strange effect on me. I chalked it up to the fact that I enjoyed pleasing my coaches and enjoyed the praise a girl gave me when I made her cum. The hum in the back of my skull suggested it might be deeper than that, something I’d tried to ignore because of shame and cowardice.
I leapt toward him and began to walk away from the water.
“You forgot something,” he pointed at the cigarette butt.
“Shit, sorry,” I picked it up and held it in my palm.
“Good boy,” Dario told me, giving me a careful kiss on my bruised cheek. “By the way, that’s a habit you’ll need to lose.”
Did I hear that right? He called me a good boy?
What did I get myself into?
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