Just a Bit Ruthless (Straight Guys, #6)

by Alessandra Hazard

The guy was handsome enough, Luke supposed, if one liked cold, assertive men who looked like they could snap your neck and be bored while doing it. Luke certainly didn’t. But, for some reason, he had trouble dragging his gaze away.

He didn’t like what he couldn’t understand or control.

Roman sneered, disgusted and irritated with himself. He should have starved the kid. He should have starved him until those pretty lips became pale and chapped, until those rosy cheeks hollowed out from malnutrition, until the boy turned ugly and pathetic. How an ordinary, bull-faced man like Richard Whitford had managed to produce a son who looked like that was a goddamn mystery.

“I told you you’d enjoy it,” Roman said, and he was surprised by how normal his voice sounded. A storm of different emotions flickered through Luke’s expressive face. “If you can turn me on, it doesn’t mean I like you.” “I don’t need you to like me, love,” Roman said, getting out of bed and straightening his clothes. He leaned down to brush his lips against the boy’s well-used mouth, relishing the way Luke tensed and shivered. Roman bit Luke’s lip lightly. “Liking me isn’t a requirement. You can keep on hating me.” You’ll need me, anyway.

“The thing is, I’m not sure. I’m a people-pleaser. I try to fit in every room I enter. In hindsight, maybe I did try to please my mother and be something she wanted, the same way I later tried to please my father and be the tough, manly heir he wanted—I don’t know. I guess I’ve always just wanted to be enough.” But never was. I wish I could find someone who would love me the way I am and wouldn’t want to change me.

His eyes dropped to Luke’s mouth again. The grip on his curls tightened. Luke’s heart started pounding. His face tilted up, his lips parting. Fuck, he wanted to be kissed so, so badly. He wanted to feel that beard against his chin. He wanted Roman’s tongue in his mouth.

His dark eyes were wide and beautiful, and his lips looked soft and very pink. It was irritating. Everything about the boy irritated him: the way he looked, the way he talked, the way he fucking breathed.

“For a fairy boy who dreams of nice men and sappy romance, you sure like it rough,” Roman said. Luke flushed. “For a homophobic man, you sure like groping me. Are you sure you aren’t a ‘fairy’ too?” When he was touching this boy, he wasn’t sure of a damn thing.

“Let go, please,” Luke said softly, still not looking at him. “I get it: I’m nothing but a pawn for you, and I shouldn’t expect to be treated like a person. I got it. I get it—” Roman grabbed his head and kissed him, pouring his anger into the greedy kiss. Damn you. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Luke’s responsiveness was beyond arousing, washing all his reservations away and making him greedy and hungry. He wanted to fucking destroy this ridiculous boy, with his irritating dimples and ridiculous lips, with his soft smiles and soft voice, with his silly, sappy dreams. He wanted to wreck him, take him apart, and put a collar on him with Roman’s— Breathing hard, Roman wrenched his mouth away, dropping Luke back on the bed. What the fuck.

“I don’t want this,” Luke whispered. “If you want it, you’ll have to force me.” Roman thumbed open the button of his fly. “I’m not in the mood to play that game tonight.” His gaze roamed over Luke’s smooth legs, his cock aching as he imagined them wrapped around his waist. “Let’s drop the bullshit, shall we? I want to fuck you. You want me to fuck you, even though I’m not the nice man you want to have babies with.” He sneered at that, his irritation spiking. “Prep yourself,” he said. He could do it himself, but the less he touched the boy, the better. Touching him was fucking addictive, and nicotine was the only addiction he allowed himself.

He was a sight to behold: all flushed and pretty, an innocent angel and a whore.

Luke chuckled. “Please, stop making sense. You’re the villain. Don’t deviate from the script.” “Even villains are allowed to have a few semi-redeeming moments.” “Not you,” Luke said, smiling sleepily. “You’re supposed to be a royal dickhead all the time.”

“You may stay,” he said finally. Nodding, Luke slung an arm over Roman’s chest and snuggled in closer. “I love cuddles,” he said, yawning. “Don’t take it personally. All people I fuck know it’s something they’ll have to put up with afterward. I’m the biggest cuddle monster you’ll ever meet.” He closed his eyes. “Good night.” “Good night, cuddle monster,” Roman said wryly and reached out to turn the light off, leaving on only the dim bedside lamp.

It was scary how well Roman could read his body and play it like an instrument: he was bossy when Luke wanted to be owned and ordered around, he was gentle and understanding when Luke needed cuddles and snuggles, and he was deliciously cruel and scary when Luke was in the mood to pretend he didn’t want it (with Roman, he always wanted it).

Roman’s gaze moved to his cheek—to where Luke knew his dimple was. Roman stared at it for a moment before he leaned in and kissed it. He kissed it. Luke went still, wide-eyed and breathless, the tie slipping from his hand to the floor. Roman stiffened. He pulled back and turned away, looking faintly displeased, and made a step toward the door.

Roman’s blue eyes swept over him. Luke stood tall, refusing to be embarrassed under his scrutiny. If there was anything he was certain about, it was that Roman wanted his body. One could fake emotions, one could lie about one’s thoughts, but lust wasn’t something a man could fake. Roman wanted him—wanted him badly enough not to care about his gender.

“Anyone can stick a dick in a hole,” Luke said, grinning. “I love being fucked, and any hard, thick cock does it for me. But you can’t take care of me properly.” “What is that supposed to mean?” Roman sounded downright irritated now. Good. Luke looked him in the eye. “I love being eaten out,” he murmured. “I love when men stick their tongues in my hole and let me ride their faces.”

With Roman, he felt cared for, like a pet that wanted to be cherished by his owner. By his daddy. By his Dom. And it was fucking insane.

It must be nice to love and feel loved.

He shook his head. “And it doesn’t matter, anyway. Even if it really isn’t what it looks like, he’s extremely important to you. And maybe it’s selfish of me, but I’m sick of getting crumbs of someone’s attention and affections. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. I think I deserve better. Everyone does. You, too.”

Then he heard Roman exhale. “What happened to your perfect boyfriend?” “He was never my boyfriend,” Luke said. “Turns out he’s not that perfect after all. He has someone else he puts first. He can’t give me what I want.” “I can’t give you what you want, either,” Roman said testily. “No,” Luke agreed. “But you can give me what I need.” Roman sucked in a breath. “I’m not sorting out your father’s mess for a pair of dimples and a pretty mouth.” His tone was harsh, but Luke wasn’t fooled. Closing his eyes, he whispered, nothing but raw honesty in his voice, “I’m scared. I need you to make it better. Make it better.” Roman swore in Russian and hung up.

“Look at me,” Roman said. Luke sighed and lifted his head. Christ. The way he looked…Glassy eyes, flushed cheeks, cherry pink, trembling lips… Roman wanted to lick him all over and eat him whole.

Luke wet his lips with his tongue, his hand squeezing Roman’s erection. “I need you,” he said, his voice cracking. “Please.” Groaning, Roman kissed those trembling lips, and everything else became irrelevant, everything but this boy and his sweet, obscene mouth.

“Why is it always so good with you?” Luke mumbled, still sounding half out of it. “Like, I feel like I’m in heaven when I give all control to you. It feels so, so good. Wanna feel this forever.”

Goddammit, was the boy even aware of the way he looked at him? Roman would like to say that Luke’s lovesick looks bothered him or amused him, but that would be a lie. The truth was, he didn’t mind. The truth was, he fucking liked it. He liked it. The truth was, he wanted his boy to keep looking at him that way—his boy. Jesus Christ. His own possessiveness made him cringe.

And the truth was, he wanted only his curly-haired English boy. He wanted to own him. He wanted to keep him. Hell, he would keep him in his pocket if he could, to have 24/7 access to him. He wanted to be able to bury his face in Luke’s soft curls and suck marks into his skin whenever he wished. He wanted to have the right to do it.

He didn’t care that Luke had a cock instead of a vagina. He was pretty much in love with the boy’s nice little body and wouldn’t change a thing about it.

Luke curled his hands in his own lap. “So…Are you, like, leaving?” he said, his expression open and vulnerable. Jesus fucking Christ. What the hell was this human being doing in Roman’s lap, looking at him that way? I never thought I’d see a day you’d let some baby-faced English kid plait ropes out of you.

If Roman were a better man, he would assure Luke there was nothing wrong with him and that he had plenty of time to meet a good man who would deserve him. But, as far as he was concerned, there wasn’t a man good enough to lick this precious boy’s boots. The world was full of selfish assholes like him. At least Roman was an asshole who could protect him and take care of him.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly. “I already think of you as mine, but I think—I think I can still stop and leave you alone.” Maybe. “But if you choose to be mine, that’s it. Even if your perfect nice man ever shows up, you won’t stop being mine.” I’ll fucking kill him, and it’s not an exaggeration. “So think carefully. It’s your call, not mine.” Luke’s eyes were wide, full of bewilderment, disbelief, and something very bright and warm. At last, a slow smile stretched his lips. “I would say I want to be yours,” he said. “But I’m already yours.”

“I want to be happy. You make me happy.” Fuck dinner. Dinner could wait. “I will.” Roman pressed his lips against Luke’s, stood up, and carried him toward the bedroom. He had a boy to make happy.

James pressed his lips together. “I just can’t see it working long-term. He’s going to break your heart.” Luke looked down at his hands. “Aren’t all people in relationships in danger of that happening? If we live in constant fear of having our hearts broken, we’ll never take the chance to be happy.”

Luke trailed off, thinking of going to sleep in Roman’s arms and waking up so tangled with him that it was hard to tell where Roman ended and he began. Luke smiled softly. “He cares for me. I know he does.”

Roman was used to dealing with dangerous men. Many would call him a very dangerous man, as well. But this slim young man with his angelic face, soft smiles, golden curls and earnest eyes was the most dangerous thing he’d ever encountered. This face should have been outlawed.

Luke had any idea what he’d gotten himself into. He was so young, only twenty-three. Did the boy truly realize there was no going back for him? Because Roman would never let him go.

“Oh,” Luke said, his eyelashes hiding his expression. Roman stared at him. “You can’t seriously want children with me.” Blushing a little, Luke met his gaze steadily. “Why not? Do you expect me to have children with some other man?” “Don’t even joke about that,” Roman said, laying his hand on Luke’s nape. “You’re mine.”

“I love you, too, you silly boy,” Roman said, his voice gruff. When Luke’s eyes widened, Roman’s lips twisted. “I wish I didn’t. They say love brings out the worst in a man. I’m almost scared of what I’m capable of if anyone tries to take you away from me.” He stroked Luke’s cheek with his knuckles, holding Luke’s unblinking, misty-eyed gaze. “You should have told me to leave while you still could, sweetheart. I’m not a good man. Not good enough for someone like you.” Luke shook his head slowly. “You’re good to me.

“You know what I want right now?” Luke said with a small, happy smile. “I want to have slow, sappy vanilla sex for a change.” “I think it’s called making love,” Roman said, nudging Luke’s nose with his own. “Yeah,” Luke murmured, grinning against Roman’s lips. “Let’s make love.” “Let’s,” Roman said and kissed his sweet lips, greedy and possessive. No one will take you away from me. No one. Let them try.