The Kidnapping of Roan Sinclair

by Ashlyn Drewek

It wasn’t dirty talk when he licked the cum off the back of his hand, though. Or when he looked at me like he was going to devour me. What would I have done if he tried? Would I have let him? Would I have actually said “No” after throwing myself at him first? Could I have said “No”?

“You think you know what I need, hmm?” We were nose-to-nose, so close I could feel his heartbeat pick up beneath my fist. “You don’t know shit about me, boy.” “I know whenever you get close to me, you can’t keep your hands off of me. I bet you’re hard right now.”

“You can’t help who you love any more than you can help how tall you are or what color your skin is. It’s not a fucking choice, it just is.”

I wasn’t kissing him so much as being kissed, with anger and need and desperation. The hand on my throat slipped around to the back, threading through my hair to cradle the back of my head.

Roan was the first good thing in my life and I wasn’t going to give him up. As much as it pained me, I broke away from his mouth to give my lungs the oxygen they needed. Resting my forehead against his, I closed my eyes, keeping my hands on either side of his face. “I’m not going anywhere, Solnyshko.”

He pulled his finger free and replaced it with his tongue, kissing me hard and deep. “You’re mine, Solnyshko,” Sasha said, tearing his mouth from mine and fixing me with one of his piercing looks, the kind that saw straight to my soul. “Yes?”

“From now on, you are mine,” he repeated in a growl. The words reverberated from his chest into mine, solidifying that they were real and not just my imagination. “No one else’s. Do you understand?” “I’m yours,” I agreed in a stunned whisper.

“Oh my God,” I exclaimed, pushing him through the door to his apartment. “She’s, like, ninety years old! Leave her alone.” “You don’t know what she said.” “Sticks and stones, man.” “You’re saying I should stone her to death or beat her with a stick?” “What? No! That is not what I’m saying! Jesus! It’s an expression.”

“I kneel for no one,” I repeated, gazing up at Roan, “except the one I love.”

“Apparently his nephew runs a theater and he’s looking for a new composer. Thanks to all your stalking, Sergei saw my senior showcase. I guess he was impressed.” Was this really fucking happening right now? Not only were we both alive, miraculously, but Roan used our near-death experience to fucking network?!

“You said you loved me,” Roan said in a breathless rush, searching my face. “I do,” I panted, answering the silent question in his eyes. And I did. Against all odds, I loved this kid. I loved his smart mouth, his reckless bravery, and the way he made me fucking ache to touch him, to just be near him. It was crazy, but for once I saw something in my future beyond pain and death — life. Because of him. For me, Roan was the sun, the center of my universe, the thing that gave me life. Without it, without him, I’d surely wither away and die. “I told you, you’re mine, Solnyshko. I’m never letting you go.”