Addicted.

                                        

                                              
CHAPTER: 15


Angel.
"Hello, little Falco."
I froze. Not because of fear—but recognition.
That voice was branded into my mind. And those words...
He had whispered them in the hotel room, while I was unraveling beneath his skilled tongue, clutching the sheets like a lifeline and gasping from the pleasure.
How I hadn't remembered those words before now, would forever remain a mystery.
My body betrayed me before my brain could react. My dick hardened instantly, painfully straining against my slacks.
His body pressed flush against mine, one hand curled around my wrist, pinning it above my head against the hallway wall. I struggled instinctively, but he didn't budge.
He was stronger than I remembered. And he was hard.
I could feel his dick—thick, hot, pressing into the small of my back like a promise. My pulse stuttered, and just as I opened my mouth to speak, his hand slid down my chest, slowly and intentionally, as it crept lower.
I sucked in a breath. "Don't—"
But I didn't mean it. Not really.
Because the second his palm cupped me through my pants and gave the slightest pressure, we both groaned.
"Fuck..." he muttered behind me, his voice strained. "You remember me. I knew you would."
His grip was possessive and confident, like I was his to touch. And God help me, my knees nearly buckled.
"You still feel the same," he murmured, his breath a tease against my neck. "Hot, hard, and desperate for me."
His voice dragged pleasure through my spine like a live wire, pleasure laced with shame. I knew it was dangerous. I knew it was wrong.
But I leaned into it anyway.
The fog cleared for a moment and I found my voice.
"What's your name?" I managed, breathless.
He chuckled, dark and low, nipping the shell of my ear. "I like the mystery. I think you do too."
My eyes fluttered closed. 
"I don't," I protested weakly.
"Don't lie to me, my Falco."
"I'll just call you Mask then."
He growled in approval, the sound vibrating against my back. "And I'll call you mine."
And then he bit me—soft and slow—right where my jaw met my neck.
My brain short-circuited.
I wasn't in the hallway anymore. I wasn't in a club chasing a lead about Max. I was back in that hotel room, gasping breathlessly, as I let him ruin me again and again with his mouth.
But then, I snapped out of it.
"Where's Max?" I whispered.
The groan that escaped his lips after my question wasn't one of pleasure. It was possession dipped in warning.
"No one touches what's mine," he said. "That's all you need to know."
The thrill that ran through me was sickening. I should've been scared. I should've shoved him off. Should've remembered the reason I was here in the first place.
Instead, I pushed back into him, rubbing my ass against the bulge in his pants.
He hissed out a breath.