Martin shifted and stretched an arm toward the door. His fingers caught the edge, and he swung it closed, blanketing them in darkness.

Every cell in Ricky’s body thrummed to acute awareness.

With a long, heavy exhale, Martin slowly eased his weight against the front of Ricky’s body. Chest to chest, hip to hip, Martin let him feel the press of hot skin and six feet of carved masculinity.

He fisted a hand in Ricky’s hair and rested their foreheads together, breathing softly, comfortably, sinking into the bond.

Goddamn, the divine torture. The blissful hell. It was everything and not nearly enough.

He dug his fingers into Martin’s waist, his cock throbbing in his jeans, trapped between the crush of their hips.

Martin didn’t rock against him or jerk away in repulsion. Ricky’s need was front and center, a bulging rock between them, conspicuous and unrequited.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you what you need.” Immersed in blackness, Martin tightened his fingers in Ricky’s hair and flattened his other hand on the wall. “If I’d met you before… Before my head got all fucked up, I would’ve made you mine.”

Ricky’s heartbeat went off the deep end and crashed into a pool of chaotic hope.

“You mean—” He choked on a leaden tongue. “You’re open to being with men?”

“I never told you I wasn’t. You made assumptions.”

“You never told me you were.” An overload of ecstatic hope consumed him. “If you can be with men…”

“I’m broken, Ricky. Incapable of being with anyone.” With a sigh, Martin removed his touch and stepped away. The mattress squeaked, signaling his distance in the dark.

“Why? Because of the man you killed?”

“Never said it was a man.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Ricky was tempted to open the door so that the hallway would shed light on Martin’s expression. But maybe the concealment of darkness would make it easier to expose secrets.

“Tell me what he did to you.” A pang gnawed in his chest as he imagined the level of hurt Martin would’ve endured to push him to kill someone. “How does it connect to Van Quiso?”

“I can’t talk about this.”

“Why not? I’m your best friend. The person you trust more than anyone else.”

“Because everything that happened…” Martin’s voice dropped to a raspy whisper. “It was my fault. My ignorant choices. I’m fucking ashamed of it, and I won’t… I refuse to change your perception of me.”

“I would never—”

“Drop it. I’m done discussing it.”

His heart collapsed. “I need to say one more thing.” At Martin’s silence, he pushed off the wall and glared into the rancid darkness. “It doesn’t matter who you open up to about your past. If it helps you to talk to Tula, I won’t get butthurt over it.”

When Martin said nothing, he opened the door and surveyed their dismal cell in the light. They needed to eat, but he wasn’t in the mood to scrounge up their next unsatisfying meal.

Instead, he tackled the filthy mattresses. Martin helped him drag them into the hall and beat the dust out of them.

Once the beds were put back together, he cursed his sore ribs and surveyed the darkening bruises on Martin’s face.

As Martin reclined on one of the mattresses, his movements were slow and stiff. An indication he was in more pain than he let on.

Today’s fight in the yard wouldn’t be their last physical altercation. The inmates were walking powder kegs, ready to explode and looking for a target. If he and Martin limped into the common area in search of food right now, they would probably be attacked again.

They needed to sleep, give their wounds time to heal, and discuss Tula Gomez.

“Can you wait until tomorrow to eat?” He gave the quiet hall another glance.

“I’ll manage.”

He closed and locked the door and lay beside Martin in the foulness of their pitch-black cell. His mind churned through everything that had transpired today and stalled on something Martin had said.

“Why did you tell me to fuck her?”

“She’s our way in, and women never refuse you.”

“I could say the same about you, but your damn self-imposed celibacy—”

“It’s not an option.”

“Fine, but she might not know anything about the sex trafficking operation.”

“She works directly for Hector and has the means to find out. The first step is getting her to trust you.”

“In bed.”

“Yeah.”

His cock twitched, ready to jump on the idea. “Fucking her doesn’t guarantee she’ll switch sides. Hector probably sent her to us to figure out where our loyalties lie.”

“We’ll tread carefully.” Martin shifted, creaking the mattress springs. “Keep in mind, if we convince her to work against the cartel, it’ll no longer be just our lives at stake.”

Good point. The cartel thrived on its draconian rules. If she turned her back on them, they would kill her.

He and Martin would be released from Jaulaso in three months, but Matias wouldn’t be able to free Tula.

Maybe she was a conniving murderous cunt and planned to gut them while they slept. But deep down, he agreed with Martin.

Tags: Pam Godwin Deliver Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net