Page 34 of End It All

"I do," I said. "Maybe I'm not book smart. I probably never will be. But I can read people. It's the same reason I ran away from my father, same reason I won't call Benito to bail me out, and the exact same reason why I know that you want to slide your dick inside your best friend's tight, hot?—"

A pillow slammed into my face. I coughed, whether it was from the force of the impact or the dust, I had no idea. We had made our way back to Quincy's apartment and I was glad to be somewhere dark, quiet, and out of the real world. But the place was still filthy and I wanted to set it on fire and watch it burn to ash. Was that so much to ask?

"Keep talking and your ass is going to be out on the street," Quincy threatened.

I threw my hands up. "Hey, I was just calling it like I see it." Grinning, I crawled across the floor to him so I could steal the second joint he'd just sparked up. "This shit is so good. Tastes like California."

He grunted. "It is." When I reached out for it, he pulled back. "I have a contact out there that gets me the good stuff. It's better than anything here."

"Yeah, it is," I said, reaching for the joint again. "Come on, gimme."

"No," he said, shoving a foot into my chest with his sneaker. "Back the fuck off."

"No."

"I swear to god, Blake."

"What are you going to do?"

"Kick your ass," he snapped.

I raised a brow. "You could try."

Quincy's grin unnerved me more than it comforted me. "You say that, but you have no idea who I am. The people I run with, the family I've grown up with? Yeah, you’d be crazy to fuck with me."

"More mafia?" I groaned. "Great."

"Yakuza," he said.

I blinked at him.Seriously, the yakuza. The most I'd heard about them was from TV, movies, and video games, not real life. But here Quincy was, saying he was a part of them. I took him in, his demeanor and how he acted and frowned. No, I didn't think he was telling a lie. If anything, the missing part of his pinky now made a whole lot of sense.

"Really? That's fucking insane," I said. "Do you like it?"

Quincy took a long, deep inhale of his joint and shrugged. He kept his foot in my chest as he searched my face. "It's all right. I mean, it's my life." When I didn't say anything, he scoffed. "What? You want me to give you some daring tales of adventure and danger or something?"

"Nah," I said. "I just want the joint."

He took another inhale. "Too bad. You stole one from me before, and I've shared enough. Fuck off."

No way was I going to take no for an answer. After the time I was having in New York, all I wanted was to disappear from the face of the planet and pretend my life wasn't a giant shit show. Ishoved his foot off of me and crawled up his lap. When I sat on him, he stared, but didn't push me off.

"Give me a drag." I groaned as I traced my fingers over his chest, giving him my best seductive smile. "Just one more."

"You really think that look works on anyone?"

I pressed my chest against his. "Works on plenty of people. Just not you for some reason."

"Well, I like my men a lot more direct," he said. "Not some goddamn crybaby twink that's gonna lie under me and moan and cry like a little bitch. Ain't into it."

I raised a brow as he said that. Really? Quincy might have been high as hell, but what I heard was that he wasn't so much a top, but a bottom. I'd had men use me plenty of times, plowing my holes as frantically and hard as they could while I pretended to be into it. But he seemed different. Quincy wasn't what he appeared.

"Yeah?" I asked. "And do you like your men stuffed into your asshole?"

Quincy choked on the cloud of smoke in his lungs. He coughed hard, leaning over and panting as he tried to draw in another blessed lungful of air. Instead, I watched as he clawed at the ground and tried to regain himself. The laugh that fell from my lips drew a scornful look, and I covered my mouth with the back of my hand to chuckle at him.

"Get off me," Quincy growled.

"No." I ground my hips down. Maybe it was the weed, maybe it was meeting my crazy father, or maybe it was being exiled from the only home I'd ever known, but I was itching for trouble. I wrapped a hand around his throat and squeezed his brown skin. "What are you going to do about it?"