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“Dorian,” she breathed out, her hands on my arms, her fists clenching my hoodie. She shoved at me when I went to her neck. “No, Dorian. We need to talk. Talk about what you just said and how you feel.”
I didn’t want to fucking talk. Talking just meant more of this back and forth, and I didn’t want to feel anymore.
Again, I felt this going too far, her heated breath just as persistent as her protests. She wanted to talk as much as she wanted the flicks of my tongue across her skin. Hell, she might have wanted to talk more. She wanted to help me, help us, but I was too busy escaping. I wanted her, and I didn’t want it on healthy terms. I wanted it raw, sick, and with me holding power over her.
“I want you on your knees,” I ground out, making her gasp. I flicked her tongue. “No talking.”
As if to emphasize, I filled her mouth with my own tongue, her pants surprised, heated. I kissed her until I felt no physical resistance, tasting her into submission. Her hands eased their grip on my arms, and I unzipped her coat, filling my hands with her tits through her shirt. We were in a shed that barely fit me, let alone both of us.
A moan touched my mouth, hers. I was hard as fucking steel, and I rocked against her. She held my hips. “Dorian—”
“I said no fucking talking,” I cut in, forcing her down to her knees. “Pull me out.”
I waited above her, mostly waiting for her to stop me. What I was doing was toxic shit right now, avoiding, but I didn’t care. I ignored the disappointment that flashed in her eyes when she undid my pants, like she was disappointed in me, and I lost it anyway when her focus shifted to other places. A chill hit when my dick touched the air, but then Sloane put her mouth on me.
I saw fucking stars.
My hand slammed to the wall, easing in and out of Sloane’s delicate mouth. She took me in deep, gagging a little, and I held her there until her throat opened up.
Fuck.
My eyes pinched tight, my hand working around her hair. I rocked deep, gripping hard, enjoying this too much. This was a temporary high, and I knew that.
I just didn’t fucking care.
And I noticed Sloane after a beat. She was going faster, sucking harder. I gazed down, and she was looking at me, her eyes heated, aggressive. She played with my balls, taking me to the brink too fast, and I wasn’t going to last.
“Sloane. Fuck.” I spilled down her throat in minutes, seconds. I didn’t even have a chance to pull her off and fuck her the way I wanted to, and Sloane held herself to me. She swallowed it all down and licked me clean after.
She even put my pants back up.
After that, she was on her feet, and I didn’t know what to make of her expression.
Mostly because she was avoiding my eyes.
Zipping up her coat, she merely wiped her mouth before looking at me. “Let me know when you actually want to talk.”
Fuck.
I closed my eyes. “Sloane.”
“No.” She raised her hand, her head shaking. I tried to touch her, but she wasn’t having that. Instead, she left the shed, passing the agents. I didn’t know if they knew what we’d gotten up to, but I didn’t care. I was too busy running after Sloane and begging her to talk to me. I was starting to wonder if this was it. If this would be the last time I’d be able to go after her and if she’d even let me. With all my toxicity, this might not be the right thing for her, and I was wondering if I even should go after her. She always made me better.
But what did I ever do for her?
Chapter Forty-Seven
Dorian
“Good evening, gentlemen.” LJ came up behind me, and when the two security guys watching over me noticed, they nodded at him. They didn’t leave, but they did give us space when my god dad came over. LJ tossed the blanket he had at me. “So your parents don’t kill me for allowing their kid to get frostbite on my watch.”
I frowned at the thing, warm enough in front of the firepit I’d been stationed at for more than two hours. I’d gone after Noa earlier today, but she hadn’t wanted to talk, and the irony of that wasn’t lost on me. I lifted the blanket. “I’m not cold.”
“Like hell.” Refusing to take it back, my god dad joined me on the cold lawn furniture. His wool coat kept him warm enough, I supposed, and I wasn’t so bad in my coat. I’d actually worn one tonight. His head cocked. “Anyway, it’s not from me.”
He pointed inside the cabin, Billie waving at us both through the glass door.
