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“Oh no,” I murmured, brushing a kiss over his lips. “I’m going to draw up a contract. You can sign it if you agree to the terms. One of which, by the way, will be you having regular therapy sessions, and talking about your demons instead of locking them up where they’ll only hurt you.”
“I can do that,” he agreed, swallowing. “I won’t hold anything back from Dr. Korte.”
I kissed him again, lingering longer. “And you know what’ll happen if you lock me up again.”
“You’ll give me that bullet wound I’ve been asking for.”
I groaned. “It’s supposed to be a deterrent, not an incentive.”
He smiled, some of the darkness lifting from him even if he avoided looking me in the eye. Was it guilt, or did he see blood and gore when he looked at me?
“Damien,” I murmured, voicing my worry. “Are you seeing me right now?”
“I’m seeing you,” he replied, his shoulders sagging.
I skimmed my fingers through his hair and pressed a long kiss to his forehead, relief unspooling the knots in my chest. “Tell me if that changes.”
“My instinct is to protect you from this but—I’m starting to wonder if keeping this to myself does the opposite of protecting you. I’ll tell you if I stop seeing you, Vasya.”
“Thank you.” I brushed my lips over his temple, then the crease at the outside of his eye, kisses travelling down his cheek to his jaw and below, to the weak spot on the side of his neck.
He groaned, tilting his head back to give me better access, and I smiled against his throat.
I swirled my tongue over his pulse, his deeper, gruffer response sending a bolt of thrill up my spine.
“I interrupted you while you were working,” I murmured, swallowing the salt and sandalwood taste of his skin. “But you should finish it now we’re done talking.”
“I could not disagree more,” he replied, low and gruff.
“Finish your work, Saint. I want them blackmailed in the next twenty minutes.”
“Or?”
I scraped my teeth over his pulse, my heart quickening at the way his hips bucked under me. “If you don’t want to, I can climb off your lap now…”
“No!”
I smiled. Kissed the underside of his jaw. “I’m proud of you for talking about your fears, Damien.” I slid my hand between our bodies, trailing it down to the bulge in his pants and squeezing his cock. His breathing came louder, raspier. “I know how hard it was.”
“Please don’t use the word hard right now,” he groaned.
I couldn’t hold back a laugh. “To encourage you to keep talking, I should reward you…”
“I’m not a dog you can bribe to do tricks with a treat,” he laughed huskily.
“Who said you’re the one doing the tricks?”
“I know a good trick,” he replied, his hand moulding to my ass and squeezing. “All I need are two fingers and I can make your eyes roll back.”
“It doesn’t sound like you’re working on that blackmail, so I’ll just…” I lifted off his lap, completely bluffing.
“No,” he growled, his arm snapping around my back to drag me back down, my chest plastered to his, my hips flush to his, his cock pressing insistently against me. “Jesus, Vasya.”
“You’ll need that hand to type,” I pointed out, giving him a smug look as I reached for his cock again, unfastening the button and zip on his trousers this time. “Better get blackmailing, Damien. Remember, twenty minutes.”
His voice was faint. “What happens in twenty minutes?”
I didn’t know, but he didn’t have to know that. “Do you really want to find out?”
