“He’s ourboss. The mob boss.”
“I don’t care if he’s a fucking Irish god. I won’t do it.” Conall dropped his arms, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He didn’t know whether he was more angry or scared. He’d never bottomed, but he’d rather go to hell before he did.
“According to some folks, he is an Irish god in bed.” Terrance smiled, but ducked when Conall raised his fist again. He held up his hands. “Wait. Stop. It won’t be for long.”
Conall snorted. “Not for long still means I have to let him fuck me.”
“Does it matter?”
“Clearly you’ve never fucked a guy, let alone been fucked by one, you tool.”
Terrance sighed, and it made Conall want to slam his fist against his cheek again. “This is for us. If you don’t do this, he’ll cut our throats. He’s not the kind of man you mess with, Conall. We’re not making a huge profit, and he could kill us for it.”
“No, he’d killyoufor it,” he sneered.
“Do you think he won’t punish you for denying him? Sloan Killough gets what he wants, and what he wants is your arse.” Terrance shoved himself up and grabbed Conall’s shoulders tightly. He squeezed them. “You need to do this. For us. For your brother. I did things for you, don’t you remember that?”
“Killing Dad is different from being fucked by a mob boss,” Conall muttered angrily.
“Please, Conall. For us.”
He poked Terrance in the chest, eyes narrowed. “If it lasts more than a few weeks, I’m coming back to chop off your dick.”
Terrance laughed and tugged him into a hug, thumping him on the back.
Chapter Two
As soon as Sloan saw him, he knew he had to have him. He didn’t have a particular taste, but Conall’s beauty made him crave the taste of his skin against his tongue. He wanted to own him, drive him to his knees as Sloan fed him his cock. If he had a type, Conall Morrissey would be it.
The whore who offered himself up was pretty, but he wouldn’t be able to handle Sloan. He needed a man who would resist him, make him work for their arsehole. The whore was too pliant. Sloan had men like him before and they bored him.
Daire, his second-in-charge and best friend, sidled up beside him. “What are you doing, Sloan?”
“I’m finding a pet.” Sloan sent him a smirk and stepped along the line of whores. He stopped to touch one of the males, tracing his jaw. It was met with hair spiking at his fingertip. “Shave it.”
The whore’s eyes widened and he nodded furiously. “Yes, sir.”
Sloan rolled his eyes and shifted closer to the whore who’d offered himself up earlier. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
He was pretty, with eyes a lovely shade of green, and full lips that would look good wrapped around a cock. It was obvious why he was a high earner. Any man would be crazy not to use that mouth, and Conall agreed, if their little conversation said anything. The thought of his new pet’s cock being inside this whore made his shoulders tense with a strange niggling of jealousy. Sloan liked to keep his pets to himself.
“Forrest.” The whore smiled sweetly, and it only confirmed Sloan’s suspicions. He wouldn’t handle what Sloan had planned for Conall.
“Hm.” Sloan moved on to the next whore, and the next, and while each one had their good qualities, they were also lacking. He was unimpressed.
“Sir!” The provocateur came bouncing into the room, Sloan’s pet trailing behind him. Sloan had decided from the beginning that the brother was annoying. He was too jovial, uncontrollable, and Sloan wasn’t impressed with him either. He wouldn’t make it high up the chain of command in their mob. “We humbly accept your offer.”
Sloan crooked his finger toward Conall. “Come here.”
Conall sent a glare at his brother and folded his arms over his chest. “Not yet. We need to come up with terms and conditions for this arrangement.”
The brother choked. “We didn’t agree on that,” he whispered to him furiously.
Conall ignored him and moved closer to Sloan. He looked like temptation, just out of reach, and he wanted to lean forward, take his pet and never return. But he knew when to tread carefully. He might be a mob boss, but he understood people; it’s how the position became his, and not his brother’s. If he didn’t want to scare Conall away—and in turn, Sloan would have to kill him—he’d need to take it slow.
Sloan smirked. “A negotiator. I like it. Name your terms.”
Daire rolled his eyes and muttered something Sloan couldn’t hear.
