Sloan felt his balls draw closer to his body. Pleasure built inside of him and his orgasm was so close that he could practically taste it—or Conall was about to.
Sloan grabbed a fistful of Conall’s hair, thrusting once more before his orgasm hit him with a force that made him see stars. He clenched his eyes closed and held onto Conall’s face, feeding his load to his pet until Conall was choking on it. Only then did Sloan pull back so Conall could breathe.
Conall coughed, rearing forward to spit out some of the cum onto the hardwood floors. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, wincing. “Fuck. You nearly killed me with your load.”
Sloan grinned despite still coming down from the orgasm high. He captured Conall’s arm and tugged him up and onto the bed. Conall collapsed onto it face first and glanced back at Sloan just as he fell onto the mattress too.
“Am I forgiven?” Conall asked. “Can I come?”
Sloan snorted. “No, pet.”
“Sloan, please.”
“No.” He squinted at Conall, his hand sliding down to his half limp cock. He jerked it slowly. There wasn’t a chance he’d get it up straight away, not after an orgasm like that, but he petted himself anyway. “Take the ring off, but if you come, I’ll know and I’ll handcuff you so you can’t touch yourself.”
“That’s not fair.” Conall turned to his back and threw himself onto the soft mattress. “What kind of apology do you want?”
“You tell me. You’re the one who acted like a brat.” Sloan grinned at him. “The least you can do is thank me for feeding you, pet.”
He glared back at Sloan, but still managed to say, “Thank you for feeding me your load, sir.”
“See? That didn’t hurt.”
Conall hit him on the chest. “Stop teasing.” He grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it up, playing with his nipple bar. He grinned mischievously at Sloan, tugging on the nub of his nipple and moaning. “I’d feel so good if I came.”
Sloan chuckled and grabbed a handful on Conall’s hard cock through his pants. His pet groaned. “No, but nice try.”
“You’re an arse.”
Sloan gave Conall’s cock another good squeeze before he shoved himself off the mattress. “I’m going for a shower.”
Sloan met Fionn at the base of the stairs the next morning. His nephew had his arms crossed and a sour expression on his face when Sloan finally made it to the bottom.
“Yes, nephew?” Sloan raised his eyebrow.
“Did you have fun?” he sneered. He had his blond hair brushed back off his forehead today and he looked more relaxed than usual, with a light blue polo shirt and a pair of light brown cargo shorts that reached his knees. Miami had the perfect weather for those types of clothing and technically it was a vacation, so he deserved to relax.
Since his morning shower, Sloan had also only put on his old college football T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans with no shoes. He had no one to impress, with only his own men protecting the perimeter and checking for threats.
Conall was still sleeping and while he’d tried to convince Sloan to put his newly awoken wood to good use and let Conall get off too, Sloan had refused to give in. So his pet had grumbled and went back to sleep.
“I did, thank you for asking.” Sloan patted him on the shoulder as he strode past, heading to the kitchen. The mansion was nearly brand new, built back in 2011. He’d bought it off a movie star a few years back, when he decided to upgrade from his older, less stunning, mansion to this one. It had high ceilings with hanging lights and arched windows. The builder had chosen a cream theme, with wooden trimmings and brown floorboards. The French inspiration was what made Sloan buy it in the first place.
The large kitchen offered both white and brown cabinets with an island that housed the stove with an exhaust system above it. The sink was in one of the cabinets against the wall, in front of wide windows that let in lots of natural light. The kitchen led on to the dining room, with a long table that could fit ten easily. Sloan didn’t entertain that many people often, but he loved the extravagance. The house itself had twelve massive bedrooms furnished in the most expensive belongings Sloan could buy.
A crime boss like him needed to show off his wealth and power, and the easiest way to do it was through his possessions.
“What did he do this time?” Fionn followed close behind Sloan and fell into a stool at the kitchen island when Sloan made his way to the fridge. The cook came scampering into the room.
“No, no, no. I’ll cook for you,” she muttered, but Sloan held up a hand to stop her.
“Agnes, sometimes I can fend for myself.” Sloan winked at her and grabbed a bottle of olives and a couple of forks.
She frowned at him and huffed, but stalked out of the kitchen again.
He sat in the seat next to Fionn and passed him a fork. As soon as Sloan opened the jar, Fionn stabbed an olive and popped it into his mouth. “So?”
Sloan chewed his own olive thoughtfully. “If I’m honest, I’m worried about him. He’s… angrier than usual.”
