“I’m going to be late, pet,” Sloan whispered, swiping his tongue over Conall’s mouth.
“So? Isn’t satisfying your pet more important?” Conall led Sloan’s hand to his cock, and Sloan wrapped his long fingers around the hard flesh, jerking him off nice and slow.
“Mm. You could always come with me, suck my cock while I work.”
What a temptation. Conall had sucked Sloan’s cock during a meeting before, after the first time Sloan fucked him in front of his generals. There was this one day where Sloan had a serious business meeting with Puerto Rican drug runners about locations to stash their cocaine, when Conall grew bored and decided he wanted to suck Sloan’s monster cock right there under the desk. The runners didn’t say a word, but only because they weren’t dumb enough to. Sloan had an iron fist in all kinds of criminal business and pissing him off was bad for their livelihoods. So that meant they kept their mouths shut while Conall worked Sloan’s cock until his bitter cum sat heavy on Conall’s tongue. The other men carried on like usual, talking about what to mix the cocaine with and what kind of pull they had in the underground as Conall stood and sucked on his fingers, lapping up the traces of Sloan he’d missed.
If anyone had told Conall months ago he’d be on his knees in front of a mob boss and sucking him off while he attended meetings, he might have punched that person out. He was no whore. Except now he was—Sloan’s whore. Hispet. Conall didn’t mind belonging to someone as much as he thought he would.
“Don’t change the topic.” Conall poked Sloan in the stomach. “I want to drive the Maserati.”
Sloan sighed. “Why must you be so difficult, pet?”
Difficult was demanding Sloan’s attention twenty-four seven. Difficult was never being happy with the expensive presents Sloan bought. Difficult was running to the cops about what Sloan was up to. Actually, that last one might’ve been downright stupid, not difficult. Conall wasn’teitherof those things. He grinned and grabbed a handful of Sloan’s cock through his pants. “Maserati?”
“Fine.” Sloan blew out his breath through his nose. “You can drive me to work.”
“Really?” Conall smiled, trying to tamp down his enthusiasm. The Maserati could only fit the two of them, which meant there would be no bodyguards. They seemed to follow Conall everywhere since he’d been taken, even to the bathroom.
He must have been obvious because Sloan chuckled. “Don’t get too excited, pet. The guards can follow us and they’ll stick with you.”
“You’re no fun.”
“And you’re my pet. I’ll protect you at all costs.” He looked down at Conall’s hand, which had begun massaging him. “And now I’m hard. Make it quick.”
Conall shot him the most wicked grin he had and let Sloan’s cock go. “Nope. I need time for a shower.” He waggled his eyebrows as well as he could—he didn’t have the talent Sloan had—before he turned on his heels and practically skipped toward the bathroom connected to their bedroom. Sloan’s growl was the only warning he got before he had Conall pressed against the sink, Conall’s palms flat on the marble countertop with the comfortable weight of Sloan against his back.
His red arsecheeks protested the extra weight pressed against them, but Conall reveled in the bites of pain mixed with the pleasure. Sloan’s hot breath teased his ear, the one he’d gotten pierced at the same time as his nipple. He trembled and curled his fingers over the smooth surface. Hot pleasure rushed through him and headed south, straight to his already heavy balls. Then came the sound of the teeth of Sloan’s zipper, and Conall’s body turned into a blazing mess of lust and yearning for that piece of flesh trapped in his pants.
“Lube,” Sloan growled.
Conall whimpered and reached down to open the drawer below the basin. He’d already made sure to put multiple bottles of lube all over the house because there were times when Sloan would jump him when he least expected. It was better to have something prepared. Sloan wouldn’t hurt him, no matter how big and bad the mob boss acted, but Conall also didn’t want to waste time in finding lube when they could do it right then and there, as dirty and as fast as they liked.
Conall made a noise of triumph when he found the bottle and held it over his shoulder. Sloan ripped it out of his hand, and the sound of the lid clicking open made Conall’s belly knot with excitement. He had the feeling there would be no preparation this morning and he was right. Sloan shoved him over the basin farther, making his arsehole more accessible. The head of Sloan’s cock touched Conall’s hole, and then he shoved in roughly.
Everything about the burn of the stretch sang to Conall, from the pain to the undeniable pleasure that nearly made him come straight away. The sex they had the night before meant he didn’t need much preparation anyway, but the nips of discomfort were still there, reminding him of Sloan’s width. Between that and the stinging of his spanked cheeks, he was flying high in bliss.
“Fuck, pet. So tight. Always so tight for your master.” Sloan lay across his back and nibbled on his earlobe. “My little whore, only mine.”
“Yours,” Conall groaned, twisting his head to search for Sloan. Their lips touched and Sloan fucked Conall’s mouth with his tongue in a way that made Conall float. He was being fucked at both ends and he enjoyed every second of Sloan touching him, marking him, claiming him.
“Tell me what you want, pet.” Sloan stroked his cheek and jaw.
Conall smiled because he knewpreciselywhat Sloan needed him to say. He licked his lips and reached between the sink and his body to grab his cock. Stroking his hard flesh in time with Sloan’s slow thrusts, Conall slid his eyes closed and groaned. “I want you to fuck me so hard I’ll feel you all day. Give me your cock, sir.Please.”
“Anything for you, pet.” Sloan grasped Conall’s hips, his fingernails digging into the grooves of Conall’s hipbones. His pace grew brutal, his cock slamming into him hard enough that Conall thought he might actually feel Sloan for the entire week. Sloan’s balls slapped against his skin, his fingers digging in so tightly that there wasn’t any doubt Conall would have bruises when Sloan was finished.
Conall held onto the countertop, but the entire thing shook every time Sloan fucked into him. The mirror trembled on the wall behind the sink and Conall stared into it, watching the way Sloan’s eyes narrowed in concentration and how he licked his lips as his gaze focused on where his cock speared Conall open. Everything about the mob boss was addicting, and Conall knew he’d become a junkie for the desire and punishment Sloan gave him. He needed this like he needed air, and that scared the fuck out of him.
Sloan looked at him through the mirror and smirked. “Do you like that, pet? Do you like feeling me fuck you wide, spreading you apart with my cock?”
Conall groaned. “Yes. Sloan, fuck me faster.”
Sloan slapped him on the arse hard enough for it to sting. “What have I told you about manners?”
Conall’s grin turned impish. “What are you going to do if I don’t use them, sir?”
“Don’t push me, pet. You will not enjoy your punishment.” Sloan’s palm came down on his arse again, this time harder than before.
