“I hate winter.”
Jonas laughed. “Me too, sir. Not the best time for outdoor activities.”
Conall shrugged and turned to Ronan. “When will Sloan be back?”
“A few hours yet, sir.” It was the most Conall had heard out of his mouth in a long time. At least he still answered when Conall asked questions.
“Shit.” He stared around the garage full of different brands and colors of expensive cars. “Jonas, you don’t need help cleaning them, do you?”
Jonas smiled. “It’d be my pleasure to have you assist me, sir.”
A few hours later the garage doors opened and Sloan strode in, his back straight and a smirk on those delicious lips of his. His hair was windswept, and the sounds of the roaring wind made Conall realize the brewing storm was already here. He’d been so enraptured in detailing the Mustang he was currently sitting inside of that he hadn’t heard the wind until now. At some point he’d taken off his heavy jacket and gloves, which meant the cool air that managed to sneak in made him shiver.
“Hello, pet.” Sloan dragged him out of the car and greeted him with a kiss that made Conall’s toes curl in his boots. “How was your day? I see you didn’t go for a drive.”
“Storm,” Conall said, petting Sloan’s dark beard that he’d helped trim last night. “I’m not a complete tool.”
“No, you’re not.” Sloan frowned at him. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” He didn’t feel fine, though. Even as he sat here, detailing cars, he felt anything but fine.Useless.That’s the only word he could think of. At the beginning, he went to meetings with Sloan, listened as Sloan’s associates made their demands. He even went with Sloan to New Gothenburg where they’d made a deal with a motorcycle club to run drugs, but during the last few months things had changed. Whenever Sloan went somewhere, he did it alone and left Conall behind. What had happened? He didn’t want to ask because he knew he would end up saying something he would regret with how he was currently feeling.
“You’re not fine.” Sloan’s forehead creased and he dragged Conall farther out of the car so that they stood away from it. “Tell me what’s wrong, pet?”
“Mind your own fucking business.” The words slipped out before Conall could hold them back. He ripped his hand out of Sloan’s hold and stepped away, keeping his chin high. “Pets don’t have emotions. Pets are good for one thing, for you to fuck, right? So why are you asking if I’m all right? Just bend me over the car and fuck me like you want to.”
“Pet, don’t talk to me that way,” Sloan warned, voice low and deep.
The men around them shifted uncomfortably, but Conall didn’t stop. He was on a roll.
“What are you going to do about it?” He smiled and held out his arms. “Spank me here in front of everyone? Do it. I dare you.”
Sloan stared at him for the longest time and the garage was quiet. Conall swore he could hear every breath the guards in the garage took. Suddenly, Sloan moved forward and grabbed Conall so quickly that Conall’s brain didn’t catch up until Sloan had him bent over the burgundy Mustang, with his pants and underwear around his ankles and his palms flat on the car’s hood.
“If that’s what you need, pet, then it’ll be my pleasure.” His hand came down hard, the sound of his palm meeting Conall’s arse echoing around the already quiet garage.
One.
Conall let out a hiss, his fingers curling into fists. When another smack met his cheek, he was shoved forward with the force, his hard cock bouncing with the movement.
Two.
He went from limp to hard in seconds, a new record. There was something thrilling about Sloan punishing him, and as warped as it was in his head, heneededthis punishment more than he needed air.
“What do you have to say for yourself, pet?” Sloan pressed his chest against Conall’s back, caressing Conall’s chin tenderly.
Conall swallowed around the lump that formed in his throat. He’d been half tempted to fold and apologize to Sloan, but he didn’t. By the look in Sloan’s eyes, he knew it too. Conall wanted something that only the mob boss could give him.
Sloan petted his hair and touched the collar around his neck, tugging at it gently. He whispered in his ear, “Youwilltell me the issue, pet, but right now, I’m going to spank you red and raw, and then I’m going to fuck your arse so hard you’ll be walking funny when we get on that plane to Miami.”
Conall whimpered low in his throat, not loud enough for anyone else but Sloan to hear. “Yes, sir.”
Sloan shifted away from him but kept Conall still with a hand clamped around the back of his neck. “Byrnes, go get me some lube from the house. My pet needs to learn a lesson.”
“Yes, boss.”
Conall heard the door slide open and then shut again. The storm continued to rage outside, the wind howling. There were no windows in the garage to preserve the car paint from sun damage. That was the last thing Conall wanted to think about with his pants around his ankles and his red arsecheeks bared.
He squirmed against the hood.
