“Car. Now.” Sloan’s hard gaze told Conall this wasn’t over. Whatever had just happened had been forgotten for the moment only. Sloan grabbed his arm, dragging him over to the car and throwing him across it. His pants were tugged back around his ankles and Sloan said, “Byrnes, lube. Now,” so roughly that Conall felt it in his balls. He trembled with excitement, the anger he felt was buried beneath the need.
Hands pressed flat against the hood again, Conall bowed his head and waited. When Sloan’s fingers danced across his sore arsecheeks, he sucked in a deep breath at the stinging reminder of Sloan’s unforgiving palm on him. His hard cock got trapped between his body and the car, and he used the Mustang as friction against his desperate wood.
“Tell me why I should give you this, pet. You still haven’t said please and thank you.”
Thesnipof the lube bottle made Conall swallow around the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.” The apology was real, something that slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it. He fucking whimpered like a bitch in heat. There was no going back now. “Please, sir. I’m sorry.”
“You should be.” Sloan ran a hand up his spine, gathering Conall’s shirt at his shoulders. “You’re such a beautiful pet. You don’t deserve mercy.”
“I don’t want it.” Conall looked over his shoulder at Sloan. “Please just fuck me.”
Sloan’s eyes narrowed.
Then Conall felt something huge against his arsehole and he knew what was coming, looked forward to it even. He didn’t care what these men thought. They were just like him, working for a mob boss, except Conall wasn’t shooting guns and killing people, instead he offered up his arse like a good little whore.
Sloan spread his arsecheeks, and Conall sucked in a deep breath as the cockhead spread him apart, slowly, and it nearly killed him. He wanted Sloan to drill into him without mercy, toownhim like he’d done multiple times before, but he didn’t do that. He took it slow, sliding into him with gentle precision that made the lack of preparation an unimportant issue. Conall wasn’t being ripped apart because Sloan would never outright hurt him unless he did something silly like betray him to the feds.
Sloan held Conall’s hips and he began to thrust in movements that drove Conall crazy. His pace was too slow and Conall needed to be fucked hard and fast and unforgiving.
Conall sighed against the hood of the car. “I’ve seen old white men fuck better than this,” he snarked. The comment earned him a smack across the head.
“Watch your tongue, pet.”
“Come on.” He shoved his hips backwards, making Sloan shift deeper inside him. “I need you to destroy me.”
“Do you?” Sloan laid his chest over Conall’s back and grabbed his hands, squeezing tight enough to make Conall’s fingers hurt. His cock jerked in response. “Do you really, pet?”
“Yes.”
He laughed and the terrifying sound made Conall tremble. “Very well.”
Sloan gripped Conall’s hips again and the fucking he wanted, had begged for, began. Sloan’s hips snapped, his cock driving forward into Conall’s tight hole in a way that made Conall curse and groan as his body rocked against the polished hood. With nothing to grab onto, Conall couldn’t do anything but go along with the ride and hope his head didn’t end up in the windshield.
Sloan had a tight hold on him, though, and with each thrust, he speared Conall in more ways than one. Everything buzzed inside of Conall, his skin nothing more than hundreds of goosebumps. His chest hurt and he wasn’t sure if it was because he found it hard to breathe, or from rubbing up against the car, even with his top still on.
Conall still wanted more, though. He wanted to be pushed to the brink, that point where he didn’t know if he was about to have a heart attack, or the best orgasm in his life. So he turned his head and grinned at Sloan. “Is that all you have?”
Sloan’s eyes flashed, turning to hot molten lava as he seized strands of Conall’s hair between his fingers. He slammed Conall’s head on the hood hard enough to make his vision swim for a few short seconds.
He held Conall there, one hand staying in his hair while the other gripped his hip hard enough that Conallknewhe’d have bruises the next morning. He wanted them, though. Everything he did pushed Sloan a little bit further until he had him right where he wanted him.
His arsecheeks stung and with the added friction of Sloan’s hips, they fucking hurt and Conall loved it. Between that pain and the pleasure building inside of him, he was a loose cannon, ready to explode at any given moment.
He reached under himself and grabbed his dick, tugging it in time with Sloan’s vicious pace. It didn’t take much, a few yanks and Conall’s vision danced with bliss and he whimpered. His toes curled and he drove himself back on Sloan’s cock, attempting to milk him of his cum.
Conall’s cock jerked and his balls tightened and he came unraveled. His world tilted on its axis and he came so fucking hard he almost forgot his name. Cum spurted over the polished hood and squelched between him and the car.
Sloan wasn’t far behind him. He slammed his chest against Conall’s back, murmuring Conall’s name into his ear as warm cum flooded Conall’s hole, marking him as owned. Conall enjoyed every second. He loved going for a shower and opening his arsecheeks, squeezing out that seed Sloan dumped in him.
Sloan panted into his ear and kissed the shell of it. “You are stunning, pet.”
Conall chuckled with exhaustion. “Your cock is a work of art.”
Sloan patted his cheek as he pulled out of him, making Conall hiss at the sudden sting. “I’m glad you think so. You know how to push my buttons.”
He helped Conall stand, with Conall’s knees wobbling beneath him. The Mustang was covered in cum, the brilliant wax job worthless now that it had bodily fluids all over it. They’d have to apologize to Jonas for that.
Glancing at the men around them, Conall smiled. They’d all turned their backs, but their bodies were stiff. Jonas, who was definitely not use to this kind of display, was fumbling around with keys.
