And far too many moving parts to nail down any sort of suspect—ifthere even was one.
For all we knew, it was the FBI with the leaky faucet.
After he’d shared what little he could—that he technically shouldn’t have even been sharing to begin with—I’d offered my brother the horrific couch and even worse bed at the other place.
A generous offer he’d unsurprisingly declined in favor of a nice hotel room.
We would keep in contact via Rhys’s cell since his was Mayhem secure and mine was possibly mole-infested.
I cleaned up my mess and went to the kitchen to throw everything away. I was planning to waste some time on a brain rot game that would offer a distraction and bring down my stress levels. That was usually how I dealt with bad days. But when I returned to the office, a different idea hit me. A better idea.
Ahotteridea.
Rather than sitting back on the couch, I went straight to Rhys. His eyes were lit with amusement as he pushed away from the desk, expecting our typical routine. That I would stop just within reach so he could yank me the rest of the way onto his lap. I didn’t stop.
Instead, I kneeled between his spread legs and looked up to see a wildfire of heat in his dark, hooded gaze.
“Can I?” I asked.
“Can you what?”
“Can I take your cock out?”
A cruel smirk curved his mouth as he pushed to hear me say it. “That’s all you want? Just to take it out?”
I met his challenge with no embarrassment or uncertainty. “Can I suck your cock down my throat while you fuck my face?”
He groaned as he bent to kiss me. “You’re filthy fuckin’ mouth is gonna drag me to Hell. I just know it.”
“Then you should probably fill it so I can’t talk.”
Another groan as he readjusted to slouch in the chair to give me access. “Take what you want.”
I made quick work of freeing him before I started slow. A lick. A suck. The flat of my tongue before a twirl of just the tip. Slow. Teasing and tormenting both of us as I drew it out.
His hands clutched the arms of his chair as he stared down at me like I was priceless art. And like that art in a museum, he didn’t touch me even though we both knew that was what I wanted.
I pulled away from him and tilted my head back, my mouth open and my tongue stuck out and waiting. I didn’t have to voice my request. He leaned forward and spit in my mouth before I lowered my head to take him again. I pushed him deeper. Moving my head faster and faster.
Wanting him to break.
Needing him to take control.
I swallowed around him as I breathed through my nose. Stars spotted in my vision, but like when he squeezed my throat, it just heightened the arousal. I was too far gone to stop.
He did it for me.
Fisting his hands in my hair, he tugged free as we both panted hard.
Oops.
“Guess my love for you outweighed my need to breathe,” I joked before freezing.
I could’ve stammered an explanation. I could’ve insisted it was just a bad joke with even worse phrasing. I could’ve just kept talking to gloss over the unintentional slip.
I didn’t.
Because Ididlove him. It was illogical and too fast and could explode into a disastrous devastation that would make the drive-by seem like a tea party in comparison.
