Page 108 of Tied Over

“No,” he agreed, and scrambled to open the drawer, get the tube, and then pass it to me, waiting, panting, turned on and hesitant at the same time.

Opening the tube, I bent over him, squeezed some into my hand, then took him down the back of my throat as I gently pressed a finger inside him.

His gasp of my name was a very good sound, his demanding hands in my hair holding me there as I sucked and laved, making the suction strong while massaging his muscles, the second finger allowing me to open him up, make slow, endless circles.

He bent his knees, needing the leverage to lift up, wanting deeper down my throat. “Please, Jed.” He pressed down on my fingers and rose for my mouth, the loop getting faster, his breath choppy. When I added the third finger, his breath caught, freezing for a moment with the shudder that followed.

I leaned back, his cock slipping from between my lips. “Yes?”

“Yes,” he moaned, eyes heavy-lidded now, only slits of brilliant blue, his legs slipping around my hips, trying to pull me closer.

“Grab my pillow,” I ordered gruffly, slipping my fingers slowly, gently from his clenching channel, counting in my head so I didn’t lose control, never having wanted inside anyone more in my life. “Shove it under your hips.”

He complied instantly, and I took hold of my cock and aligned the head with his hole, easing forward, feeling the muscles ripple around me. I watched his mouth open, took hold of his cock and began stroking him to the same rhythm of my slide in and ease back, deeper each time, repeating my motion until the clenching eased and the tugging began, his body not letting go.

When I thrust home, to his core, he cried out, and I froze for a moment, worried, but my name came like a prayer from his throat.

“Good?” I asked, wanting to rut into him, the need primal to take what was mine, show him that only I belonged there, inside him, buried deep.

“I didn’t— I thought it would be— Show me, Jed.”

Sliding back, I pushed inside, harder than before, and we both heard the slap of skin on skin. “Okay?”

“Don’t ask anymore.”

The second time I didn’t pull out, I had never enjoyed that, instead preferring to stay where I was, piston inside and drive as deep as I could.

His hand gripped my shoulder tight, and again he lifted for the plunge as I took him over and over, wanting everything, all of him, because Bodhi Callahan was finally all mine.

When I dropped down on top of him, needing a moment so I wouldn’t come, I kissed him breathless, tasting, sucking on his lips as I rolled forward and back, rocking, pumping, slow and steady until I couldn’t, feeling the orgasm there, close.

“Oh, baby, you gotta come.” I bit out the words, shivering with need.

He came apart under me, his muscles clenched so tight, I could barely move, but there was enough give to push forward again, peg his gland and hear him yell my name.

Watching him come, head back, eyes closed, giving himself over to the sensations coursing through his body, was beautiful. He coated my abdomen, and I came inside him, the gush of warm, wet heat making me growl with pride.

He opened his arms, and I was careful that time, covering him gently, the aftershocks making me jolt as he held me tight.

“You’re being so gentle with me, when it should be the other way around,” he murmured.

“You always take care of me,” I reminded him. “This time it’s my turn.”

“I love you,” he said into my ear, licking some of the sweat off my skin. “So much. Let’s rest a second and do it again.”

I was ridiculously pleased with myself, and demanded a kiss.

He kissed me hard, letting me know that all I had claimed, he’d done the same. “You’re all mine, Josiah Redeker.”

There had never been any doubt.

TWELVE

Since it could always go either way with Ian—he could be right about things or really wrong, it truly just depended on the day—I decided to be cautiously optimistic with what he’d said about Custodial WITSEC. I was hopeful I would not be going home every night to cry because a child was lost to the system. But amazingly, he turned out to be a hundred percent right. The last time I worked with Miro, or technically, for Miro, it had been a mess. But now, with years under his belt, the department ran seamlessly. Miro Jones did in fact know exactly what was happening with all the kids under his supervision. And, even better, there were no new intakes in the two weeks that Bodhi and I had already served.

Since we weren’t actually needed, Ian moved us back to our regular desks, but because I couldn’t be on the street yet, we got to be the permanent guys in the office. Normally, as all of us were investigators, we rotated. But since I was a bird with a clipped wing and Bodhi was the keeper of said bird, he was stuck with me.

“No,” I whined when I was at my desk, which faced Bodhi’s.