Page 301 of John + Siena: The Complete Duet

He loved that.

Loved how she swore when she fucked him, and how good she sounded doing it. Not to mention, the way she looked.

Good God.

Siena’s eyes flew wide, and found his. Her body tensed, and the broken cry that resounded matched the way her cunt squeezed him tight. He pulled her off his cock, and grabbed onto her ass to pull her higher.

Siena’s hands slammed into the floor right above John’s head as he yanked her down onto his mouth. He was right—she was fucking soaked.

Tart, hot, and slick.

Her arousal flooded his tongue as she finished her orgasm. He wanted to feel her coming again, though. Feel her shaking, and get her skin heating up under his touch all over again. His tongue struck out against her clit over and over.

Relentless. Fast. Unforgiving.

Siena trembled and shook as he ate her pussy until she came a second time.

“Again,” he heard her whisper above him.

John kissed the hood of her clit, and looked up to find her watching him. “Whatever you want, babe.”

John ticked his finger over his shoulder, and Pink followed behind at his boss’s unspoken request. The enforcer was good like that. All the while, John continued chatting on the phone with the fucker giving him the most trouble at the moment.

“You mean to tell me there’s nothing you can do at this point?” John asked.

“My hands are tied,” Arthur Lorde said. “Unless you come up with something tangible enough to put reasonable doubt on the table, Andino is stuck where he is.”

“The fact nothing ties him to the bomb—”

“It is now wide knowledge he is running the Marcello organization, Johnathan. He was there, in a business with men he was known to be having issues with, and they died. It is not a stretch for them to put two and two together to get four.”

“Except you’re talking a lot of circumstantial shit right now.”

“They’re putting things together.”

“You agreed to help clear—”

“He did not say he was going to bomb a fucking restaurant in the middle of broad daylight in Brooklyn!”

The fucking bastard on the other end of the phone was lucky that John had been taking his mood stabilizers for a few days. Had they had this conversation a while ago when John’s rationale was all but gone, he would have made a quick trip across town to break the motherfucker’s teeth out of his head.

“Something tangible, you said?” John asked.

“Enough to cast a bigger shadow for reasonable doubt, at the very least. I need something more. Give me that, and this will go away.”

“It’ll be in your hands by tonight.”

John hung up the phone without as much as a goodbye, or a fuck you.

Pink had stepped in front of his boss, and grabbed the door handle of a rundown warehouse in the heart of lower Brooklyn. He pulled it open, and let John walk into the dank-smelling, dark space.

John pointed to the side. “Go turn on the light, and then get your camera ready. Put the bag of shit aside, too.”

“Got it, boss.”

The second John spoke, the mumblings started from within the darkness. A sorrowful, terrified yammering that instantly made John’s irritation spike a little bit higher. He shoved it down, and rubbed his hands together as he took a couple of steps into the darkness.

“No, no, please … no,” it continued on.