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He’d prepared himself. He eased it out with a mewl that nearly undid Adam. But then he went down on all fours, rammed back on the dildo, and let out a relieved, shuddery sigh, and Adam was fucking gone. He closed his eyes and tilted back his head, white-knuckling the crochet hooks as his hips rocked up, aching for friction, hungry for the man he couldn’t touch less than ten feet away.
“Look at me.”
He wasn’t sure if Icarus’s sharp command was for him or Nate, but regardless, Adam whipped up his head, righting his gaze just in time to see Icarus reach down and free his cock from the lace. Stroked once, twice, then bowed like a cat, the hand in the bed fisting the sheets, Icarus coming with a deep groan that was echoed onscreen.
Adam wanted to groan too, wanted his dick in Icarus’s ass instead of that dildo, wanted to be under him with his mouth around Icarus’s cock, drinking up every drop of his come, wanted Icarus to flip him over and come inside him again.
Adam bit his cheek so hard he tasted blood.
Icarus’s head jerked up, nostrils flared and eyes wide, his body practically vibrating. He was every inch the predator.
Adam’s heart raced, but he wasn’t afraid. He wanted... The thing inside him wanted... more.
Icarus blinked, and the predator was gone.
Adam closed his eyes, mind swirling, body revolting, heart on a roller coaster he didn’t want to get off of.
“Wasn’t that good, Nate?” Icarus said, focused again on his client. “Maybe you’d like to do this in person?”
Nate’s “I can’t” was wholly unconvincing, even to Adam’s half-lucid brain.
“You don’t have to touch,” Icarus cajoled. “You can be like my friend over there watching me fuck myself, smelling the come as it drips from my dick for you, hearing every slide of the dildo into my hole.”
“We’ve never...” Nate groaned, and if Adam had to bet, Nate was getting hard again just thinking about it.
“I might not be in town much longer, Nate. Last chance.”
“When?” Nate panted. “Where?”
“Tomorrow night.” He rattled off the address, confirmed once more, exchanged payment details, and then Icarus signed off.
The bed springs squeaked, and Adam righted his head. Icarus climbed off the show bed, left the camisole in its hiked-up state, his dripping cock and ass bare, and stalked in his direction. The blank face was gone, but the predator remained tucked away too. Adam didn’t taste blood any longer, and Icarus apparently didn’t smell any either.
“That turned you on,” Icarus said once he reached the side of the single bed.
Adam flicked his gaze down to where his cock was at war with his fly. “Obviously.”
“You weren’t jealous.”
“Watching you do what you do best?” He shook his head. “Not at all. Wanted to be that dildo, or between your legs sucking your cock, or getting plowed by you. But jealous? No, baby. That’s your job, and you are fucking magnificent at it.”
Icarus smirked, gaze drifting to Adam’s erection. “Do you need me to do something about that?”
“If you want to,” Adam replied, and Icarus’s gaze shot back up. “I’m not your job. Only if you want to,” he repeated. He didn’t want an act. If he was going to be real in these moments when he put Adam and the Devil aside, when Icarus tempted him into hitting pause on the future he usually raced toward, he needed to know Icarus was being real in these moments too.
“I want to,” Icarus said as he gently removed the hooks from Adam’s grip. He tossed them aside, then gracefully lowered to his knees, spreading them to make the cami ride even higher. “Put your hands in my hair and come when I do.” He didn’t wait for a reply, Adam’s “Again?” dying on the tip of his tongue. In a single blink, Adam was yanked to the end of the bed, his jeans and boxers torn down, and his legs thrown over Icarus’s shoulders, his dick inside Icarus’s hot mouth.
His hands shot to Icarus’s head, tangling in the magenta strands, holding on for dear life as Icarus took him apart. Long licks, teasing flicks, suction that had him idly wondering if what was left of his soul was being sucked right out of him. Stolen by the predator giving him the only moments of intimacy he’d had in a decade. As his world splintered, his orgasm rushing up to meet the one Icarus groaned out around his cock, he thought it a fair deal—peace in exchange for the soul he’d already lost, claimed by the fiery beast inside him that spread its wings and flew.
TWENTY-SIX
“You know,”Robin said from the passenger seat beside Adam, “he could be in there cutting his own deal with the cop.”
Adam drummed his fingers on the Camaro’s wheel and kept his gaze focused on the strip of retail units a short way up and across the street. To any brave—foolish—passerby on the street this late, it would look like all the units were either empty or closed, including the one on the end, a tasting room for a distillery that had gone bankrupt. Repo was scheduled for later in the week, the job assigned to one of Robin’s contacts who’d been happy to lend them the keys for some extra cash. He and Robin were parked at the curb a half block away, Jenn and Abigail were prowling the nearby alleys and rooftops, and Cormac was perched on the peeling wood sign that hung by the unit’s front door. It was as safe and covered as Adam could make Icarus without alerting anyone, including their target. “He could be, but I don’t think he is.”
Icarus had insisted on meeting Nate alone to start. He liked him well enough, wanted to do something nice for him before they blackmailed him. As he’d rightly pointed out, said blackmail would be more effective if Nate was good and compromised before they sprung their trap. But how long would that take? When would the tasting room’s outside lights flicker on, Icarus’s signal that he was ready for them behind the heavy curtains that blocked the distillery’s windows? How long would Cormac have to play lookout from his perch?
Truthfully, Adam was surprised they’d made it to the waiting portion of events at all. Nate was an overworked cop, but not a bad one. He’d stuttered to a stop short of the unit’s steps, balking at the seemingly abandoned spot, but then Icarus had appeared in the doorway, backlit by soft candlelight and decked out in heels, nylons, and a sinfully short, sinfully tight, little black dress. Nate had caved on the spot. So would anyone with a fucking pulse.
