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As Caleb set a rhythm, his hands and mouth working together seamlessly, a concert ensued—the catch of breath, the soft sighs of pleasure, the low groans vibrating from Roman’s chest. Each sound was a symphony, music that spurred Caleb on to take Roman apart piece by piece. Roman’s hand found its way into Caleb’s hair, a hesitant touch that grew bolder with each motion, grounding him, anchoring him in the moment.
Others might use the word slut in a derogatory sense, but he took pride in it. He fucking loved sex, loved pleasuring someone else, loved the taste, the smells, the sounds, all the sensations flooding his body. He loved every fucking moment of it.
He worked him with precision, a craftsman with his art. He used his mouth, his tongue, his throat, every skill honed from years of submission to bring Roman to the edge and hold him there. Roman’s grip tightened, a silent plea etched into the pressure of his fingers.
“Shit, Caleb…” Roman gasped, the words torn from him, raw and ragged.
Caleb didn’t let up but built that pleasure relentlessly without sending Roman over the edge. He was completely tuned in to him, reading his every signal, holding back when needed, and speeding up when Roman had caught his breath.
Roman rose on his toes, his muscles tensing, and sank back down as Caleb eased his tempo, his hands like clamps on Caleb’s head. He rode the waves Caleb created for him, sailing higher and higher. To Caleb, his pleasure was a gift, one he treasured deep inside the submissive core of his being, the part where he cared about nothing but pleasing his Master.
“Caleb, please… Please…”
This time, Caleb let the tide swell until it broke, and Roman spilled into him, hot and shuddering as he let out a deep groan. Caleb swallowed eagerly, gently cradling Roman’s balls to milk every last drop out of him. He drew back slowly, giving Roman space to breathe, to come back down. Roman panted, sweat glistening on his brow, a testament to the intensity of their encounter.
Caleb stayed on his knees, his gaze searching Roman’s face for any sign of regret or discomfort. But all he found was a dazed sort of wonder, a dreamy expression that told him without words he had done well, had pleased Roman. As always, it lit him up inside.
“Fuck.” Roman exhaled, a shudder rolling through him as he met Caleb’s gaze. His eyes were soft, vulnerable even, a look that spoke volumes. Words were unnecessary when the air hummed with what they’d shared.
Caleb felt it too, the satisfaction curling in his belly, warm and comforting. He’d been used, yes, but willingly, eagerly, and even though he hadn’t come, his pleasure was just as profound. It was more than physical. The tension within him eased, a loosening of the chains that got so tight when he didn’t play for a while.
“Thank you,” Roman said finally and took a step back.
Caleb let him go, reached up, and tucked Roman back in, then zipped his pants and fastened his buckle. “It was my pleasure, Sir.”
He rose to his feet fluidly. Roman gestured at Caleb’s hard cock. “You didn’t come.”
“I don’t need to, Sir. This was for you.”
“Oh.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No, this was…” Roman blew out a breath. “Spectacular.”
Caleb beamed. “Anytime, Sir. I’m at your disposal.”
4
The next day, Caleb followed Wander and Roman into the conference room and sat at the large wooden table. The other team members filed in, not hiding their looks of curiosity. Roman was a district attorney in Boston. Were whatever problems he was facing related to his work?
Wander stood at the head of the table, his expression grim. “We have a new case involving my brother, Roman.”
Roman gave a tense smile and nod of acknowledgment.
“Roman’s life is in danger.” Wander’s statement was blunt, the weight behind it heavy enough to silence the room. “That’s why he’s here. We need to figure out who’s threatening him and how to stop them.”
Roman held up a hand. “Now wait a minute. I wouldn’t go that far…”
Wander silenced him with a look. “You can downplay it all you want, but we both know how serious this is. Someone is targeting you. Let’s start from the beginning and bring the team up to speed.”
Caleb sat up straight. Someone was threatening a DA? Why wasn’t that a case for the FBI? But Caleb knew better than to ask questions before he had all the information.
A muscle ticked in Roman’s jaw. “Fine,” he said, his voice low. “But I can’t share every detail of my cases at work because of the ethical boundaries I have to maintain.”
“Understood. We’ll work with what you can give us.”
Roman clasped his hands on the table. The air in the conference room felt heavy, thick with anticipation and something darker—fear, maybe? “In the past few months, I’ve received threatening messages. All anonymous, of course. Voicemails from an unknown, disguised number with a distorted voice. Texts and live calls. All very vague but menacing. The message is ‘drop the case or else.’”
