Chapter 16
OAKLEY
We don’t have a lot of time before the Wildlings will be up and moving for the day, so Silas is sucking my cock while playing with my nipples.
“Holy…fuck. Sy.”
But I don’t want to be a two-pump chump, so I focus on his scariest tats. It’s hard to come too quickly when Pennywise is smiling up at you.
Over the last month, I’ve become intimately acquainted with all of Silas’s tattoos—even the ones the other Wildlings don’t know about. I’d assumed he was a huge horror fan until last week, when I asked him what his favorite horror movie was.
He shook his head. “Can’t watch ’em. They give me nightmares.”
I stared at him. “I never thought a legitimately scary guy could ever be terrified.”
“I mostly terrify myself.” His eyes shifted downward. “Getting scary characters tattooed on my skin reminds me that I can control the fear. And the rage.”
And that was Silas too. There was something charmingly principled in his contradictions.
Sy makes an adjustment to the toys he’s using on my nipples, and it brings my sleep-deprived brain back into focus.
I’ve also discovered in these last few weeks that Silas is a fan of experimentation. When he found out that I love having my nipples sucked, for instance, his first question was “But how can I suck your nipples when I’m sucking your cock?”
It was an excellent question. I teased him a little, telling him we could bring in someone else to suck my nipples, but then his eyes turned black and… If he thinks that’s going to prevent me from teasing him like that again, he could not be more wrong.
Because it turns out that rage-baiting Silas is a really great way to inspire his creativity.
For instance, when I told him that I hated standard-issue nipple suckers—they hurt—he did some research and came back with two identical boxes. He held them out in his palms to me, a brilliant and disturbing smile on his face.
“What are these?” I asked.
“Open them.”
What they ended up being was a pair of clit stimulators, the kind with the gentle vacuum suction. I would’ve never thought to experiment with those, nor would I have thought to buy a pair of them.
“You didn’t really need to get two,” I said, confused.
“You have two nipples.”
“So you wanna put them on at the same time?”
As soon as that dumb question fell out of my mouth, I got it. The first time we experimented with them, he barely got his mouth on me before I went off like a rocket.
It’s almost half past five in the morning, and he’s going to town on my cock while holding the two stimulators against my nipples. We’ve been testing out the buzzing patterns, and he just landed on the one that’s going to do the trick.
“I can feel you trying to smile around my dick.”
He flicks his electric blue eyes up to me, letting them slowly, slowly swirl to black.
Fuck. Fuck.
He just did the energy shift. Pennywise might cool my jets, but Evil Sy is rocket fuel to my libido.
“Jesus, Sy.”
He pulls off immediately. “Too intense?” he asks, his eyes bleeding out to blue. “Did I scare you?”
He’s asking because I have to be the one in charge.
Or he might accidentally kill me.
“Yes,” I say, adding a little extra bass to my voice. “To both. Don’t fucking stop.”
He simultaneously hits the intensity button on both stimulators, letting his smile…his being…become evil. He keeps eye contact with me as he slowly lowers his mouth back to my cock, gently twisting the stimulators as he does.
He’s nowhere near my size, but I can’t describe the sensations crashing through my body right now. Shame that he scares me so much, ecstasy from everything he’s doing, and a deep, abiding need for him to continue doing it.
I get vampire smut now. Even that sends an additional shiver down my spine. If Silas had fangs, would I still let him blow me?
Unquestionably.
That’s the one fucked-up thought that finally pushes me over the edge.
“Sy, I…”
His eyes flash, and he takes me deeper. I erupt.
There’s no other word for it. My balls ache with the velocity, and he sucks every drop from me as he plays the stimulators over my nipples until I’m bucking and begging for him to stop.
He does, gently pulling away the stimulators, his aura immediately shifting. Joyful, on the edge of laughter. Not making fun of me, just…proud of himself.
“Call it,” I say, letting my head drop back to the pillows. “Five twenty-seven a.m., Doctor Oakley Ashford dies of orgasm.”
That brings out his dark little chuckle, and I pull him up to me. “You are so fucking good at that.”
His grin broadens, then his eyes widen and an aborted scream leaves his lips when I toss him face down on the bed.
I scramble between his legs, grip his hips, and pull them up. I dive face-first into his ass, licking him with a broad, powerful tongue. The sounds coming out of him amuse me because he can’t seem to help them, despite his valiant efforts to the contrary.
We don’t have time for me to fully recover and fuck him properly, so my tongue will have to do. I press the tip inside and he punches the bedding. I know it’s good, but not quite enough to get him there, so I torture him in that delicious in-between until he’s begging.
I told him he couldn’t touch his cock, and he’s clearly struggling with that bit of instruction. When he reaches underneath himself, I pull away.
“Do I need to get the handcuffs? I don’t know if I have time for that.”
“Please,” he begs.
“Does my terrifying little fuck toy need relief?”
“Please,” he says again. Like he’s lost all vocabulary, save for that one word.
“Since you asked so nicely…”
I dive back in, spearing him again and again while I reach for his cock. It takes just a few strokes for him to come on the old T-shirt I laid out below him. He tries to slump down, but I’m not quite done with him.
I pull him to his side, replacing my tongue with two thick fingers. I suck down his overstimulated cock, his tortured cries music to my ears.
“Oak, too much…”
He comes again.
I swallow, then suck harder. He drags the pillow over his face and screams. When a few more pitiful drops hit my tongue, I pull back with a smile.
He drags the pillow from his face. “Why the fuck did I wait so long to have sex? This shit is amazing.”
I wink, then pull him to standing. “Let’s take a shower and get ready to go in.”
Everyone in the penthouse will be up by six, so we don’t have time to do anything but shower. Which…disappointing. Then again, sudsing Silas’s perfect body is no difficulty on my part.
We finish the shower a little later than we should’ve, so I get dressed quickly and head out the door as he goes to the kitchen. I smile as he hums Fleetwood Mac.
Those songs are older than our fathers, and as I make my way up the stairs to the penthouse, I wonder if the scientist who raised him when he was a baby played them in the background.
Speaking of, I dug into the scientist. He was a geneticist, but I couldn’t find anything of note from him. No published papers, save for his dissertation. No books. No old-school podcast interviews.
The only photograph I could find was his college ID from the sixties. He appears to have been old enough to have opted out of social media.
Every time someone asks Silas about the scientist, he gives vague answers. I don’t believe it’s intentional. When Sy says he has a hard time remembering, I don’t doubt it. That’s more common than people realize.
I’ve had the chance to see him in active operations a few times now.
It’s strange how he shape-shifts depending on who he’s paired with.
He’s a smiling jokester with Anders. Quiet and serious with Odd.
He’s the happiest version of himself with Hopper, even though Hopper isn’t officially a member of the Wimberley team.
Hop does tend to show up for a bit more than he’s strictly invited to, but no one’s tried to stop him.
At night, after everyone’s gone to bed, I sneak back down to his room and get into bed with him.
As much as I enjoy the sex, I like the aftercare just as much.
When he’s so satisfied and boneless that he falls asleep in my arms. The hard-bodied, lethal little spoon to my bearlike big spoon, his head nuzzled under my chin.
We’re all going into Wimberley today because the guys have a pretty big operation on the books.
Hedy’s been after this particular trafficker for a while now, and she discovered he has a hidey-hole on South Padre Island, six hours south of Austin.
She’s gonna fly the team out from Wimberley, so I’ll hang out in the office with Cupcake.
Silas doesn’t need Cupcake on operation days because that’s his happy place. She’s coming with me because she and I get along really well. Sy says it’s because Cupcake knows I’m the one making him happy when he isn’t killing very bad people.
Honestly, I’m flattered.
That said, this is the first time I’ll be helping to lead the debrief, which means I’ll be in the situation room during the operation.
They’re going in on a group heavily suspected of human trafficking.
These assholes have been slippery, and Hedy isn’t fucking around. She’s got nearly the entire team on it.
Given her operational notes, I think it might be overkill, but what do I know?
Rae is with me in the situation room, and her jaw is tight. In front of us is a grid of widescreen TVs, each operator’s body cam on one of the smaller screens at the bottom. Edison is in the lead, so his body cam takes up the movie theater-size screen at the top.
The location is an old-school strip mall, one that has been left to molder for a couple of decades. The big anchor store in the corner has been repurposed as office space, but there’s gunfire from the second the team breaches the front door.
Silas goes in, following Edison’s hand signals. Rae switches the view to Silas’s body cam. It feels like riding shotgun with a wraith, the way he slips around the bullet-ridden cubicle walls, finding the shooters then taking them out with one stripe of the ash gun.
The first guy he finds spins and raises his weapon. I inhale sharply, and Rae sends me a look. When the man falls in a line of ash on the floor, I let out a long breath, hand on my chest.
“You okay?” she asks, giving me side-eye.
“Yes. Just… He’s really fast.”
“Don’t worry about Silas. He’ll be fine.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about…”
Gunfire cuts off my words. Silas quickly finds, then silences, that shooter as well.
Rae clears her throat. I turn to her. “I jump at scary movies, but I will get used to this.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Edison and Mav find two other shooters and take them out. Our team is brutal. Efficient. Within minutes, the building has gone quiet again, and there are about a dozen piles of ash on the various screens. With the front of the office secured, the guys aim for the large warehouse space in the back.
As I’m beginning to wonder if I need to see a therapist for watching this operation, Uncle Odd curses.
Rae switches to his body cam and a guttural “Fuck” escapes my mouth.
It isn’t a warehouse space.
It’s a nursery with dozens and dozens of cribs. And it’s crawling with bad guys. The rest of the operatives fan out. Some have to switch to hand-to-hand combat. Our team is well trained. Theirs…is not.
The only one who hasn’t moved, though, is Silas. He stands near the entrance, not moving, blood from a dead guard pooling toward his feet.
Rae leans in for a better look. “This is bad.”
“Has he ever frozen like that in the middle of an operation?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen him like this before.”