Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Archie
Unfortunately, our make-out session in the middle of Leo’s sister’s living room has a short lifespan. I’m suddenly aware we’ve got an audience.
I reluctantly break off our kiss.
Leo’s niece and nephew are standing in the doorway, staring at us with wide eyes and open mouths.
It’s like they’ve never seen a man in a cape kiss a sparkly unicorn.
“Kids,” Caitlin admonishes as she comes into the doorframe. “Leave Uncle Leo and his friend alone.”
“Captain Giggles is actually my boyfriend,” Leo says. “And those are words I never imagined I’d say,” he mutters in an undertone.
“I’m also known as Archie,” I say. “Captain Giggles is my undercover name. I’m actually a secret agent for the International Bureau of Fun, and your uncle has been helping me on a very important mission.”
Kimmy’s eyes go wide. “What kind of mission?”
“I’m afraid that’s classified. But I can tell you it involved a unicorn costume, several balloon animals, and at least one Chicken Dance.”
“Is Uncle Leo a good agent?” Kimmy asks.
“He’s the best I’ve ever worked with.”
“Even though his balloon giraffe looked like a llama?”
Leo makes a wounded noise beside me. The kid obviously inherited her uncle’s instinct for going straight for the jugular.
“Do you guys want some pizza?” Caitlin asks us.
“Tempting, but I think Archie and I need to have a conversation that isn’t in the presence of little ears,” Leo says.
He gives me a look that tells me talking is only one of the things we’ll be doing when we get some privacy, and my body heats in response.
But then his eyes narrow, and he glances between Caitlin and me.
“Before we leave, do one of you want to explain how Captain Giggles came to perform at Kimmy’s birthday party?”
“All the other entertainers on this side of the Atlantic were booked?” I offer with wide-eyed innocence.
I get the signature cut-the-bullshit Leo stare in return.
“I contacted Andrew, and he told me you were visiting your family in Detroit,” I concede. “Then I reached out to Caitlin and managed to convince her I wasn’t some kind of weird clown stalker, and she agreed to let me come and perform. Vaughn paid for my ticket.”
“Vaughn paid?”
“Yeah, he was the one who told me the truth about everything.”
“Archie sent me photos of you two together, and you looked happier than I’d ever seen you before,” Caitlin tells Leo.
“And he said that the reason you left was because you’d done some kind of noble, self-sacrificing thing, which sounded like you, and because Andrew vouched for him, I figured he was legit. ”
A tinge of color seeps into Leo’s complexion, creeping up his cheeks.
“I have to say I didn’t expect you to voluntarily don a unicorn onesie, so that has been an unexpected benefit,” Caitlin continues with a gleam in her eye.
“And on that note, Archie and I will head off,” Leo says.
“Shouldn’t you change first?” Caitlin asks.
Leo looks down at his onesie. “That’s probably a good idea.”
He heads toward the hallway.
“Just make sure you don’t crumple it,” I call after him. “Sparkle McHornface doesn’t retire just because the party’s over. I’ve got plans for that costume.”
Leo freezes at the door, then turns back to face me, suspicion written all over his face. “What kind of plans?”
I make a big show of glancing at Caitlin and the kids. “Um, I’m not sure if this is the best place to give an extended outline.”
Caitlin’s eyebrows shoot up, and she starts to grin.
“I think you’ve met your match,” she says to Leo.
“Oh, trust me, you have no idea,” Leo replies.
Leo and I barely make it a foot inside the door of the hotel room before I’m up against a wall and Leo’s mouth is on mine, kissing me so desperately that my head clunks back against the wall.
The sound he makes against my lips is something I want to record and play on a loop for the rest of my life.
“Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed this?” he says as he grazes his lips down my neck.
“Oh, trust me, I know. Even The Destroyer was no substitute for you,” I gasp.
Leo pulls back, his eyes flaring with heat. “At some point, you’ll need to give me a demonstration of your technique with that thing, but right now, it’s just us.”
“It’s just us,” I agree breathlessly. “And no broken ankle to worry about.”
His hands are running down my chest, and I stop being able to form coherent thoughts somewhere around the third rib.
When his fingertips find the dip of my hip bones, I actually whimper.
Then Leo sinks to his knees, pulling off my pants and underwear before taking my cock into his mouth.
He worships me. There’s no other word for it. His mouth is warm as he takes me deep, and the sensation is so intense that my head once more drops against the wall with a thud. We’re really tempting the gods of concussion with how much head thumping of walls is currently going on.
He works me over with long, slow strokes, and every cognitive function I’ve ever prided myself on starts to shut down.
Oh my god.
This man. His mouth.
When he swirls his tongue over my cockhead, I slam my palm flat against the wall to stop my knees from buckling.
Meanwhile, his fingers cup my balls and then circle back to tease my entrance, which frankly, is just unfair. The man is conducting a multifront assault, and I can’t cope with the overwhelming sensory input.
He releases me and looks up, and the expression on his face—flushed, dark-eyed, mouth swollen—nearly finishes me on the spot.
“Bed,” I manage. It’s the only word my brain can produce.
My legs can barely hold my weight as I stagger the few feet to the bed and collapse face-first into the mattress.
“There’s lube in my suitcase,” I say, turning my head to the side. “Hurry. There’s a chance I’m going to spontaneously combust after that.”
And luckily, my extremely competent man locates the lube in record time because suddenly he’s here, his body blanketing mine, pressing a kiss between my shoulder blades before working his way down my spine.
Then lower.
What Leo does next should require some kind of license.
There should seriously be a regulatory body that monitors this and an accreditation process through which Leo would achieve their highest qualification.
Because his tongue is doing things to me that I will never be able to describe, even with my extensive vocabulary.
I’ve always admired Leo’s focused competence, but when it’s focused on the most sensitive part of me, I’m not sure I’ll survive the experience.
When I’m a complete incoherent mess, gasping and grinding back against his mouth because my body has entirely stopped consulting my brain about its decisions, he adds a finger. The addition does nothing for my coherence but does wonders for the noises I’m making.
Finally, finally, he pulls away, and then he’s lining himself up, and oh my god, I want this so much. Three weeks without this, and my body was apparently keeping a running tally of exactly what it was missing because the fullness of him feels like something slotting back into place.
“You’re mine,” he whispers in my ear. Shit. That shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does, but apparently my libido is a simple fellow who likes claims of possession. Every cell in my body responds to those two words like they’ve been waiting for them.
“You’re mine too,” I gasp.
He presses his forehead against the back of my neck. His breath is ragged and warm against my skin, and for a second, he doesn’t move. Like he needs to feel me before he can let himself have me.
“Always.” His voice is hoarse in my ear.
Then he starts to move, and I stop thinking.
He finds the angle where he hits my prostate on every single stroke like he’s got GPS. I’m shaking, actually shaking, my face pressed into the mattress, making sounds I’d be embarrassed about if I had any capacity left for shame.
And then, if that’s not enough, he rearranges me so he can stroke me off at the same time.
It’s too good.
I’m not going to last.
Pleasure builds and builds inside me until it tips from being something that I’m experiencing to something that I just am. Heat detonates at the base of my spine, and my muscles lock. I spill over his fist.
Oh holy mother of everything sacred and several things that aren’t.
Leo pulls out of me gently.
I lie there for a long moment, face-down, breathing as if I’ve just been resuscitated. My limbs appear to have been replaced with something non-structural. When I finally manage to raise my head off the mattress, the first thing I see is Leo.
He’s propped up on one elbow, watching me with a smile. I smile in return, but then my gaze drops down his body to his still very hard cock. I have an uncontrollable urge to absolutely destroy him in the best possible way.
And I don’t want it ever said that I neglect my duties.
“Here,” I say. I sit up and grab his hips, hauling him up onto his knees so I can take him into my mouth.
Leo closes his eyes like the sight of my lips wrapped around him is too much.
I take him in slowly. The weight of him on my tongue, the taste of him, salt and skin and heat, and oh my god, I love everything about this man so much.
His thighs tense under my hands, and the sound he makes is low, involuntary, like it escaped without permission. It goes straight through me.
I find a rhythm, slow and deliberate, taking him deeper each time, and the stretch of my jaw is a good ache, the kind that makes me feel greedy and powerful. Along with desperate for more.
His breathing fractures above me. His hips shift forward and then catch, like he’s trying not to thrust. I press my hands harder into his thighs and take him deeper because I don’t want his control tonight. I want the Leo that exists underneath it.
“Close,” he gasps.
I pull my mouth off him because I want to watch the moment he comes undone.
His face is wrecked. Not just flushed and undone but completely open.