Chapter Twenty-Five
Black Ravens
Ex
Ex woke with a chill in his bones.
Not the frustrating, pull-the-covers-up-higher kind.
It was the cold feeling that meant Meridian had never gotten into their bed.
The clock read 1:07 a.m.
He lay there for a few minutes, listening, but there was no life inside their home.
Ex hadn’t asked where Meridian was taking Scar or what he’d planned to do with him. Meridian wasn’t the kind of man who explained himself or justified his actions.
Ex dragged the charcoal goose-down comforter off the bed, wrapped it around himself, and padded barefoot through their condo.
It was dark, and the terrace doors were wide open, allowing the winter air to creep in and curl around his calves.
His better half was sitting bare-chested on the patio couch in front of the firepit, with a diamond-cut glass of dark liquor hanging loose in his fingers.
They’d been partners for almost a decade, and the sight of Meridian—the light from the flames outlining his endless lines of muscle—still made his heart stutter.
An oversized jet-black Russian sable was draped over his bare shoulders like the night wrapped around perfection. Silk pajama pants rode low on his hips, exposing the dark trail of hair below his navel.
His lover wore the forty-thousand-dollar coat as if he didn’t give a damn if killing animals for clothes was morally wrong or not.
Ex had always been drawn to Meridian’s permanent scowl and eyes so dark they swallowed light instead of reflecting it, but the tension in his shoulders and the tightness at the base of his lover’s throat made unease stir in his stomach.
Meridian was a master at concealing his stress, but sometimes the weight of his authority, responsibility, and command of the Ravens couldn’t be hidden.
Meridian never told anyone, or the world, that he cared or loved, but he showed it by how viciously he fought for them.
He was about to drop the comforter and go to him when a sharp knock at their front door interrupted his thoughts.
Meridian didn’t move or even turn his head as he slipped one of his cigarettes between his lips and lit it.
Ex snorted. “Who have you pissed off now, lover?”
He opened the door, and Jo stood there—looking immaculate as always—flanked by two of her shadow operatives and her intelligence director.
Her long black hair was flowing down her back to the waistband of her tailored pinstriped skirt. The purple silk blouse didn’t have a speck or wrinkle despite the late hour.
“Where the hell is he?” she snapped.
Ex opened the door wider, and Jo’s gaze locked on Meridian’s silhouette beyond the glass doors.
She stalked across their Nero marble floor in her lavender stilettos.
She didn’t bother with a preamble before she went in.
“What the fuck were you thinking, sending Scar after a mark? He’s been here a grand total of five goddamn minutes. He had no recon, backup or a clean exit. You just sent him into the field bare-assed.”
Ex leaned against the wall, watching.
Fuck, Meridian looked good like that. Stoic and completely unbothered.
Midnight-black fur framing the golden skin over his throat. Expensive liquor and white smoke easing past his lips, with amber lighting licking over his chest.
“Well, he did retrieve the data,” one of the intel techs offered.
“Shut the fuck up, Feed!” Jo yelled. “That’s not the point.”
Meridian took another slow sip of his drink. “Scar is smarter and more resourceful than you think.”
“You’re going to get him killed before the rest of us can find that out,” she shot back. “Before he gets a chance to do any good with those smarts.”
Meridian leaned forward and braced his forearms on his knees.
“If he can’t get into a sixty-five-year-old woman’s house and plant a drive without a handler and a ten-man field squad, then I can’t use him.”
“You mean I can’t use him,” Jo corrected.
Meridian exhaled a thick plume of smoke. “It may be your arena, Jo, but it’s my band.”
Jo paced, fury rolling off her in waves.
“Has Zorion taken Gage out yet?” Meridian asked her.
“They’ve been here one day!” she balked.
“Then fuckin’ move it,” he said coldly. “You’re already a day behind.”
“So we’re just throwing them into the deep end?”
“When the water’s calm and not full of sharks…yes,” he answered. “You told me to train him. So let me train him. Go micromanage elsewhere, Jo. I’m sure you can find someone in your departments to annoy.”
“Excuse me?” she scoffed.
“Jo. This is a thirty-year-old Cognac and you’re whining is ruining the taste, now get out.”
Jo glared at him for a long, tense moment before she turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Ex straddled Meridian’s lap, letting the comforter slip down his back.
“You’re gonna’ break him, aren’t you?”
“Only the parts of him that are useless.” Meridian took another long drag. “Then he’ll be unstoppable.”
He grazed his teeth along Meridian’s jaw. “You see yourself in him.”
“He’s a natural-born killer.” Meridian paused, his grip tightening on Ex’s hips. “I see greatness.”
He pressed his forehead against Meridian’s temple, breathing in the smoke lingering on his skin. His lover’s mouth found the spot on his throat that made him grind his hips down harder.
Meridian’s low rumble was the response he wanted. Those dark eyes met his, penetrating and unblinking as he drank the last of his Cognac and set the glass on the table beside him.
He clutched both Ex’s thighs in a remorseless grip, those gun-roughened hands from years of pulling triggers spiking his arousal.
Meridian’s touch was a promise and a threat. A feeling he craved and feared.
He licked Meridian’s lips, a light caress at first. He wasn’t the type to tease, but he did prefer to savor.
Meridian caught his lower lip and held it between his teeth with the perfect amount of sting.
He opened wider, and Meridian took the space, pressing his tongue inside.
Ex moaned, rocking his hips.
Meridian kissed the same way he killed—efficient, thorough, precise, and unhurried.
The taste of his expensive brandy was heavy on his tongue. Ex chased the bite of oak, burnt sugar, and earthy sweetness from the Black Russian that clung to the seam of his lips.
He tasted it all and yearned for more.
Meridian reached behind Ex and hauled the comforter up over his shoulders, blocking out the cold and sealing him in with his own heat. He gathered the ends in his fists and used them like reins to pull him tighter.
Meridian’s hands weren’t gentle. Every touch landed with intent, the kind that came from a man who knew what bodies did when pushed, when they yielded, and how to make them submit.
His partner’s touch of evil deadliness didn’t scare him. It lit him up and made him ache in places where a simple touch couldn’t reach.
His form of love wasn’t fluffy words nor tender endearment. He was a hunter who consumed what he desired without remorse. Sin enveloped in intimacy.
“Mere, fuck.”
They hadn’t even done anything yet. It was just the thought of where Meridian could take him that had him messed up.
Meridian slid one hand up Ex’s spine, slow, possessive, stopping at the nape of his neck. He held him there, made him stay exactly where he wanted him as he took another kiss, this time deeper and more dominating.
Raw lust surged through Ex, his cock pulsing against Meridian’s abdomen.
He slipped one hand between them and down Meridian’s chest, along the planes of his stomach, to the waistband of his silk pants.
Meridian thrust upward as Ex pulled at the elastic. He reached inside, freeing Meridian’s thick cock, which was already throbbing and glistening at the tip.
He gripped it, but didn’t stroke, just circled the head with the pad of his thumb, relishing the heft, and the surety of what was coming.
Meridian’s breath stuttered, his hand clenching tighter where he gripped his hips.
His lover didn’t plead, and he only surrendered by choice. Meridian watched him with penetrating focus, his silence saying, “Do it, or don’t. Either way, I’ll get what I want.”
Ex wouldn’t make him wait.
He tangled his other hand in Meridian’s dark hair to pull him closer and intensify the kiss.
He reached over and lifted the center console of the couch, brushing his fingers past remote controls, sunglasses, a .22, a small pocketknife, and other random shit, until he closed them around the small bottle of lube.
He flicked it open and squeezed a generous amount onto two fingers before reaching behind him to slick it over his hole, working them in deep to quickly stretch himself open.
He trembled at the greedy glare in Meridian’s eyes as he coated his dick next with firm twisting strokes, keeping his eyes on the way his abs flexed.
Ex sank down slowly, every inch burning sweet and filling.
A sharp gasp tore from Meridian’s lips when the backs of Ex’s thighs touched his lap. He sat there for a moment, breathing, adjusting, loving being stretched so wide.
“Mmm, fuck,” Meridian growled, his fingers digging into his back as Ex rolled his hips.
Ex shifted his weight, grinding harder with his head thrown back, his eyes on the night sky.
He moved with a relaxed rhythm, building the desire layer by layer, keeping every inch of Meridian buried in him to the hilt.
He rocked back, and a jolt of electric pleasure shot through him, making his vision blur and his toes curl.
“Oh shit,” he moaned, voice breaking.
He held on to Meridian’s shoulders, lifting his hips and dropping down hard, chasing that sensation again and again.
Meridian
Meridian’s breath caught as Ex’s body swallowed him, his ass so fucking hot and tight.
Bliss threatened to override his discipline, but he let Ex keep the agonizingly slow pace.
Their lovemaking wasn’t about release. It was about stealing time.
The world could wait. The Ravens could wait. Obligation could wait.
Here, he allowed himself the one thing he was never granted.
Peace.
Ex was his peace because Ex was his permission to lower his weapon for a minute and receive pleasure.
His partner was the only man who could touch him and live, the only one who could step inside the radius of his violence and not be consumed by it.
Ex didn’t belong to him the way assets belonged to the Ravens. He belonged the way Whisper belonged in his hand. A perfect fit with unquestioned purpose.
He pressed his forehead in the valley between Ex’s pecs, inhaling his bed-warmed scent, watching his firm cheeks spread around his cock.
His pulse thundered at the sight.
He flicked his tongue over Ex’s nipple, biting just enough to make him hiss.
They spoke without words. Made silent promises and oaths with each thrust, strengthening a bond already ten years strong.
Ex’s moans were a symphony, cries that crescendoed before they fractured into worshipful groans.
With a single, smooth motion, he stood and reversed their positions, taking the heavy comforter with them.
He settled Ex onto his back, with his cock still buried deep.
Ex moaned at the new angle as he wrapped his legs around his waist, urging him on.
He clamped both hands around Ex’s hips, anchoring him in place.
He sped up, but didn’t pound, taking Ex to the edge and leaving him suspended there. The friction and the heat made every drive more, propelling him to a higher plane.
Ex raked his heels down the backs of his thighs, his back arching as he bucked to meet his hips with each downward thrust.
He dipped and took Ex’s mouth in a passionate kiss as he neared the edge.
“Want me to come for you?” Ex whispered inside his mouth.
Meridian knew he was already there and upped the ante just enough, angling to hit that perfect spot.
Ex’s body tightened everywhere at once. His cock—untouched and trapped between them—erupted with thick ropes of cum.
Meridian squeezed his eyes shut as Ex’s walls clenched around him.
With a final thrust, he went as deep as he could and spilled inside his lover, shuddering as Ex’s aftershocks from his own orgasm made him continue to spasm around him.
They stayed locked together, their fingers intertwined, clutching each other as if something unwanted could creep in if they separated.
Meridian didn’t fear death or the demons of the world, but he was terrified of losing the man in his arms. Without him, his world would narrow to duty, targets, and killing.
Ex’s body was the only place that reminded him he was still capable of feeling more than just rage.