Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
KIERAN
If I’d known it would feel this good to have Connor’s mouth on mine, I probably would have kissed him days ago and just never stopped. I slide off the couch and kneel beside him, our lips glued together and arms reaching to haul each other closer.
The scent of him envelops me just as much as his physical embrace, and I want to crawl into him. He lies back, pulling me down on top of him, and I settle between his legs and lose myself in kissing him, nibbling, tasting.
“Get your shirt off,” he gasps. “I want my hands on you.”
It’s almost torture to pull back, but I want that too, so I press one more kiss to the corner of his mouth and sit up. “You too,” I order as I unbutton my shirt enough to reach back and pull it over my head. When I’m free of the fabric, he’s staring at me with naked lust. “What?”
“You’re so fucking sexy.” He yanks off his tee and starts working on his belt. “You got lube and a condom? I want you in me.”
Wow, his body is amazing. How much does he work out? Maybe hunting demons takes more muscle than I thought.
“Kieran!”
I snap back to reality. Right. Lube. “It’s in the bedroom.”
“Get it.”
I’m already on my way back to him before I realize we could have just both gone and taken advantage of my very comfortable bed. But then I see him standing in front of the couch, his long bronze limbs completely bare, his cock standing stiff. Who the fuck cares about a bed?
I toss the lube and condom onto the coffee table and tackle my pants. “Do you always bottom?”
He shakes his head, grabbing the tube of lube and squeezing some onto his fingers. “I’m vers. But I want you to be the boss of me tonight.”
I was already mostly hard, but those words make my dick so rigid, it aches. My pants drop to the floor, my boxer briefs with them, and I kick them away as Connor lifts his foot onto the couch and starts prepping himself.
“Fuck yeah,” I murmur, giving myself a stroke as I watch. He’s a lot more flexible than I would have expected of a man his size, and his muscles ripple with every movement.
“Condom,” he demands. “I’m nearly ready.”
My hand freezes halfway toward the condom. “Are you sure?” He only just started.
The slow smile that takes over his face has my hand jerking into motion once more. “I like to feel the burn.”
Oh, baby. I get that condom on in record time, but when I look up, he’s reclining on the couch, one leg hooked over the back, the other sprawled wide, giving me the best view ever.
“Come on, Kier. Don’t keep me waiting.”
“For someone who wants to be bossed, you’re very imperious.” I close the distance and crawl up between his legs.
“Imperious, hey? Does that make me an emperor in this situation, and you the—”
My mouth cuts him off, and while we kiss ravenously, I explore his killer body. It’s all hard planes and firm muscle, and his dick rubs against my thigh, leaving a wet trail.
“Are you comfortable like this?” I ask, tracing a hand up the leg hanging over the back of the couch.
“Oh yeah. I’m bendy.”
I file that away for future reference, running my hand down the back of his leg, over his ass cheek, and along his crease to his pucker. It clenches under my touch.
“You sure you’re ready?” I nudge my cock against his. “We could just—”
“I swear, Kieran, if you don’t—”
The firm press of my dick against his hole shuts him up. “The only things I want to hear from you right now are moans and my name,” I murmur against his mouth, and he obediently moans as I inch forward, breaching him so slowly, he has to feel every second of it.
We both gasp when I bottom out in him, our breath mingling.
“Wrap your legs around me,” I command, and he does, gripping me tight to his body.
It makes thrusting impossible, so instead I start a slow, steady grind, our hips writhing in a lewd, horizontal mimicry of dancing.
His cock, trapped between us, leaks copiously, easing the slide of our bodies.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever felt,” I whisper, and his ass tightens around me, eliciting a groan that rises from the soles of my feet.
“Kier,” he moans, and I grab his knee, loosening his hold on me.
“Turn over,” I order, holding the condom in place and pulling out, and although he pouts, he untangles himself from me and flips onto his knees, bracing his forearms on the armrest and laying his head on them.
I lightly slap his ass—it’s so rock solid, it barely moves—and push back inside him.
It’s only been a few seconds since I was there, but it feels like coming home.
Ignoring the implications of that, I pound into him, encouraged by the sounds he’s making, angling to hit his gland and earn his shout of pleasure.
“Kieran,” he yells, contracting hard on my cock, and I come, filling the condom, unable to hold back for a second longer.
When I can breathe again, I pull out and guide him over onto his back, then dip my head and swallow his dick down to the root.
He goes off immediately.
“Jesus,” he gasps after, his hand tangling in my hair where my head rests on his stomach. “We should need a license to do that.”
I lick along the delineation of his abs. “I’d pay whatever it took.” Wait… did I just say I’d pay for sex with him?
He must have the same thought, because his body shakes with a laugh. “I’ll give it to you for free anytime you want.” There’s a note of promise in his voice that has me lifting my head to meet those blazing blue eyes.
“Give me an hour to recover.”
After two hours in the car bickering with Connor about our respective tastes in music, I’m more than ready to get out and face down this maybe-girlfriend-sacrificing dickwad. But at the same time, I’m… happy. This has been fun.
I know it’s stupid to get attached to someone who’s not staying, whose job requires him to travel almost constantly and whose base is on the other side of the country, but it might be too late for that.
Because Connor said some truly assholish things about my musical preferences, and instead of wanting to rip out his tongue and shove it up his ass, I only wanted to slap him.
Instead of the rage he induced just a few days ago, I felt mild exasperation and even fondness.
Maybe the sex has made my brain go soft.
He is incredibly good at it.
We get out of the car, and Connor goes to the back.
He opens the rear door and digs in his kit, and when he straightens, he’s fastening a belt around his waist. Not a normal belt, though.
This one has holsters and straps all over it.
One side holds a heavy-looking knife. Dagger?
The hilt seems too ornate for it to be just a knife.
There’s also a Taser and a water pistol and a bunch of small pouches.
He untucks his shirt to cover some of it, but most of it’s still visible.
“I thought you said they hardly ever fight back?” I motion to the dagger.
He shrugs, slamming the rear door. “They don’t, but when they do, it’s usually painful. So stay behind me.”
That’s not at all reassuring.
“You can wait in the car,” he suggests. “That’s the safest option.”
No fucking way. “I want to look him in the eye,” I declare. “Even if he didn’t go on to summon anything, what he did to Emma was disgusting.”
Connor smirks. “You’ll get your chance to tell him what you think of him, no matter which way this goes.”
I follow him up the front path. The house Greg lives in is nice, and we’re in a pretty flash neighborhood. But then, when Emma knew Greg, he was the associate most likely to go places at the law firm they both worked for. Plus, there’s the chance he summoned a demon and bartered for gain.
Connor rings the bell. “My research shows that he’s widowered and lives alone now, though his son visits a few nights a week. His housekeeper comes on Mondays, so he should be alone.”
What the hell kind of research did Connor do with his computer to know that stuff? I don’t get the chance to ask before I hear footsteps approaching the door.
A man opens it and smiles at us. “Can I help you?” He’s too young to be Greg, who’s in his eighties—this guy looks twenty years younger. The son, maybe?
Connor sighs and reaches for one of the pouches on his belt. “Greg?”
“Yes. Who…?” His gaze tracks Connor’s movement, and then his face transforms and he lunges forward, hissing.
I leap back and nearly fall down the three shallow steps behind me. Connor, however, has already moved to engage. He slaps whatever he pulled out of the pouch against the skin of Greg’s neck, then pushes him into the house and follows, glancing back at me. “Come on.”
I hustle inside after them, closing the door behind me. We probably don’t want people seeing this.
Greg stands slumped in the middle of the entranceway, suddenly looking a lot older and more frail than when he opened the door, while Connor’s spritzing him with whatever’s in the water pistol.
It smells fresh and herby. I have so many questions, but I don’t want to risk distracting Connor and having things go wrong.
“How many times?” Connor asks, and Greg scowls.
“I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“That’s true, but if you don’t, I’ll just assume the maximum and treat you accordingly. Which will hurt. So try not to be any more of a stupid ass than you have been, and just answer the question.”
Why is this such a turn-on? Connor’s literally bullying an old man—albeit one who summoned demons and planned to murder his girlfriend—and I’m getting all hot.
“I don’t remember,” Greg mutters.
“A lot, then. How many blood sacrifices?”
Sullen silence. A chill races over me. I was so fixated on what he almost did to Emma that it didn’t occur to me that he might have actually done it to someone else.
“You’re despicable.” The words are torn from my throat. Greg and Connor both look at me. “You disgust me. I’m glad I get to be part of your downfall.”