Chapter 18 #2
He pushes my jacket off my shoulders and drops it to the desk, then pulls my sweater up. We break our kiss just long enough for him to toss it onto the desktop, where it can join the jacket.
God, I love the taste of him and the feel of his stubble against my jaw as he devours me. My fingers fumble with his tie, undoing it and sliding it out from underneath his collar. He leans closer in, grinding against me as he unbuttons my shirt.
I make quick work of his belt and trousers, pushing them and his boxers over his hips. He moans loudly into my mouth when he feels my fingers wrap around his cock and grip him firmly.
He’s so hard.
I pull back, panting against his mouth. “Please tell me you have supplies because I’m desperate to have you back inside me.”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he gives me one last filthy kiss and steps back, fumbling in his jacket, which is hanging over the back of his chair. While he retrieves a lube packet and a condom, I slide off the table and undo my belt.
I don’t think either of us are feeling very patient right now. My cock aches as I shove my trousers and briefs down my thighs and spin around, bending over the desk. I glance back over my shoulder, giving my dick a little tug while I watch Sam put the condom on and then coat his fingers in lube.
I groan loudly as he strokes my hole and slips one finger inside me. “Fuck, Sam,” I pant.
“That’s the plan.” He leans over me and chuckles against my back.
“Hurry up.”
“So demanding,” he croons. “Don’t worry, Prickles. I’ll give you what you need.”
It doesn’t take long for him to open me up, and by the time he pulls back and slicks his cock, I’m squirming to get him inside me.
He shoves my shirt up my back and presses his lips to my bare skin, notches the head of his cock against my entrance, and sinks in.
“Fuck,” I gasp out as he stretches me wide. He stills so I can adjust to the intrusion.
“God, I fucking love these freckles,” he breathes against my back, trailing his hot lips across my shoulders.
“Sam, move,” I pant. “Please.”
“You ready for me, Prickles? Because I’m not going to go easy on you.”
“I don’t want easy.” I moan when he pulls out and slides back in. “I want you to hold me down and fuck me hard.”
“Such a dirty mouth,” he murmurs, but I can feel his smile against my skin. “You’d better hold on to something.”
I reach up and grab the far edge of the desk as he pulls out almost to the tip, then thrusts back in. His fingers grip my hips hard enough to leave marks, and I can’t help the sound that tears from my lips when he starts up a punishing pace.
It’s perfect.
He shifts slightly and nails my prostate head on. I know I’m getting too loud when he curls over me and covers my mouth with his palm. It somehow just makes it even hotter. I’m pinned to his desk, held down by his body weight, his hand keeping me quiet, and I’ve never been so turned on in my life.
Granted, I was a late starter, but fucking hell. I can’t imagine ever wanting anyone the way I want Sam.
The legs of the desk scrape loudly against the floorboards, and the desk itself shifts with the movement of his pistoning hips.
So good, so good, so good, is all I can think with every pounding as he fucks me hard.
My stomach tightens, lightning races down my spine, and my orgasm rips through me with no warning. I come fast, hands free, and so hard I feel dizzy.
“Fuck, Prickles,” he growls when my internal muscles squeeze his cock.
He pushes himself up, presses one hand between my shoulder blades to keep me pinned to the desk, and rides me hard, letting out a loud shout when he comes. I can feel his cock pulsing and I know I’m going to feel this tomorrow, but I don’t care.
Totally. Worth. It.
Sam collapses against my back, breathing heavily.
“Holy shit, Prickles.”
My voice is muffled from where my face is smooshed against the desktop. “I think I ruined your case files.”
I can feel Sam shaking as he laughs.
He pulls out slowly and helps me stand. I look down at a couple of the manila folders that have taken a direct hit.
“Whoops.” I wince.
“It’s fine, Prickles, don’t worry about it. I’ve got spares. As long as the notes inside are good, I can switch them out.”
He hands me a box of tissues so I can clean myself up, then I wipe the folders as best as I can. “Sorry.”
After tying off the condom, he wraps it in a tissue and chucks it in the bin. Then he tips my chin up so I’m looking into his eyes when he drops a soft kiss on my lips.
“Totally worth it. We just won’t tell Hadley.”
I huff out a laugh and start to straighten my clothes, as does Sam. I’m just pulling my sweater back on when my gaze lands on a chart pinned to the wall behind his desk, one I’d missed when I first walked in.
It looks like some kind of timeline with colour-coded dates. There are a handful of them sparsely scattered, but the bulk of them seem to be centred around one date in particular.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the chart.
“It’s a timeline of all the paranormal cases.
I asked each of them when they first noticed abilities developing.
Each colour represents a different gift, telepathy, dream-walking, the power of suggestion, visions.
Although some are more recent, like Riley’s developing in the last six months, the majority of them started here.
” He points to a specific date. “There’s nothing before then, so something significant must have occurred at this point. ”
I stare at the date, unease settling in my stomach.
“What?” Sam asks.
“That’s the day I arrived in London,” I say quietly. “What are the odds? A coincidence like that?”
He stares at me for several long seconds. “Coincidence,” he repeats as he studies my face. “You know,” he says almost conversationally, “the other day, Danny and I managed to track down one of the nurses who was on duty the night Vivienne gave birth to her son.”
My spine stiffens, and I casually edge around the desk to put some space between us.
“What has that got to do with it?”
He purses his lips. “She said that the kid was delivered by a young doctor who left the hospital’s employment abruptly after and moved out of London. With. His. Husband.”
“You think there aren’t loads of gay doctors in London?”
“She said his name was Hayden.”
“A common name.”
“Harrison,” he says, and his tone makes my stomach churn. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
I involuntarily clamp my lips together and shake my head defiantly.
“You’ve been so adamant all along that Vivienne’s son had nothing to do with her death.
How could you possibly know that?” He tilts his head as he watches me.
“You know, I’ve asked myself so many times what the connection is between you and the Crawshanks, an extremely powerful magical family.
You. Why is it you’re able to see Cordelia’s memories? ”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
Why is he doing this now? Why do I have to claim kinship to a woman who never wanted me and to a family that have caused nothing but trouble for centuries? These past few weeks have been the best of my life, despite the murder investigation hanging over everything.
Sam and I have connected in a way I never thought I’d have. Someone who accepts what I am, not only accepts but understands. Being lovers, being friends, being partners while we investigate these paranormal cases has been beyond perfect.
I don’t want everyone to know I’m the son Vivienne abandoned. I just want it all to go away. I want to stay in my perfect little bubble with Sam.
“You know I didn’t get it at first.”
“Get what?” I can’t help but ask.
He turns around and retrieves a paper tube, but when he unrolls it and spreads it out on the desk, I see it’s a map of London.
It’s marked with a multitude of coloured dots, just like the timeline mounted on the wall, only it’s locations this time.
There are some rogue ones on the outskirts, but overall there are two main clusters.
“This”—Sam points to the first cluster—“is centred around the Crawshanks property in Whitechapel. And this”—he points to the second–“is Islington.” He lets the map go, and it rolls back up as he looks at me. “It’s centred around your shop…around you.”
“Sam.” I move my lips, but almost no sound comes out.
“I’m going to ask you again, Harrison. Is there something you want to tell me?”
I can’t speak. Can’t even shake my head in denial.
“I’ve respected your boundaries. I’ve never asked you about your birth mother or the circumstances of your adoption because I figured it was private and you’d tell me if you wanted to.
I want to give you that space, Harrison, I do.
But can’t you see how dangerous it is? If Danny and Tristan are right and Viv’s killer is hell-bent on opening the demon trap and setting Ishaan loose, then Viv’s son is in very real danger of being kidnapped or even killed. ”
It’s too hot in here.
I can’t breathe.
I need to get out.
“I can’t do this.” I shake my head.
How can I be responsible for the surge of supernatural abilities? Why are they centred around me and the Whitechapel bookshop? Sam’s right. It is dangerous. I’m dangerous. And he needs to stay far away from me until I can figure it out.
“Harrison,” Sam says as I grab my jacket and pick up the lunch box containing the cursed rabbit’s foot.
“No, I can’t do this right now.” I head towards the door and pull it open. I hear Sam move towards me, and I stop, turning to face him. “I’m not him,” I tell him desperately. “I’m not Sage Wilson.”
I’m Harrison, I tell myself as I storm out, slamming the door behind me.
I’ve pretty certain I’ve just ruined the best thing in my life, but I’m terrified that if I don’t run, I’ll drag Sam down with me. I won’t let him become another victim of the Crawshanks Curse.
I’d rather die first.