Page 43 of Ransom
I reached down and shoved my spit wet fingers into his hole.
He gasped and arched, and I caught his hair with my free hand and held him still.
"Quiet," I said.
"You said —"
"I changed my mind."
His spit wasn't enough, and we both knew it. I worked him a minute anyway, watching his face, watching him try to be quiet and fail, before I leaned over him and got the lube from the drawer. I slicked my fingers properly and went back in, three this time, and he cursed and shoved back onto my hand.
"Fucking hell, that's —"
"That's what?"
"More."
"Greedy."
"Yeah."
I pulled my fingers out and took my jeans the rest of the way off. He watched me do it from the bed, his chest heaving, his cock leaking on his stomach, the marks I'd put on him already coming up purple.
I climbed onto the bed and slid a hand under his thigh and pushed one knee up to his chest. His other leg I hooked over my shoulder. He grabbed the sheets above his head with both hands. I spat in my palm and slicked myself with it and lined up.
"Look at me," I said.
He did, eyes widening as I pushed in.
He groaned and his head went back, and I caught his jaw in my hand and turned his face back to mine.
"I said look at me."
His eyes came back green and blown wide. I bottomed out and held there, watching him, and his mouth fell open and I leaned down and spit in it.
He swallowed.
"Good," I said, low. "There's my Ranger."
I pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in.
He cried out and grabbed the sheets harder, and I did it again. The bed frame hit the wall. The flowers on the nightstandjumped. I set a pace that was mean from the first stroke, no easing, no warming up, just all of it, every thrust, and Winston took it and asked for more between his teeth.
I leaned down over him, chest to chest, my hand still on his jaw. "Tell me what you came up here to do."
"Already told you."
"Tell me again."
"Came up here to kill him." He spat the words out as I drove into him. "Crossed state lines. No badge. No case. No backup."
"You're a filthy liar, Ranger."
"Fuck you."
He hung there, full of me, panting, his hands locked white-knuckled in the sheets. I stayed there and watched him decide. His cock pulsed against my stomach untouched.
"You are. Say it."
