Page 43 of Villains Never Die

“Come with me.” I finally let go of him to lead him into my bedroom, where he hovered in the doorway. “What are you waiting for?”

He nodded to the clothes he’d just teased me about. I had thrown my shirt and pants back on before he arrived. Rook’s eyes burned into my back as I untucked my shirt, slid each button from its hole, and draped it carefully over the chair in the corner. My pants were next, and when I bared my backside to him, he made a noise of appreciation. Naked, my cock straining, I turned toward him and found that he’d already removed his own clothes and stood stroking himself, his breaths loud and heavy.

“Come here,” I said, beckoning him toward me. I sat on the edge of the bed and spread my legs. He knelt between them and kissed the inside of each of my thighs, his eyes burning as they refused to leave mine. At the sight of him on his knees for me, my head fogged, any coherence I had left floating away like clouds. Luckily, it seemed Rook wasn’t here for conversation or witty banter tonight. He licked the length of my cock and swirled his tongue over the slit, his fingers gripping me just below the head.

When the sensation of his hand moving became too much, I held his shoulder and urged him onto the bed so that we were lying on our sides facing each other. I reached for him at the same time I grasped myself, stroking our cocks together until he made the most delicious little whimper.

Rook. The fighter. The hardass I’d seen in that cage. The one feared and respected enough to attempt to take the crown from me in this city’s underworld.

Hewhimpered.

“Not yet,” he said, and it almost sounded like begging; a plea for this not to end too soon.

I pulled him closer and the soft flesh of our cocks rubbed against one another. I rolled my hips into his, testing the weight of their movement. An image of myself buried deep in his ass flashed behind my eyes and my moan escaped despite my attempt to hold it in. Fuck it. Let him know the effect he had on me. I suspected he already did, and I was the one who invited him here.

His fingers closed around me, applying the right amount of pressure to coax another one of those moans, but when I studied his face, there was no cocky amusement anymore, just hunger and focus.

I touched him, testing pressure until I found the grip that wobbled that focus for a moment. We pumped each other, pushing one another toward release, and the urge to hold his opposite hand swept over me. I grabbed it, squeezing his knuckles between mine, holding on and noticing the roughness of his palm. His mouth formed a startled little ‘o’ before he adjusted his grip so he held me like an anchor.

My chest squeezed in an unfamiliar way—a longing, a craving for him to stay longer than it took for me to milk him dry. And a stranger, deeper feeling, like a part of him breaking off andcatching in my ribs—like he’d burrowed there and I couldn’t rid myself of him now.

He came first, blasting cum across my chest and the sheets between us, but he finished me just after. Both of us lay breathing loudly in the quiet, our hands still grasped and the mess between us of little concern to me.

He leaned across, and when he kissed me, it was with a softness I didn’t recognize. We didn’t shower together, but washed separately. I changed the sheets while he steamed up my bathroom and acknowledged that desire for him wedged firmly in my chest.

Clean and dried, we were closer when we found ourselves beneath my sheets. When I glanced over, Rook had one arm bent behind his head on my pillow.

“What are we doing?” I asked. We’d turned the lamps off and the room was dark enough for me to find the words to wonder aloud what the hell this was.

“We’re lying in your bed.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

He rolled over, and I couldn’t see him well, but I could feel his gaze and the warmth of his breath gliding across my face.

“Why do we have to call it something? I’m still a fan of ‘allies with benefits’ though,” he laughed.

“Do you take anything seriously?”

“Not with you.” He shifted, and it moved the sheets around our legs. “It’s refreshing, actually. I don’t get to relax very often. Too many people want me dead. Do you ever let yourself have any fun?”

I tried to think of the last time I had fun or smiled or laughed when it wasn’t to impress someone or intimidate them.

I came up with nothing.

“I don’t even know anything about you,” I said, avoiding his question altogether.

“What do you want to know?”

“I don’t even know your real name. I assume it’s not ‘Rook.’”

The laugh he huffed ruffled my messy hair. “It’s Carter. Carter Cross.”

My eyebrows drew down, my face pinching. “That name is ridiculous. It sounds like a superhero.”

“Well, it’s the one my mother gave me. But I agree. I prefer ‘Rook.’ What about you,Austin? Do you have a last name or is this a Madonna situation?”

“Jones,” I grumbled. “About as bland as surnames come.”