Page 65 of Bulletproof

“I’m gonna leave the police force, J, and do what I’ve always wanted and become a deputy US marshal. I got my paperwork, and it cleared. We can stay right here in Chicago, and even though it ain’t an eight-hour-a-day job, it’s not a three-months-away job either. I will protect people, and I’m good at that. You know I’m good at that.”

I nodded, so happy, so relieved. My life could stay as it was. “I got a new job too.”

“Yeah?” He smiled at me and then groaned as I moved, pressing my hardened cock against his groin.

“Detective,” I said softly, my voice low, deep, sensual, “please, take off your clothes.”

He scrambled off the bed, which made me laugh, and I watched the man get naked as fast as he could. I enjoyed seeing all the sleek skin, the rippling muscles, the body I knew that housed the man I loved, all power and strength.

When he was naked, he dived back onto the bed. I was laughing as he grabbed me, and I was crushed in a vise, covered in warm, silky flesh.

“Grab the lube. I want you buried to your balls in my ass right fucking now. Hurry up.”

So fast. He moved so fast and had the long, hard, thick length of him coated in slippery lubricant in seconds. I lifted my legs, and he rocked forward so my knees draped over his shoulders before, without any preparation, he slid inside my needy, waiting hole.

I didn’t clench up. Instead, I relaxed my muscles because it was the second time in one night, and I hoped to God it wouldn’t be the last.

His head fell back as he filled me, thrusting, driving, his rhythm like it had been earlier, hammering and hard. He was still frantic trembling with desire, and I loved how necessary I was. I grabbed my rigid shaft, which was already leaking, and tugged, feeling how close I was all over again.

Sex with us wasn’t normally so hungry. It was more about love than passion, but I remembered when it had only been frenzied and ravenous, and so I responded. We would get back to the bonding that it had been before he left, but I would take the rutting, the primal animal claiming, as well. I would always accept whatever Sam Kage gave me.

“Mine,” he growled, his voice deep and husky.

And even though I knew I was, it was still so good to hear.

He was done.

The man I loved was passed out in our bed, and I was so happy that I would have flipped cartwheels down the hall if I knew how to do one. When my phone rang, I left the room to answer it because I didn’t want him to wake up and leave me.

“Hello?”

“I’m downstairs, and I wanna see you,” Cristo Liron said.

Shit.

“I’m going to bed.”

“I want,” he said, enunciating the words, “to see you.”

But I couldn’t. If he saw me at that moment—lips swollen and red, hair tousled, covered in hickeys, scraped from stubble—he’d know I had not simply had a tryst in the back of a club. Sam left marks—always had, and I hoped always would—and because they were fresh, they stood out sharply on my skin. I looked debauched, and if he came up …

“You already judged me once tonight. I think that’s enough.”

“Whatever you needed, I could have given it to you. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“I’m not that kind of friend—never have been, never will be.”

“I wanna come up.”

“Not at one in the morning,” I told him. “And not after how you were at the club.”

“I was mad.”

“Fine, be mad, but that doesn’t make me want to let you up.”

“I fuckin’ hate this, Jory. Do you have any idea how frustrating you are?”

“Why? Because I won’t sleep with you? Give it a rest already. Go find some hot twink who wants to be your boy and set him up with a condo and an expense account.”