That’s my bluff called.
“What do you think?” he asked, his carefully neutral look obliterated by the glint in his eyes.
I gulped. “Um…” I squeezed gently and nearly choked on my tongue. I had not been nearly generous enough in my imaginings of his cock. Detective Rafferty was packing serious heat. “Damn.”
For all of my antics, it occurred to me that Rafferty was the one calling the shots. Probably had been this entire time.
He held my gaze as he slipped the towel from my waist. For a second, his eyes flicked over the bruises and healing scrapes, as if to determine whether I’d break under his hands.
I can take whatever you dish out, Detective.
Only when the towel lay at my feet did he shift his focus to my erection.
“Seriously?” I asked, trying to catch up.
I mean, I wasn’t going to look a gift cock in the mouth, but I had to wonder if I was actually dead at the bottom of the lake and this was some sort of make-a-wish situation before I was carted off to hell.
His eyes went onyx with desire. “As long as you’re into it.”
If you only knew.
“Oh, I’m into it.” I ran my hand through my wet hair, shaking out the limp curls. “It’s a little fucked up, but I don’t mind.”
“Good.”
He sat heavily on the closed toilet, then pulled mebetween his legs. Leaning forward, he nosed my cock and inhaled deeply.
“You pick up anything in prison?”
I snorted. “I was a monk in prison and fucked up anyone who thought they could change that.”
“Goodboy,” he said on a deep rumble that set off a thousand more goose bumps. “Did you wash your ass?”
What, am I new here?
“You could eat a four-course meal off my ass.”
“Excellent.”
He took my cock into his hot mouth, and it lit my hair on fire. I nearly lost my goddamned balance.
Fuck, fuck,fuck.
Heady with thewhat the absolute fuckof it all, I took another swig of vodka as he sucked on me. Setting the heavy bottle on the tank behind him, I then used both hands to run my fingers through his thick hair, and it was even better than I’d imagined. He slurped and moaned while twisting his tongue around my length.
Fuuuuck.
After a few more deep sucks, he pulled off and rose from the toilet, then manhandled me—carefully, with gentle hands—facing me against the window.
“Grab the sill,” he ordered.
God help me, I did.
He pushed his sweats and underwear to the floor with a softwhoosh. I looked back as he stepped out of the clothing. His heavy, wickedly curved cock was ruddy with need.
“Fucking hell, dude.”
“You’ve had a rough evening.” He stroked his dick and sent me an arch look. “I can go back to sucking your dick if you’d prefer.”
