For some reason I’m immediately back to thinking about Oscar on his knees and Kira watching us.“Nobody I spend the night with leaves unsatisfied.”
Laughter bubbles up her throat to tinkle inside my ears.Her smile is wide and mocking.“You’re an ass,” she says, sliding her hand down from where it was to rest upon the top of my rear.Our gazes lock.“Mighty full of yourself too.”
“Are you saying you don’t think I’m up to much in the sack?”
The tip of her nose wrinkles as she considers.“I’m sure you know what you like and you’re full of confidence.”She twirls beneath our arms before pressing in close to me again.
“But?”I enquire, because there’s definitely abutat the end of her sentence.Also, she still has her hand resting on mine.
“Selfish, I reckon.”
I raise both brows to suggest I’m shocked by the suggestion, but her assertion doesn’t generate a genuine sting.“I guess you’ll never find out,” I say.
Her smile loses some of its elasticity, like she’s just now remembering why that is.“Lucky for me.You’re walking talking trouble, Dylan Drake, and I don’t involve myself in that sort of nonsense other than in a working capacity.If any crazy idiot shows up and tries anything on, I’ll be right here to defend you, but I don’t enjoy that sort of drama in my private life.”
I believe her sincerity, but refrain from telling her that safe is definitely not how I feel around her, or that the biggest danger shaking my world right now is her.There are butterflies doing a tango in my stomach from the way her thigh brushes mine when we make each turn, and her hand on my arse is making my dick extra twitchy.The worst part is that I’m not altogether sure whether she’s oblivious to that fact, or if she’s testing me deliberately.I’m almost tempted to push back in order to determine that.
“Are you anticipating someone stabbing me in the arse?”
She flutters her fingers, but doesn’t move her hand.“Is this not the correct position?You’ll have to forgive me my ignorance.Is there somewhere else you’d prefer me to put my hand?”
Unfathomably, yes.Wrapped around my dick and working some of the tension from it.
When did being given a handjob by a girl become a thing that cranks my horn?
This woman’s a witch or something.She’s hexed me, or is somehow in the process of brainwashing me in order to recruit me for the other side.I’m not sure she’s working for Falchard at all.Maybe she’s a mole within his team, planted there by the bigoted god-botherers outside.Her true mission is to cure me of my queerness and turn me into a respectably straight man, thus proving anyone can be cured of their perversity if they’re willing to embrace God’s truth.
It’s a scheme just about ludicrous enough to be real.
The only inexplicable part is how could they possibly know Kira would affect me the way she is?
No other person has ever caused me to question my identity, and some of them tried bloody hard.
Is that what I’m doing, questioning myself?
Jeez, I know who and what I am.That’s why I’m here, about to address the crowd in support of a charity that’s embraced me as their patron with as much heartfelt affection as they show the kids they watch out for.Kids, who like me, end up in dark places through no fault of their own because they can’t change who they are inside.
“You’ve gone awful quiet, Dylan.Is there something you need to tell me?A threat?”
“What are you doing to me?”
“What am I…?”She takes a pace back, breaking the contact between us.“I’m protecting you.Exactly as I’ve been hired to do.”
“Dylan?You look rattled.What’s the problem?”
She makes a quick survey of those around us, even going so far as to turn her head to ensure there’s no danger coming from behind.
“I’m not rattled, I’m fine.”
“No.You’re twitchy.I’m trained to notice this stuff.What’s the problem?”
“You.”
“What?”
“What are you doing to me?”
She closes the gap between us again, and reaches up to touch my face near to where the cut lies from earlier.I don’t want her to touch me, yet simultaneously crave it with every ounce of my being.I lean in to the caress of her fingertips.I’m such a glutton for punishment.
