“I’ll get right on that.”
Mickey didn’t know what else to say, and the ensuing silence was surprisingly awkward. This was supposed to be the easy part, but Roger was looking at him so damn expectantly, and Mickey had no idea what to think.
Maybe he should stay, he thought. Being rough like that probably needed a special kind of attention, but he couldn’t bring himself to offer any.
As if reading his thoughts, Roger said dryly, “If you’re worried about me because you smacked my ass around and rode it like a stolen tricycle, don’t. I’m fine.”
“I’m not. Just trying to figure out the safest way to leave you so you don’t try to pick another fuckin’ fight.”
“There will be no fighting. I don’t have pants on.”
“Right.” Mickey cleared his throat. “See ya’ around, Roger.”
“Good night, Mickey.” Roger grinned. “Thanks for givin’ me the chills.”
Yeah, definitely not fuckin’ staying.
Not that Mickey was going to anyway, but the reference to that damn song immediately eliminated any chance in hell that he would have.
Without another word, he left the motel. He leaned back in his seat, taking his time and enjoying the drive. It wasn’t often he let himself relax, but he had earned it after today. They’d dealt a major blow against the Luchesis, and hell, he’d even gotten laid.
He smiled when he thought of how Roger had begged for his cock, and the rush of power he’d experienced had been incredible. He’d had some good sex before, but apparently he’d been missing out.
All sorts of fantasies sprung to mind, everything from spanking Roger over his knee to making him crawl on the floor. He could probably make him do just about anything, and his face was starting to get hot thinking of ways to punish him.
Shit.
He turned on the radio to distract himself, and he redirected his thoughts to the takeover ahead. He didn’t know what Cold had planned for them next, but he was determined to be ready for anything.
He also made a mental note to call Duncan tomorrow and give him a good piece of his mind for locking the keys in his car.
Mickey felt different when he got home. His body was heavy, a familiar sensation from having such an intense fuck, but there was something else. It was a vivid satisfaction, a creeping hum beneath his skin he’d only ever experienced after a hit.
Weird he was having it now.
He checked on his grandfather, found him sleeping, and got ready for bed. He cleaned his guns, made a sandwich, and then took a quick shower.
After putting on some shorts, he got into bed. He couldn’t drift off right away, looking up at the ceiling as his thoughts continued to wander. The vision of a smooth ceiling above his head was much better than the popcorn one he used to stare at from his ratty couch.
He trusted Cold and respected him for doing right by him all these months, and he couldn’t wait for the rest of his plan to come together. They were going to have power and wealth, and he wouldn’t have to worry about how he was going to take care of his grandfather ever again.
It wasn’t going to be easy, but nothing in Mickey’s life ever had been.
Well, except for sleeping with Roger, he mused.
That would be even easier to do again.
Mickey allowed himself to fantasize, and he was just closing his eyes when he heard his phone ring. It was Cold, and he picked up right away.
“Hey, Boss.”
“Hello. Thank you for your extraordinary work today. I appreciate it very much.”
“Always.”
“Jules made the delivery successfully and is being taken care of. Thought you’d like to know.”
“Good. Thank you.”
