I returnto the penthouse with a ton of groceries, but my timing is terrible. Isaac is on the phone, shouting. I can hear him from the kitchen through the closed terrace door. Never having heard him raise his voice, it rattles my already frayed nerves. I unpack the groceries with one eye on the terrace where he’s pacing, pointing, and gesturing angrily.
“You try that, and I swear to fucking god, I’ll have your ass thrown in jail for kidnapping.”
I’m assuming he’s not talking to Evan, then.
My brows furrow, but I do my best to mind my own business and tune him out. A groan coming from the back of the penthouse, turns my head.
Fuck.
Hesitantly, I take a few steps toward the guest room, but my steps falter. Jake doesn’t know me. I don’t know him. I don’t have anything to offer him. I can’t give him anything for pain because what if he’s already had something? I could take him some water, but what if he needs to pee? I turn to the terrace doors instead, approaching with uncertainty.
Luckily, Isaac is hanging up the call as I open the door. He looks wild, eyes full of fury and another emotion I can’t put a name to, but I feel it. It feels accusatory. Painful.
“Deacon,” he whispers, my name hoarse.
“I think Jake might need you.”
“Did he say what’s wrong?”
“I didn’t go in.”
He scowls but then gives his head a quick shake. “Thanks.” He moves past me into the penthouse. Before I have the door closed, he’s already turning the corner, disappearing into the bedroom hallway. I stand there feeling fucking useless until I remember there are groceries that need to be put into the fridge, and I had plans to make chicken and rice soup.
Forcing my legs to move, I return to the kitchen.
Isaac comes back half an hour or so later. He walks right over to me while I’m chopping celery and places a warm hand on the back of my neck.
I turn to him, and before I can blink, he’s pulling me in for a kiss. It’s sudden, and deep. I drop the knife on the cutting board and grab him by the hips. His kiss is hungry, but his cock is soft as mine stiffens to grind against his crotch. I don’t know what that means. I don’t know what he needs.
He undoes my pants, shoving his hand inside and wrapping it around my erection. I grunt. He tugs at my lower lip before dropping to his knees on the kitchen floor. Speechless, I stare down at him as he feeds himself my dick, taking it deep and sucking hard. I grip the countertop. Unable to keep my hips from bucking forward, he chokes, and my cock falls from his lips, covered in long strands of drool.
Without looking up or saying a thing, he uses his hand to stuff it back in his mouth. Using his other hand, he takes hold of mine and places it on the back of his head.
I don’t know what to do. I’ve never seen him like this. Sparks zap up my spine as he bobs his tight mouth up and down my shaft. His tongue swirls and wraps around it, reminding me of a constricting snake. As more and more of my length is surrounded by the wet heat of his mouth, he lets go of my base to roughly massage my balls.
“Jesus,” I groan, my fist clenching in his hair. He makes a noise that feels like approval, so I tentatively thrust my hips again. This time, he takes it, suffocating my crown in his tightening throat. Another long, low noise escapes me. It feelstoogood. I try to yank his head back, but right now, he’s stronger than I am, and he forces his lips to my pubic bone, choking loudly on my dick in this throat.
As saliva coats my balls, making them slippery in his hand, I come with a gasp, my back arching as he takes me deep, swallowing convulsively on each gush of cum I release. It feels unsurvivable. I feel set on fire at the same time as I’m being drained. Everything is hot and my mouth is bone dry as I burn.
A whimper escapes me, and I clap my hand over my mouth before it turns into something extreme like a sob. I’ve never felt anything like this, and while it’s extraordinary—it’s also terrifying. When will it end?
He pulls off me suddenly, taking huge breaths and wiping his chin as he looks up at me with hooded, dark eyes. I tuck my dick, which feels like it’s been electrocuted, back into my pants. “Are you all right?” I manage in a whisper.
He’s still catching his breath as he reaches for the countertop to haul himself up from the floor. “Better. Yeah.”
“Need anything else?”
He looks me up and down. “If you’re offering…”
“Anything,” I tell him.
He studies my undone fly a moment longer then shakes his head. “I shouldn’t.”
That only makes me want it more.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says.
I deserve to hurt.“You won’t.” I shove the bottle of olive oil his way before facing the counter and dropping my pants again.
