“Do you have a problem?” I ask him, focusing on keeping my face and tone as serious as I would with anyone else.
The atmosphere in the room is getting more tense with each passing moment as everybody else looks between me, Fallow, and Lucky.
Fallow fuckingsnorts, pulling his hand away from his face and then leaning back to look at me with a smile.
“No,” he says, his voice soft. “No, sir. You’re very scary. I’m sure we’re all very impressed. If you’d also like to take out your penis and start banging it on the table, we can watch that as well.”
He gives me a wicked grin, and I bite back an exasperated moan.
Jesus fucking Christ. He’s going to be the death of me, and I’ve only known him for a few hours.
Now everyone looks even more bewildered and uncomfortable, so I decide to cut my losses and call it.
“Look, just… fuck. Lucky: bodies. Trav and Buzz: burn down the building and the truck and be careful not to set the fucking surroundings on fire. Everyone else: stay on high alert and check in with any contacts you might have to find out what they’re planning. And Fallow will be here for a while, I promised his old man we would keep him safe, and that man basically owns the Banna worldwide, so you are all implicated in this if we fuck up.But also, I think you should ignore every word that comes out of his mouth. Got it?”
There’s a general nodding and mumbles of agreement as the ones with assignments get up to leave, but I’m looking straight at Fallow. He’s the one I need to listen to me and start keeping his mouth shut. I didn’t just get promoted in order to get outed by some pixie-looking murderer from across an ocean, and I don’t like being the one who’s not in control.
I’ll make it clear to him. He’s smiling at me still like there’s no chance of that, but I will. I’ll show him who’s the boss around here, and he’ll have to fall in line.
Eventually.
Chapter Four
Fallow
The meeting wasn’t actually finished, much to my dismay. Someone like me was not meant for meetings. Pedantry, in general, makes me want to rip my skin off.
So, I focus my attention on Colm while he rambles about Aryans and blood feuds, and everything else I couldn’t give two fucks about. BecauseColm—despite the fact that he tried to hide his identity from me like a sneaky little bitch—is more intriguing than he should be. There’s an even, imperturbable air that he manages to maintain, even when his temper is beginning to fray.
He’s controlled. Too controlled. It makes me want to claw through all that mild-mannered-mafioso bullshit until I can watch his brain unhinge itself and spill the contents all over the floor. I want to cause pressure that fizzes inside of him so relentlessly, he’s forced to crack. And then I want to devour everything that spills out. It’s been a long time since I’vehungeredfor someone quite like this.
I lick my lips, realizing I’ve let myself get too carried away with my thoughts, and now I’m breathing a little more heavilythan I should as blood begins to fill my cock. Realizing it doesn’t make me stop, though. I keep staring at Colm, tracing the way each thick body part he owns moves through the air. Now he’s staring back at me, a frown marring his expression and his gaze fixed on my chest.
He’s watching me breathe. He doesn’t miss a beat in whatever he’s rambling about, but he’s staring at me as my chest heaves and I get closer and closer to panting for him like a dog. The tingle of arousal is quickly taking over my entire body, forcing my blood to rush through my ears and drown out any droplet of sense I may have still contained. I reach down to adjust my erection, already close to full-mast, and sink into all the sensations.
I can picture him on his knees for me. Bent over for me. Bleeding for me, then staying perfectly still while I paint my body with it before fucking him raw.
That. That’s what I need right now.
That’s the exact palate cleanser I’ve been looking for to revive myself after weeks of pointless, bloody murders and dead-end leads.
Thinking about that makes my mind brush up against memories of why I came here in the first place, which begins to bleed stress into my cloud of arousal. I beat back the stress with a fucking stick, because I deserve this. I’m out of leads and I’m exhausted. I need to refuel.
And the expression Colm makes when he’s pretending he’s unaffected by me, even though I can see his fingers twitching to reach out… it’s like fucking jet fuel. I could fly to space on this feeling.
By the time I wake up from my fog, I realize we’re finally alone in the room. Colm is still staring at me from across the table like he can’t decide if he wants to snap my neck or suck on it—as if I’d let him do either—and everyone else seems to haveslipped out. I distantly realize that I still have a hand resting on my dick from when I adjusted myself before, still rock hard, and everyone probably saw exactly where my head was at.
Judging by Colm’s expression, he’s not happy about it.
Delicious.
“How was the meeting?” I ask, leaning my chair back to kick my feet up on the table, while leaving my hand exactly where it belongs. I even let my fingers massage my shaft through the denim for a few seconds, hissing at the sensation. I’m too keyed up not to. “I think I zoned out a little there. Did you solve all the problems and scold the naughty mafia brats until they listened to you properly?”
There’s a flex of skin that I can just see as Colm seems to clench and unclench his fists where they rest on the table.
Yes. Just try it, little torture victim.
For a second, I think he really is about to try something. Then his expression shutters, his body stays stiff but not aggressive, and he pushes himself up abruptly from the chair. Without a word to me, he turns around and walks out of the room.
