True for all things in life.
Glancing back at the shop as we walk through the plaza to get outside, I ask, “How’d you find that place?”
“Jericho.”
“Jer?” That… makes no sense. “He doesn’t have any tattoos and piercings. The fuck is he going there for? Did he screw one of the artists?” I believe it. Before he met his four guys, he didn’t exactly keep it in his pants, the flirt.
Kendrick snorts. “Not that I’m aware of. Apparently, it’s where Sebastian got his eyebrow piercing, and they came here last week.”
“Did he get a tattoo?” I don’t remember seeing bandages on him anywhere. Well, anywhere I can see, which still leaves a lot to the imagination. Six and Greer are the exhibitionists, not Jericho.
“He did not. You know he doesn’t like having identifying marks. Two of his guys—Will and Quinn, I think—got some piercings.”
“Well, now I’m curious.” Piercingswhereexactly? “Aren’t those the two cops?” Can’t be a face piercing, then. Maybe ears, but that seems too tame. No, I bet they got interesting piercings. Really interesting ones.
“You can keep that curiosity to yourself,” Kendrick growls.
That hit a nerve, which means he knows what they got. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“I’m not getting a piercing,” is all he says.
Kind of a weird comment, but okay? What does he mean by that?
It takes me until we get home to work it out and put all the pieces together. “Holy crap, they pierced theirdicks? C’mon, Ken, you wouldn’t do that for me?”
“They didn’t.”
That statement is way too deliberate. “One of them did.” How come Jericho told him, and he didn’t tell me? Friendships are so overrated. I’m putting chilli in his yoghurt. Maybe my lifeisturning into a soap opera.
“You’re awfully interested in their junk.”
“I’m thinking about yours,” I say truthfully. The only dick I’m interested in. Hell, the onlybody, period, that I’m interested in. The rest of the world has nothing on him.
“No.”
“What if I said please?”
“You can’t seriously want me to stick a fucking rod through my cock?”
He says it as if that imagery is going to make it less sexy to me. It’d be hot because anything Kendrick does is hot, but that’s not really the point of the question, is it?Wouldhe pierce it for me? How far will he let me go? There are days I want to ask him to do something horrifying just to see if he will. For me.
Of course, I already know the answer. I could ask him to do anything in the world, and he’d do it. He may look at me funny or attempt some kind of negotiation, but at the end of the day, whatever I want goes.
That’s heady as fuck. And not to be taken advantage of. Not when it counts. He doesn’t deserve for that kind of power to be abused. I want to take care of him, not use him. I want him to know that he’s always safe with me, and that I’ll destroy anything that wants to hurt him.
The second we’re inside our apartment, I shove him against the front door, slamming it shut. He swallows and tips his head, exposing his throat for me. I can’t resist that kind of invitation.
He moans the second my lips touch his skin, and it only deepens when I bite down and suck. His perfect responses kill me. It’s like he’s starving, and I’m the only one that can feed him. The only one who can give himthis.
And I want to. I want to give him everything because he deserves that. Because we both do.
I take my time, licking and biting and sucking until his throat is covered in red marks. Unlike his new tattoo, they’ll fade. That’s alright; I’ll just make more.
Eventually, I lift my head, and the vision Kendrick presents makes my chest ache and my throat clog. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Cheeks flushed, eyes glazed over, lips parted with harsh breaths. His hands are splayed on thedoor, like he’s trying to keep himself apart from me, stop himself from touching me.
That won’t do. He never gets to hide anything from me. And I need his hands on me.
“I want to have sex.”
