“I need you to try harder,” I say sternly. “Otherwise, I’ll have to stop.”
A growl sounds in his throat as his hand flies to the back of my head, fingers gripping the strands as he guides my mouth back to his cock. “You willnotbe stoppin’. Not when your mouth feels like fuckin’ heaven.”
Heat spreads low in my spine. I’m so hard my balls ache, but I want his pleasure so much more than mine right now. Parting my lips, I let Remington slide his cock over my tongue again. His grip on my hair tightens as he thrusts all the way into my mouth, his jaw clenched as I bob my head up and down. His salty arousal spills on my tongue, and I want more. I want to taste how he comes for me, feel him turn into putty as I wring him dry.
Bringing my hand up, I jerk his length as I suck, palming his balls and rolling them with my other. Remington groans, teeth sunk into his bottom lip to stifle his groans. As he rocks his hips, I can taste his desperation. He’s getting close, and that’s like a shot of adrenaline and lust straight to my core. I don’t slow down, don’t speed up; I keep my pace and suck his cock like I’m a starving man. And hell, for him, I kind of am.
It doesn’t take long to feel him swell in my mouth. Dropping his head forward, his dark, heated gaze bores into me as his jaw relaxes and his cock twitches against my tongue. A moment later, his eyes roll back again, and he spills down my throat. Hisgrip is painful on the back of my head as he moans through his release.
“Fuck,” he sputters. “Oh, fuck, that’s it, daddy. So fuckin’ good.”
My chest swells, and I’m surprised I don’t come in my pants again with how hot Remington looks falling apart. I swallow every drop, loving the taste of him and wanting more. I keep him in my mouth once he finishes, peering up at him as he cups the side of my face, gently brushing his thumb along my jaw. I don’t pull off until he’s softened, and as soon as I do, I already miss the weight of him on my tongue.
“Damn,” he mutters as he pulls up his pants and fastens them. “What a nice fuckin’ surprise that was.”
I chuckle, heat spreading across my cheeks and down to my neck. “That wasn’t planned.”
“Mmhmm, sure,” he teases.
A comfortable silence surrounds us as we gaze at each other. After a moment, I clear my throat and tip my chin toward the door. “Well, I oughta let you get back to work,” I murmur. “But I’m glad we, uh…had this talk.”
Remington snorts before kissing me one last time. “Very glad we had thistalktoo, daddy.”
I don’t know where to go from here, and I don’t know what the future holds, but at least we’re on the same page.
Twenty-Six
Remi
Chief Daniels’ office always smells faintly like burnt coffee and old paper. I’ve been in here a hundred times over the years—for commendations, post-incident reports, the occasional chewing out when I was younger and dumber. But this time feels different.
When I knock on the door, he waves me in without looking up from the file on his desk. “Close the door, Lieutenant.”
The click of the latch sounds louder than it should. I’m surprised I hear it over the pounding of my heart. Taking the chair across from him, I rest my hands on my thighs like I’m about to be interviewed. Through the window behind him, I can see the bay floor, where a couple of guys lean against the engine, talking.
Chief Daniels finally looks up, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “So,” he says. “It’s been a while since you and I sat in here and talked. By you requesting this meeting, I assume you’ve come to a decision?”
I nod once, swallowing around the golf ball in my throat.
The position is mine if I want it.Captain.My very own station. Everything my father wanted for me is so close.
“Your numbers are strong, your reports are solid, your crew trusts you.” He leans back in his chair. “Your dad would’ve been so proud to see you make captain.”
There it is.
It’s not manipulative. Not really. Just…true. He would’ve, and I know it. But is that really enough?
My father wore captain bars for years before he died. I grew up in this station. Running between the lockers as a kid. Sitting on the tailboard during open house days. Listening to the older guys tell stories about him like he was ten feet tall. He was my hero. And for a long time—too long—I thought the only way to measure my life was to stand exactly where he stood.
Resting my forearms on my knees, I take a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “Chief, I appreciate the offer. I really do.”
He studies my face carefully. Intently. “But?” he prompts.
I give myself a moment, wanting this to come out strong and clear. “But I can’t become the next captain, Chief.”
The silence that follows isn’t angry. Just tense and…surprised. Folding his hands on the desk, he says, “Wanna walk me through that decision, Lieutenant?”
Honestly, it’s a fair question.
