And for once, there were no doubts. They’d do the same for me.
EPILOGUE
“Booker Collins.”My fingers drifted over the decals on the frosted glass. “Private Eye.” It started with a Sherlock Holmes novel, and before I knew it, we were reading dozens of detective novels. A month ago, over dinner, he quietly said, “I’m quitting.”
It was only a few weeks before he rented an office. Borrowing from the novels, he had a door installed that demanded a femme fatale to burst through. I wasn’t busty enough for the role, but I knocked anyway. He pitched the idea, fearful it would kill his career. Having seen him save the day on more than one occasion, I knew he needed more than just being behind a desk battling red tape.
“Come in.”
I opened the door, and the first thing I noted was the trench coat and fedora on the coat rack. Behind the desk,with his feet resting on a drawer, he embodied every fictional detective. Being near Booker, I had gotten better at separating my emotions from his. The pride washed over my skin, forcing my chest to puff up. He couldn’t contain the accomplishment. I hoped he could feel my pride. He followed his heart, and that deserved a round of applause.
“What do you think?”
“Not quite right.” When the door clicked shut, the color drained from the room. Muted grays remained, highlighting his suspenders and skinny tie. “There we go. Now it’s perfect.”
“What’s a boy like you doing in a place like this?”
What about a man in suspenders made me think inappropriate things? The thin straps hugged his belly, stretching just enough to remind me of what hid on the other side of that dress shirt. The hat and jacket might be props, but if he showed up at my door, I’d have him in nothing but the hat in seconds.
“I can feel that,” he admitted.
“Good.”
He stood up, moving to the front of his desk. He looked like a real-life private eye. The only problem was the tie. I kissed him on the cheek as I reached for the knot. He didn’t resist as I pulled it away, sliding the red fabric from around his neck and dropping it to the floor.
“Somebody’s in a mood.”
When I reached for the top button, I leaned againsthim, making sure he knew the exact mood I was in. The benefit of dating an empath—I never had to ask for sex. He knew the moment I went from rational thought to swimming in carnal urges. It also meant that with the slightest reach of his abilities, he’d drop his defenses and let it wash over him. As he stiffened in his trousers, I had my confirmation.
“I think it might be one ofthosemoments.”
“Here? What about?—”
I gripped his shirt, pulling him in tight for a kiss. He encouraged me to take charge and give the orders. This time, he’d get his wish. The bourbon and vanilla in his beard served as an aphrodisiac as I pressed my tongue against his. When I bit down on his lip, waves of heat flooded my body. He couldn’t create emotions, but he could amplify them. As my desire cranked up to eleven, his clothes were getting in my way.
I tore the shirt off his body. He quickly reached for the button on his pants, preventing me from shredding those as well. Shrugging off his suspenders, his trousers slid down his legs, leaving him in a pair of tighty-whities.
The first time we had gotten naked, he held me in place while he trailed my body in kisses. Booker asked for nothing in return. I had been his willing victim, letting his tongue traverse my body. I never had a partner who gave without demanding reciprocation.
Our dynamic had shifted.
I dipped down, grabbing his thighs, hoisting him onto the desk. He had given without asking. With his powers igniting a primal need, I took without asking. On patrols, Hellion didn’t ask for permission. Drew wasn’t any different in the bedroom. With my cock grinding against my zipper and a mischievous grin on Booker’s face, there was no need for permission.
Sex with Booker ranged from gentle lovemaking to forceful fucking. As his powers diminished my inhibitions, I knew which he wanted. With a hand on his chest, I pushed him back until he lay propped up on his elbows. I tore the underwear from his legs, and it joined the rest of his rags.
I dipped to my knees, staring at that beautiful cock. Every time he got naked, I wanted to touch him. It made showering at my apartment dangerous. How long before Arthur had a review meeting about my tardiness? If he saw the fuzzy belly in front of me and how it tapered, as if it were an arrow pointing to his cock, he’d understand.
I kissed the left thigh, close enough to his balls that I smelled the sweat. Each brush of my lips elicited a soft gasp. It took willpower to resist the raw emotions bombarding me. Pride. Desire. Heat. I couldn’t separate them as they poured into me. Each held a tender note: love.
We had yet to say it aloud. Words seemed unnecessary when he could read my heart like an open book.
My tongue dragged along his balls, moving up his cockuntil it reached the head. Before he groaned, I had the tip in my mouth. I savored every inch as I greedily swallowed. Before this ended, I’d have his load down the back of my throat. Booker’s cock was like a steel bar when he got excited. It was the perfect cock when I was on all fours, his hands on my hips. Enough to hurt, but not so much that I didn’t want more.
I reached the base, the head in the back of my throat, just far enough that I couldn’t breathe. Sliding my hands under his hips, I pulled him tighter, taking the last inch. Now Booker moaned, hands reaching to the back of my head. He tried thrusting, but I was in control. I would decide how he’d come.
I shot up, gasping for air.
As fast as my lungs could fill, I grabbed his hips, flipping him over. Booker let out a grunt as his chest hit the desk. His head shot up as if he might protest. The sight of his ass exposed, legs hanging off the desk, was more than I could take. We were going to christen his office. There’d be plenty more grunting.
