Page 22 of Beyond the Stix
“My cock doesn’t know better. But I do. And me sticking my dick in your ass isn’t what you need,” I say bluntly. It’s the truth, even if he doesn’t want to hear it.
“You don’t know what the fuck I need,” Connor grates out, then turns his back to me. “I’m going to sleep on the couch.” He storms toward the door.
“Stop,” I order—not loud, but stern enough to convey that I’m not fucking around. I hate games, and Connor is playing with the wrong person. He’ll lose to me every time.
Connor halts at the threshold, but doesn’t turn around or say anything, and I’m fine with that. He just needs to listen.
“You asked me to lay with you, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Now get your ass back into bed.”
“Or what?” The challenge in his voice and the slight turn of his head is enough for me to know he’s readying for a fight.
I sit up tall and place one foot on the floor, in case I have to chase him down. “Doyouwant totestme?” I put power behind my voice, to convey that I’m not fucking around.
He stills—not even taking a breath. I’m normally not aggressive with clients, but when you meet a challenge like Connor Wild, you have to use every weapon in your arsenal. I have to make him understand I’m no one to fuck with.
Warrior Black’s drummer needs to learn this sooner rather than later.
“We have a long day tomorrow. You and I need sleep.” It’s all I say before Connor turns back around, eyes me like I’m a speck, and then climbs into bed. He turns off the light, situates himself at the edge of the mattress, putting his back to me once again.
“I don’t fucking think so.” I haul his ass to the middle of the bed, spooning him close, so neither of us falls off the mattress. “Now go to sleep.”
A soft growl penetrates the dark, but I say nothing. Instead, I close my eyes, and listen to Connor’s breathing even out in a matter of minutes. I, on the other hand, lay there contemplating whether I did the right thing by ordering him back to bed with me, then decide I’m too damn tired to worry about it now.
SEVEN
Connor
I sigh,absorbing the solid warmth against me. I rub my face…What the…I blink, opening my eyes and see a wall of chest hair. Dark and thick.
I must be dreaming. Hmm.
I nuzzle my face in the crisp hairs and inhale. Earthy, sweat, and male.
“Stop moving. It’s too damn early.” The gruff voice of?—
“John?” I bolt upright, blinking rapidly and stare down at the bodyguard in my bed. Sometime during the night, he must have taken off his shirt. I look around as memories of last night crash into me. “What the fuck?”
John’s hazy but handsome blue eyes stare up at me with amusement. “Did you forget last night already?”
“I don’t…” Shit. “Whatever,” I admit, remembering.
I regret asking him to come to bed with me last night. If it wasn’t for the nightmare I had about Jessup hovering over me, I wouldn’t be in this fucking mess.
In the dream Jessup was talking to me, but I felt afraid and confused and needed to run. And I guess I did. Right to John.
Jesus. I can’t believe I practically threw myself at John, but his refusal to fuck me hurts far worse than him not talking to me for nearly seven months. And I don’t know why.
Granted, he sucked my dick to near completion, so maybe I just asked too much of John.
Ugh.I’m such a fucking loser.
I get out of bed, and John slowly sits up. He looks around the room until his gaze lands on the clock on the wall. He sighs and rubs at his eyes.
“What?” I ask, trying to let last night’s embarrassing actions slide off my shoulders.
“It’s eight in the morning.”
“No shit, Sherlock. I’m going to take a piss and then shower.” I don’t give him time to respond and head to the bathroom down the hallway. As awkward as it was to be in bed with my bodyguard, I have to admit that it was the best damn sleep I’ve had in a very long time. No bad dreams either.