Page 38 of Casual Felonies (Wildlings #1)

RAMI

After reassuring my sister that I’m okay, I sneak back into the room and take a shower, then slide into bed next to True, who likes to sleep naked. Our combined nudity is fucking delicious.

“Hey,” he says, palming my ribs. “Where’d you go?”

“Went with Sy to make an example out of Preston Whitaker.”

“Rami.”

I shrug. “Dad showed up and trigger blocked us. Now he and Sy are taking out a substitute bad guy to make up for the fact that they couldn’t kill him.”

He kisses my nose. “You know, I was going to go take care of Whitaker in the morning.”

I bite back a smile. “Wouldn’t that have fucked you up?”

“Maybe, but no one harms you without coming through me, you got it?”

Flustered, I answer, “Thank you. But I’d never have you do something that would bother you like that, especially since it’s apparently so easy for me.”

“Good point,” he says, his smile wry.

“Oh, that reminds me, my Aunt Hedy’s going to call and ask me to join her for lunch.” I pop my brows. “Wonder what she wants.”

“Not to be rude,” True says, pulling me into a hug, “but I don’t give a shit what your Aunt Hedy wants right now. Do you?”

I shake my head, enjoying the sensual warmth of his body against mine.

He kisses me breathless, then asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Horny.” I push my face into his neck. “Not to mention squeaky clean.”

“Mmm,” he grumbles, ghosting his hand over my hip. “You’re giving me so many dirty ideas.”

“Yeah, like what?”

Curving his hand around my ass cheek, he then presses the tip of his middle finger into my hole, still a little loose from our earlier fuck session. “Do you wanna go bare tonight?”

“God, fuck. Yes .”

“Good answer. Do you have any oil?”

“Instead of the recovery lube?”

“Yep.” He reverses course, running his practiced hand up my spine. “Unless you need it.”

I shake my head and reach into my nightstand drawer. “Here you go.”

He sets it aside, then faces me, his smile a slow-moving evil thing.

Oh no.

“Please,” I groan, “just fuck me. I’m begging you.”

“Oh, Rami.” Truett clucks his tongue. “You haven’t even begun to beg me yet.”

I suck in a sharp inhale. “No. No, no, no. What does that mean ?”

“You said that when it comes to intimacy, you like letting me make the decisions,” he says, kissing the back of my hand.

“Yes, but?— ”

“But nothing.” His hand on my face is a drug I can’t get enough of. “You’ve been through a lot, and you need my help, do you not?”

“But you’re the one who got?—”

Truett cuts me off with a deliberate shake of his head. “Maybe this is good for me too.”

“I don’t know,” I answer, wary of his plans for me. “I could probably get myself off pretty quickly right now.”

“But you won’t.” He locks his hands around my wrists as he leans in for another kiss. “Besides, what you want—what you urgently need —is for me to slow down. To take my time. To make it count.”

One very insistent part of my body is definitely not on board with what he is suggesting, but the rest of me hungers for exactly that.

“You are not a good man,” I whine, knowing he’s going to take me apart, piece by piece.

“Yeah, but that sort of fits in with this crew, doesn’t it?”

I try to grumble, to protest, but he rolls on top of me, sliding his semi-soft cock against mine, silencing me with a kiss so deep and profound I’m willing to fly to Vegas and be his for the rest of my life.

Dramatic.

Oh, but his kisses are just that good. They reach right down to the core of me. Nothing he does is hurried or thoughtless. I’m drowning in the soft, insistent press of his lips against mine.

He finally pulls away from the kiss, supporting his weight on one forearm as he drags his fingertips over my chest, feathering them over my flat nipples.

Our cocks harden against each other, and I arch into his touch, begging for more—more pressure, more skin, more of his mouth on mine and whatever the fuck he’s going to do with that oil—but he refuses to give in to my whining.

Which, as a guy who’s rarely told no, is probably exactly what I need .

Fuck’s sake, don’t tell him that.

His fingers trace every rib, circling back to feather over the sensitive nubs before tracing down my sternum and my belly button. His steady resolve is an insistent sort of heat. I melt against the bed.

He then goes back over the same ground, this time with his lips, ghosting over the already innervated skin, a mere whisper of the pressure. I’d give anything to have him flip me and fuck me into the mattress.

“True…” I whine. “Please.”

He ignores my pleas, however, repeating this pattern across my body like a sadist. Drifting his fingers over an increasingly sensitized patch of skin, his lips then trace over the path of his fingers, all with the teasing press of his steel length against mine.

I have no sense of how much time has passed, but something tells me he could go at this for hours if he wanted to.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re needy,” he murmurs.

He runs a fingertip through the precum pooling on my belly, tasting me, driving me up a goddamn wall.

“Do you need to sleep?” he asks, his words gentle. As though he isn’t an absolute tyrant. “I can wait till the morning.”

“Don’t you dare,” I hiss.

Chuckling, he grabs the bottle of oil— fucking finally —and taps the label. “ Sensual ,” he mouths with a devil grin.

“Stop teasing me,” I demand. “Oil up that monster between your legs and fuck me.”

“All in good time, my pretty.”

Grinning like a villain, he pulls me into a sitting position, then slips behind me, settling against the pillows before pulling my back to his front.

“Come on, baby. Lean back. Let go a little.”

I do as he asks, lying against his chest, settling my head on his shoulder, my entire body thrumming with need.

He pours the oil into his hands, warming it before soothing it up and down my torso and inner thighs.

The tease. This goes on for far longer than it should, and I can’t tell if I want him to hurry up or never stop touching me like this.

When his fingertips finally pass over my nipples, they’re ripe for the taking, the oil so perfect on my skin.

“More. Please, more.”

“I can give you more, baby.”

He adds more oil to his hands and returns to my thighs, going in wider and wider circles until the edges of his fingers graze my cock.

“ Please .”

He sucks kisses along my shoulder and neck, one hand finally circling my poor, neglected cock. Teasing my oiled-up nipples with his free hand, he jacks me nice and slow. I whine, wanting him to tighten his grip, to go faster, but something tells me that if I ask for it, he won’t give it to me.

So instead, I twist against him, silently begging for more pressure, more anything . He acquiesces, tightening his grip, stroking me faster, then faster still. I cry out, so fucking close. Just as the orgasm is about to hit, he removes his hands from my body.

“No!” I shout, then drop my voice to a whimper. “Please. I need it. Please .”

“Mm.” He nuzzles against my ear, letting his hands lazily drift up and down my abs. “So pretty when you beg.”

My muscles contract and release under his diabolical hands, my chest dramatically rising and falling as I try to remember the basics of breathing.

“I need it so much. Please. Please touch me. Fuck me. Something. Anything.”

“ Oh. Does my baby boy need my big, thick cock?”

“Yes, I do. I really do. Split me with that monster meat of yours. ”

Truett laughs, and my face goes hot. How embarrassing.

I pull away from him, intent on flipping over and begging him to take me, but he tsks and grabs me around the waist, pushing me against the bed, my cock sticking straight up.

Ignoring my whining and begging, he adds a bit more oil to a couple of fingers.

Before I can make demands, he silences me with a hand necklace, locking me in with his gaze as he begins to fuck himself on his own fingers.

“What are you doing?” I ask, breathless.

He grins. “Whatever the fuck I want.”