Page 91 of Cold Hard Cash

“Yes, I’ve contacted a very reliable source to look into the case.”

“You mean Geemaw?”

Cold snorted in surprise. “Yes. She’s also the one who’s going to help me free your father.”

“Wait,” Jimmy protested, moaning at another cruel twist. “I heard you and Jules talking about Geemaw before we made the deal for the ring.”

“And?”

Jimmy glared accusingly at Cold. “You only offered to help my dad to get the stupid ring from me.”

“Because there was nothing else you’d be willing to trade it for.”

“But you had me trade for something you were already doing?”

“Mmmhmm,” Cold purred, offering Jimmy mercy and moving his hand down over his side. He nuzzled against Jimmy’s neck, his lips allowing a small and chaste kiss next to his ear.

“That is so freakin’ sneaky! You said you wouldn’t lie to me again—”

“I didn’t lie,” Cold interjected. “I manipulated the situation to our mutual advantage. I get the ring, your father will be freed. I am going to make sure of it.”

“That’s, that’s still so screwed up,” Jimmy groaned as Cold’s hand moved down the front of his pants, grunting appreciatively when he was found hard and leaking. He kept his hips firmly planted against the sheets, trying to resist the urge to thrust up into Cold’s palm.

“Any other burning questions?” Cold asked far too calmly for someone who had their hand wrapped around a dick.

“Yes,” Jimmy continued to protest, gritting his teeth. “Why were you already looking into the case, why...” His eyes widened as a few of the pieces fell into place. “Augustus. You said Augustus lied about something. That’s how you were going to get him. You found something?”

“Gold star for you, Mr. Poe,” Cold purred, squeezing Jimmy’s cock teasingly. “I admire that lovely brain of yours, I do, but right now I’m interested in a very different part of your anatomy... I’m not going to answer any more questions, so I hope you’re satisfied?”

“Yes, sir,” Jimmy gasped, his eyes fluttering closed. “At least, with, uhm, asking questions... definitely maybe could think of some other... satisfying things to do.”

“Mmmm. It’s not nine o’clock yet,” Cold mused, suddenly releasing his hold and fixing Jimmy with a sly smile.

“Are you really paying that much attention to the time now? Like right now?” Jimmy all but growled, panting haggardly. “Are you serious?”

“Mmm, we should wait until you’re actually on the clock,” Cold taunted.

“Do you want me to beg? Is that what this is?” Jimmy whined, falling boneless against the bed despite a strong urge to kick his feet like an enraged toddler.

“I want to make sure you’re actually up for this,” Cold corrected, his fingers lightly resting on Jimmy’s cheek. “My intention is not to be cruel.”

“Rod,” Jimmy said earnestly, invoking his name to help convey how serious he was, “I could have died today. And when I was down there on the floor, I didn’t have any of that whole life flashing before my eyes or anything. All I thought about was you.”

Cold’s snark was wiped away, replaced with a curiously blank expression. He appeared to be lost, gazing over Jimmy’s face in desperate search of something. He stroked his thumb across Jimmy’s cheek, lightly tracing his brow, commanding quietly, “Then strip, Mr. Poe.”

“Yes, sir,” Jimmy said, nodding slowly, that dominant tone seeping right into his soul. He pushed the baggy shirt up over his head and wiggled his pants off in a blink, then watched as Cold moved onto his back, sitting up against the headboard.

Patting his thigh invitingly, Cold beckoned him over, and Jimmy obediently slinked into his lap, surprised when Cold guided his hands up on his shoulders. He was thrilled with being given permission to touch.

Cold gently ran his fingers down Jimmy’s arms, pausing over the bullet wound. He traced around the bandage, his brow furrowing with obvious concern. His touch was tender, gentle, as he said softly, “I wish that bastard was still alive so I could kill him myself.”

“I’m okay,” Jimmy said quietly, bravely moving his hands to rest on Cold’s chest. “I’m here, I’m safe... I’m yours.”

Eyes narrowing, Cold gripped Jimmy’s hips possessively. He rolled his body up against Jimmy’s, making him gasp when he felt how hard he was already. “Mine.”

“Yours,” Jimmy agreed, breathless as he watched Cold grab lube from the bedside table and slick up his fingers. He arched his back, eagerly trying to press into Cold’s hand when he reached between his cheeks.

“Patience,” Cold chastised, not yet penetrating him. “You do realize that this isn’t going to count toward your outstanding balance?”