Page 41

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

PERRY

It takes more like nineteen minutes, and he doesn’t touch his coffee until he’s done, but Tommy does it. He finds a guy who looks the least like St. Clare it’s possible to look while still clearly being related. Unlike St. Clare, this guy’s expression is permanently terrified, and maybe that’s his real face, or maybe he’s actually terrified. I’ll hold out my judgment until I meet him.

Tommy tracked him from security camera to camera until we reached SODO and then … nothing. So I guess the first place we’ll start looking is there.

“It’s a big area to cover, so we’ll organize supplies and meet back here tonight,” Ever says. “It’ll be easier to search when it’s not busy.”

“What type of supplies?” I ask, picturing night-vision goggles and flare guns.

“Comms equipment.”

Huh. Well, that’s still cool, even if slightly less cool than my first thoughts.

A yawn rips through St. Clare. “Tonight? I might try to get some sleep before then.”

“Yeah, we didn’t have any last night,” I add, which makes it sound sexual but actually wasn’t.

“First rule is to always be well rested,” Arlie says. She’s in take- charge mode, which is one of her hotter modes for sure. “You can’t watch anyone’s back if you’re not at your best.”

Lars’s voice is more eager than usual. “Of course. You’re so right.”

You’re so right?

I narrow my eyes, amused and suspicious. Does Larsy-boy have a crush? I mean, I can’t blame him. Arlie is a force. And hey, if he’s all schmoopy over her, then that’s total confirmation that he’s not going to suddenly turn around and decide he’s in love with my pookie-bear. Maybe once this is over, I can play matchmaker. I’ve never created romance on purpose, so it could be fun.

“Everyone okay for now?” Arlie checks.

“Sure am.” Knowing St. Clare isn’t in actual danger and that apparently I was the only one trying to kill him has given me whiplash, but I can’t lie and say I’m not relieved. Guilty, yes. There’s lots of that. But relief is a close second.

In this entire room, I’m the only one potentially wanted dead, and those odds are a lot better than what I initially thought they were.

“Do you two have masks?” Tommy asks, looking from St. Clare to Lars. “We’ll need to go incognito in case we’re not the only ones searching the area.”

“I have masks,” I answer because I already know St. Clare and Lars don’t. “I’ve got spares. I’ll share mine.”

“Okay. Good to know.” Tommy snaps his laptop closed and stuffs it and the other things he’s brought back into his bag. “Should we meet back here at … nine?”

“Sounds good.” But with them all leaving and everything put off until tonight, there are hours ahead of us where we’ll be sleeping, but also … I really missed St. Clare. And I want to show him how much.

The others leave, and I wave them off before turning to Lars. “You should, uh, possibly do a perimeter check. Hang out any place not here.”

I expect Lars to argue, but he must sense my ulterior motives because he shoves his feet into his boots and heads outside .

St. Clare studies me. “That excited to sleep, are you?”

“Super excited.” I take his hand and tug him after me until we get to the bedroom. “Very, very excited.” I make a show of flopping down onto the tiny bed while St. Clare stays planted in the middle of the room.

“Good to know.” He keeps on standing there, hands tucked in his pockets, gaze taking a slow path down my body. Because I need him to hurry the hell up, I lift the bottom of my shirt, showing off my abs and a glimpse of nipple.

The way his hunger lights up his face makes me feel shivery. I’ve never been looked at the way St. Clare looks at me. The predatory gleam that hits his eyes is something that I didn’t realize could be so hot directed at me. Sure, I’ve probably directed it at other people before because I’m obviously a total predator and—fine, that’s a lie. I think the reason I like it so much is because no one has ever wanted me like he does. Period.

My cock thickens as St. Clare takes a measured step closer. “Pity we’re supposed to be going to sleep right now.”

“Sleep. Right. Answer me this. What’s going to distract you more? Being a widdle bit tired or trying to concentrate with my ass right there , knowing you could have been inside it already.”

St. Clare makes a choking noise, head bowing back as he grips the hard outline of his cock. “Why are you doing this?”

I curl my bottom lip over. “I’ve missed you.”

“It’s barely been twenty-four hours.”

“Exactly. Do you know how much we could have made each other come in that time?”

Like he loses all sense of control, St. Clare plants his knee on the mattress beside me, then blankets my body with his. “You’re insatiable.”

He’s not half-wrong. “Well, what’s the point of training my ass if you’re not going to use it?”

“You want me to use you?”

I nod, lust creeping through my system at the prospect of St. Clare fucking me. I’m not sure why the whole idea of it is such a turn-on when I’ve always been fine being the one doing the fucking, but I’m almost obsessive over it. “You have supplies in here?” I ask, dreading the thought of it not happening again.

“I do.” He tugs my bottom lip between his teeth and bites down enough for a short spike of pain. “And a condom.”

“We need a condom?”

“Yes.”

“But …”

He runs his nose up my cheek. “But what?”

“I sort of … I just …”

“Tell me.”

“I like the thought of you making me all messy.”

St. Clare groans and rolls his hips, steely hard cock grinding against mine. “Next time.”

“Promise?”

He pulls back, looking me dead in the eye, and the way that bright blue pierces me is addictive. “In case you haven’t gotten the message, I … I care about you. I keep wanting more. I don’t know what that means yet, but all I know is that something feels intrinsically off without you in my life. I’m not done here. I want more, for however long you want this to keep going.”

Hearing St. Clare break this down and give voice to what I’ve been feeling makes my chest balloon with happiness. “Aww … pookie.”

He blinks. Frowns. “No.”

“But that was so sweet.”

“We’re not pet naming. This is sex, Perry.”

There’s no way I’m interested in him pulling back now. I flip us, rolling on top of him so this time I’m the one pressing him into the mattress, all the long lines of his body fitting perfectly against mine. “This is more than sex, and you know it. I’ve done the just sex thing. I’ve been with people who aren’t interested in anything more than what I can give them physically, but I’m so much more than that. I know I can be. Let me look after you and be sweet to you and maybe fall for you a little bit. I want the sex and the emotions and to look at you and know that I have my own person who’s safe and home and all mine. I think you could be that person.”

There’s a war going on behind his eyes that takes a minute to settle. “You’re putting a lot of faith in someone who’s never had a real relationship.”

I touch his ear and then my shoulder again, and slowly, like I knew it would, his lips fight the inevitable smile.

“We match,” he says.

“We do.”

He swallows thickly. “Yeah. I think I could be that person too.”

My heart hums happily, and I push up onto my knees, strip off my shirt, then reach down and do the same to him. He’s so damn sexy. Mostly smooth with a scattering of the lightest blond hair. Pecs that make me desperate to touch. Little pink nipples and then those grooves of his abs that have me concerned I’ve contracted rabies with how much I’m foaming at the mouth for them.

“Oh shit …” I rasp, flooded with the kind of heady want that’s impossible to control. Each of my brain cells blinks out of commission as my gaze dips to where he’s straining at his zipper.

My hands are shaking as I pop the button and drag open the fly. His cock springs free, pale with dark, straining veins and a deep red tip, and before St. Clare can say anything, I give in to the urge to lean forward and wrap my lips around him.

The girth stretches out my jaw as I sink down onto him, tongue flicking along the underside as I taste the lusty need he has for me. Sucking cock is so new and different, and I never want to stop.

His fingers grip my hair tight. “That’s enough.”

I reluctantly pull off and make sure my expression shows my exact thoughts. “But I want more.”

“Well, you have the choice. I can come in your mouth or your ass. I can’t do both.”

“Not with that attitude,” I mutter but give in.

I stand off the bed and strip out of my pants while St. Clare pushes his down far enough to kick off. His long, muscular legs are calling for me, but before I can disappear back between them, St. Clare rolls onto his side and pats the bed beside himself .

“Lie face down. I need to get you ready for me.”

I throw myself onto the bed, and he laughs at my eagerness, but I don’t care. The promise of his fingers in me is enough, let alone that I’m going to take more. “Hurry up.”

“I’ll take all the time I need.”

Asshole. I grip the bedding in my fists, trying to stop from saying that word out loud. I need him on side here because I’m fully prepared to be fucked good and hard before we both crash out for the day.

When St. Clare climbs out of bed, I focus on breathing steadily through my nose, not wanting to complain or whine or start fucking begging or something. Patience has never been my strong suit, and after rutting against the bed a couple of times, I’m ready to give in.

Then he climbs back up behind me, and before I can tell him to hurry up again, something cold and wet slides down my crease.

I immediately tense, and it’s only when his fingers follow the lube that I’m able to relax again.

“There you go,” he says in a voice that makes my whole body light up. “Just let me do what I need to.”

I bury my face in the blankets, hips tilting up to meet his touch. It shouldn’t be this good. It shouldn’t. But all it takes is him pushing a finger inside of me to not focus on that so much. It doesn’t matter what should or shouldn’t be happening because one finger is enough to make my ass sing, and I’m so ready for him that I rock back onto it. It’s a lot easier with the lube than spit, but it’s different. I dream of the day we can spend an entire weekend doing just this.

“You have no idea how sexy this looks,” he says, voice a low rumble. “You’re sucking me in. So hungry for it.”

“I need it.”

A second finger joins the first, stretching more than last time, but I love it. Love the fullness and want more. I’m mildly concerned that I’ll never be satisfied, but I’ve never felt like this before. Never wanted someone more than I wanted my next breath .

He leans in, and the warm swipe of his tongue joins his fingers. His fingers fuck into me slowly as his tongue does the rest. Licking and sucking, slipping inside and stretching me open, getting me ready to take him.

That’s the part that’s really turning me on. Him prepping me to use. It’s rearranged the chemicals in my brain to the point it’s all I can focus on.

“I need your cock,” slips past my lips way sooner than I thought it would. I always knew I’d end up begging, but I thought I could hold out at least a few more minutes than this. Not with St. Clare though. That man has me twisted and unfocused, my whole body a snappy live wire, waiting for him to amp up the sparks. “Please.”

He laughs, pulling back, and this time when he presses his fingers inside, the stretch is deeper. I can feel him opening me, softening me, and I try to relax to make it easier on him, but I’m so fucking keyed up.

“I think you’re ready.”

“Thank fuck,” I grunt.

He pulls his fingers out and thwacks my ass cheek. The sharp pain is almost too much, but a second after it hits, it goes from painful to pure fucking heat. I slip my hand beneath myself to wrap around my cock.

The friction is barely enough relief to calm me down, and I turn to look at him over my shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Putting on the condom.”

“It’s taking forever.”

“I’m also enjoying the view. You should see how loose and gaping you are.” His groan rattles in his chest. “I’ve been dying to fuck you since I saw you in that coffee shop.”

I stroke myself slowly, letting his words settle in deep. “Now’s your chance, then.”

“On your knees.”

I push up onto them, still debating whether to get onto all fours, when his hands slide up my thighs to my ass. He grips me tight, spreads me open, and then licks a long wet strip from my balls to my tailbone.

My back arches involuntarily.

“Beg me,” he commands.

My balls throb, and I don’t bother to think, just word. “Please. I need it. I need you. I’m so fucking empty.” My ass clamps down around nothing. “Please fuck me.”

The head of his cock presses against me, and before he pushes inside, I’m already frustrated by the thin rubber between us. It doesn’t feel the same as yesterday. Heated flesh against flesh. Feeling the sticky need of his precum marking up my opening.

Then he breaches my hole, and every frustration leaves me.

My muscles instinctively want to lock up, but I force myself to relax. To take him. To get everything I never knew I wanted.

St. Clare’s cock feels way bigger than I expected, but he goes slow and seems to know exactly when to push and when to wait, and I have no clue about anything going on other than the fact I’m so deliciously, filthily stretched open.

His deep, ragged breathing fills my ears. “You feel so good.”

That’s the highest praise he could give me. My gut is flush with tingly sparks from my balls to my chest, and when St. Clare releases a long exhale, pressing tight against my ass, I melt. I’m jelly. Completely filled, brain offline, lust and happiness coursing through me.

When he doesn’t move, I do it for him. Gentle strokes, on and off, until the burning stretch relieves and the delicious slide takes over. His cock is brushing that place in my ass that makes my balls tighten again, and I don’t want it to stop.

I’d ride him all day if I could.

I plant my forearm on the bed, ignoring the pain in my shoulder as I jerk off. The faster I move, the more it signals to St. Clare what I can handle, and it’s a relief when he takes over. When he plants his hands on my hips and fucks me confidently, overwhelming every little nerve in my ass to the point that I’m ready to come.

I’m an emotional guy most of the time. I love my family and my friends. I’d do anything for anyone. But I’ve never wanted to tie myself emotionally to one person the way I want it with St. Clare. If it was my choice, I’d tie our hearts into little knots that he would never get undone again, and then we’d spend our days talking and goofing off and supporting each other and fucking in such a raw, uncontrollable way, I’d need days to recover from it.

I’ve never ever ever wanted this with another person and there have been plenty of other people.

Not one of them comes close to him.

He’s made for me.

And I’ll do everything to prove that I’m made for him.

His nails cut into my skin as he pounds ruthlessly against me. I’m vaguely aware of the bed meeting the wall, of his sweaty thighs against mine, of the way he utters my name in a disbelieving kind of way that tells me he’s as fucked as I am.

His groan is this deep, physical thing that strokes along my spine and into my balls even as he abuses that thing in my ass, which is almost numb with pleasure. I’m twitchingly high, balls and thighs tightening every time he pegs me just right, and I’m not sure I can hold out much longer.

I want him to come, but I’m at the point where I want to come more.

I’m leaking all over the sheets, jacking myself hard and fast, rocking back into his thrusts and matching his need with mine. Every part of me is going to hurt after this, but it’ll be so worth it to have what we have right now. To feel so good I could fucking fly.

“Ah, shit, Perry, this isn’t going to last much longer.”

The strangled way his words are uttered confirms it. But it’s okay, I’m not long for either. He’s tearing me up, turning me inside out, rearranging everything I thought I ever knew, and I’m enjoying every minute.

My cock swells in my hand as St. Clare lets out a grunt, hips stuttering as his dick twitches in my ass.

I imagine what it would be like without the condom. To be flooded with his cum and left used and sticky and open .

The sparking zaps in my spine get too much, and my eyes roll back on themselves as it finally releases.

I come hard, almost blacking out, not stopping to spare a thought for the bedding or St. Clare and how hard I’m riding back on him. My orgasm shudders through my limbs and then fades, slowly sizzling away and bringing back the ache in my shoulder before I collapse forward onto the bed.

St. Clare slips out, and what felt like heaven only seconds ago is starting to ache, and not in a good way now.

Only a bit though. Only enough to remind me what happened and confirm that I don’t regret a thing.