Page 12 of How to Hack a Hellhound (Hellhounds of Paradise Falls #2)

Chapter 12

Liam

Q uinton and I both woke up when Aiden rolled out of bed. He made his way out the door silently, and I snuggled back into Quinton.

“Uh uh,” he mumbled. “Up.”

I took that to mean we needed to get up, too, and I rolled out of bed. He waved one hand at me, shooing me out of the bedroom, while the other hand covered his face. “Coffee,” he mumbled.

I could do coffee. I walked into the kitchen to find Aiden already at the coffee machine, smirking at me. He had three cups out. I heard mumbling and a thump from the bedroom, and I turned around, ready to go make sure Quinton was ok.

“He’s fine,” Aiden said. “He’s not a morning person. Mornings are for caffeine and sass, so be prepared.”

“I thought they were also for sex?” I asked.

I heard another thump and a curse from Quinton’s room, and Aiden laughed.

“Not today, lover boy. Maybe when Quinton doesn’t have work, and definitely when I’m not here to listen in, because no thanks,” Aiden said.

He poured coffee into the cups, raising an eyebrow at me to ask how I wanted mine.

“Black is fine,” I said.

Aiden chuckled as he handed a cup to me across the kitchen island. When Quinton walked in, he handed a cup of coffee to him. “Liam likes his coffee and his men bitter, Q—perfect for you.”

Quinton just grumbled, sliding into the seat next to me at the kitchen island. I moved to put my arm around him, but he lifted his head, glaring a half-open eye at me. I think he even bared his teeth a little.

“No cuddles in the morning,” Aiden warned me. “He’s liable to bite your head off. You want some bacon and eggs?”

“Only if I can be of assistance,” I answered.

So Aiden put me to work, and we chatted amicably while Quinton shot us evil looks from the kitchen island if we talked too loudly. He occasionally threw out a sarcastic comment, and I smiled at him each time, which made him blush and Aiden smile.

We ate breakfast, and then Quinton announced he needed to get ready for work. I just looked at him, taking another drink of my coffee. He huffed, rolled his eyes, pulled me out of the chair, and actually pushed me toward the door by my shoulders. I guess it was time to leave?

“I have to get ready,” he grumbled. “Go home and figure out which bad guys we need to hunt down.”

He opened the door, pushed me out, and shut it behind me, but not before I saw Aiden give me a little wave and a smile.

“Quinton’s got a boyfriend,” Aiden singsonged.

I heard a thunk as Quinton leaned against the door and mumbled, “Shut up.”

“He doesn’t even mind your morning attitude. He’s a keeper, Q,” Aiden said.

I heard Quinton sigh. “He’s really sweet, isn’t he?” he asked.

“Yeah, he really is,” Aiden answered softly. “It’s ok to like him, you know. He’s got good energy.”

Quinton leaned away from the door and turned around, and then he gave the cutest yelp as he saw me outside the front door window.

“Sexy Stalker! Go home and watch me from the cameras in your house like a normal hacker,” he yelled, banging a hand against the glass.

I smiled at him and turned to walk away, hearing another thump against the door as he leaned into it again.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad,” I heard Aiden mumble, and then I was jogging to the house to get them on camera. And to get to work, because I did have some bad people to hunt down for Quinton. Anything to make him happy.

I was smiling and whistling as I walked up to the house, and I heard Jude and Corbin on the front porch. I walked around to find them lounging in chairs, looking freshly cleaned up and a little tired.

“Good night hunting?” I asked.

“Yup,” Jude replied, smiling. “But why are you so happy? We heard you whistling. That’s just fucking weird.”

“I’ve been upgraded,” I announced proudly.

Corbin and Jude both raised their eyebrows at me in question. “I’ve gone from Creepy Stalker to Sexy Stalker. A definite improvement, I think,” I answered.

Corbin nodded in agreement, but Jude just shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You guys are all hopeless,” he muttered. I ignored him and headed to what Quinton had termed my ‘“batcave.” It was time to get some research done, and of course, keep an eye on Quinton at the same time.

The week went by in a flash. Aiden and Quinton got back into the swing of working; Jude took them into work most days, while I made it a habit to pick them up. Quinton would come over and we’d do some research, then he’d head off to eat dinner with Aiden. I popped in twice at Aiden’s insistence for dinner as well, and it was nice to eat with the two of them.

Even when I wasn’t at dinner, I still got to watch them through the cameras anyway.

Much to my satisfaction, there had been no turning the cameras around. Quinton also never asked me to turn the sound off in his bedroom, and so I hadn’t. I was rewarded a few nights later with another “jerk-off sesh,” as he termed it. That time I didn’t even wait for him to head into the shower. The moment we were done, I was on my way over, and he didn’t seem surprised to see me appear in his bedroom door as he was getting on boxers.

He had smirked at my mussed look, then grabbed me and led me into the bathroom. I’d gotten to undress that time, although he had very cutely avoided looking at me naked. I’d hugged him under the shower spray, and there had been no tears, but he had gripped me tightly.

I knew he wasn’t over everything that had happened, and that was ok. We would go at whatever pace Quinton was comfortable with. I didn’t think he was quite ready for the intimacy of washing each other, so I let him pull away and wash himself off, then I did the same.

He said he supposed I needed aftercare again, to which I simply nodded. After we got out of the shower and dried off, he led me into bed. Aiden didn’t come in that night—it was only about half the time that he did—and Quinton and I slept cuddled up until morning, when Aiden’s movement in the house woke me up.

I brought them to work that morning and picked them up, and that night, Quinton had whispered “Good night, Sexy Stalker” to the camera before turning off his lights.

I wanted more than anything to be laying in the bed with him, to feel his body close to mine. I knew he wasn’t ready for anything more sexually intimate than what we’d done, and that was fine. But I still yearned to be close to him.

I was being patient, though. I could be very patient for Quinton; he was worth it.

Quinton, however, was not the most patient person, as evidenced by his tapping foot as we sat in my “batcave” on Friday evening.

“We have a list of suspicious people. Isn’t it time to start invading homes or whatever?” he asked, staring at the list of names and pictures on one of the screens. I knew he recognized some of the people, and I knew that he was angry.

“I wish it were that easy. These are suspicious people. Most of them aren’t hellbound yet—they’re just… murky souls. Take this guy,” I said, pointing to one of the pictures.

“Todd,” Quinton bit out. “Should’ve known that bouncer was evil based on his frat boy name and shitty pick-up line. ‘Todd, with extra D,’ he’d always say while leering at the guys. Like eww, Todd. No one wants your D, asshole.”

I resisted laughing. Yes, the guy on the screen did look like a frat boy asshole (not that all frat boys were assholes—fraternity houses had the same ratio of rotten souls as most other dorms and complexes).

“The problem is that Todd isn’t fully hellbound, so I can’t kill him. There’s still hope for redemption,” I reasoned.

“How about a little torture, then?” Quinton asked.

I did laugh then. “No torture either. Someone could be murky for lots of reasons. Todd has made a lot of questionable decisions. Maybe he knows that James leads really drunk guys out of the club. Maybe he realizes that something weird is going on, but he doesn’t know exactly what. He’s complicit, yes, but without really knowing, he hasn’t done irreversible damage to his soul. He could find out what’s really been going on, be totally appalled, and turn his life around in order to do better and help people.”

Quinton snorted in disbelief.

“You’d be surprised,” I responded. “We’ve seen it happen. Lots of people are morally gray, and sometimes there’s something that tips them over the edge, one way or another. They could have a wake-up call and turn their lives around. Or, unfortunately, they could justify it to themselves and just keep spiraling until they’re hellbound. Free will.” I shrugged. “We can’t know which way Todd will go. Torturing him could inadvertently send him toward being hellbound, when just learning about what happened could send him onto a better path.”

Quinton sighed. “But where are the really bad guys, then? James wasn’t murky, was he?”

“No. James was actively drugging people and handing them over. That’s a little different than looking away. He was rotten.” I clicked through some of James’s social media, stopping on a recent picture. “Even so, he was pretty newly rotten. He’s hard to judge on the internet. I needed to be in person to tell for sure that he was fully hellbound. Some of these suspicious people might be rotten, but I can’t say for certain without being near them. My computer skills are pretty good, but not perfect.”

“Your computer skills are fucking amazing, Sexy Stalker. You can, like, code which people suck and which people don’t. So don’t sell yourself short,” Quinton insisted, and I felt warm at his praise. “Where are the big baddies then, though? Like the people behind it? I’d think they’d be easy to spot.”

“The people in charge are smart. They’re not using social media, they’re not hanging out at the club excessively, and they’ve made sure they’re not traceable to the guys who do the dirty work,” I answered. “James knew very little. He had a contact number, but it was disconnected after he disappeared. Beyond that, he simply handed people off and had only a vague description of who he was handing them off to. They did most things by call or through untraceable chats.”

Quinton blew a breath out. “It’s Friday night,” he said.

“Yes,” I answered. It was, but I was unsure why that was important.

He rolled his eyes at me. “Aiden’s at home. Is someone here? Aside from us?”

“Yes,” I answered, still perplexed. Was he looking for an intimate moment? It didn’t seem like a sexy time, but why else would he wonder who was around and tell me Aiden was home? I stared at him, and he huffed and shook his head at me.

“We’re going to the club, Sexy Stalker,” he insisted.

Oh. Definitely not a sexy moment, then. I tried not to be disappointed. “I’m not sure…”

“Listen up, Mister. You’ll be there to protect me, and you’re all”—he waved his hand at me—“supernatural and shit, so it’ll be fine. You can’t keep me caged up here, you know. I’m, like, a free spirit and shit.” He crossed his arms and gave me a dirty look.

“I’m not sure who’s working at the club tonight,” I finished. “There may or may not be anyone on our list, but I should be able to access CCTV camera feeds from outside the club and scan faces for who went in tonight.”

Quinton breathed out a sigh. My little hellcat was so cute. He thought I wouldn’t let him out to play. Everyone knew you couldn’t keep cats contained, and I certainly wouldn’t try to do that to Quinton.

He looked thoughtful, then shook his head. “Nah. We’re just gonna go. You’ll protect me, maybe you’ll sniff out some evil, and we can drop some hints to the wrong people about being back next weekend. Maybe then we’ll get some of the wrong kind of attention when we do go back.”

I tilted my head. It wasn’t a bad idea, but Quinton was still a human, even if he was a hellcat at heart. I didn’t like the idea of putting him in danger by letting people know we’d be back. I didn’t want to face an ambush.

“I am not completely invulnerable,” I admitted. “I have no problem going tonight, but I’m not sure setting you up as bait for next weekend is a good idea.”

“You can get someone else to come along as back up next weekend. Besides, if someone took me, you’d find me,” he insisted.

“Of course I would, but you’re mortal. They could harm you before I did. It would take time,” I answered.

“I have faith in you,” he said, and I was touched at how sincere he was.

Still… “How would you feel about a tracker under your skin in your shoulder? Maybe the back of your neck?” I asked.

Quinton laughed and leaned in to kiss me. I wasn’t sure what was funny, but I opened my mouth to him, letting his tongue explore. I leaned toward him and resisted the urge to grab him by clutching my chair tightly.

It might have made a little creaking sound. Or perhaps that was a crack. Oops.

Quinton leaned back. “It’s early to head to the club, so we’ve got a little bit of time to kill,” he said.

I searched his eyes. I wouldn’t rush him, and I didn’t want him doing anything he was uncomfortable with.

He lifted a hand up and cupped my cheek. “Wanna make out?” he asked. He was smiling sexily at me, but he also looked a little unsure.

“I would absolutely love to make out with you,” I answered honestly. I would love anything Quinton gave me.

“Well, that computer chair isn’t really conducive to a good make-out sesh, even if all the clothes stay on,” he joked.

I sensed that he was also subtly laying boundaries down, and I was all too happy to comply. I didn’t move, letting him take the lead. He finally huffed at me and grabbed my hand, pulling me out of the chair and pushing me over to the couch against the far wall of my office.

He pushed me down and climbed onto my lap. I was already hard from kissing him, and he smelled so damn good. I gripped the edge of the couch, letting him set the pace.

He looked at me, putting both hands on my face. “Look at you, such a gentleman, my sexy stalker. Meanwhile, your eyes are on fire for me, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” I rumbled. My hellhound was scratching to get out, wanting to taste, to touch, to roll in the sweetness and bitterness of Quinton.

“Touch me, Sexy Stalker. Make out with me. Please.”

It was the “please” that undid me. I grabbed Quinton and pulled him into a kiss. He leaned into me, one hand running through my hair, kissing me back just as fiercely. We licked at each other, and Quinton bit down gently on my lower lip, causing me to growl and pull him down more firmly onto my lap.

His hardness pressed against mine, and I couldn’t help the little thrust of my hips. He groaned into my mouth, his hand pulling on my hair. I growled again, nibbling his lip this time before licking at it.

Our tongues danced together, our teeth nipped, and Quinton ground down into my lap, rubbing our hard cocks together. I gripped him firmly in my hands but let him set the pace. He could do whatever he wanted with me.

We were both panting, and he leaned into my shoulder to catch his breath. I bit at his neck, sucking the skin into my mouth. I tasted that bittersweet flavor of him again, like a tart raspberry in sweet whipped cream. I licked at the spot as he moaned against my neck, his hot breath against my skin.

“Oh god, Liam,” he mumbled against my neck, his hips grinding down into mine. The friction of his hard cock through his sweatpants against mine in my slacks was amazing, and I was thankful I didn’t wear heavy, coarse jeans. Layers of fabric separated us, but I felt the friction and pull as his dick dragged against mine. I could imagine what his bare cock would feel like sliding against mine.

I sucked harder at his skin. I wanted to mark him. If we were going out into the world, into danger, I wanted my scent and my mark on him. He moaned louder, and I bit down, unable to stop myself, growling.

His hips thrust faster against me as he cried out, “Yes! Liam!”

He moaned loudly, and his hand reached down between us, rubbing both our dicks at the same time, pushing them together through the fabric and keeping the friction steady. I bit harder, tasting blood, and somehow it was just as bittersweet as all of Quinton was. I sucked on his neck, and his hips faltered, a cry falling from his mouth as I growled.

His body stiffened as his orgasm overcame him, a cry bursting from him. His frantic hand on our cocks, our thrusting, and the taste of him in my mouth sent me over the cliff, and cum shot from my cock into my pants.

I let up from biting Quinton’s neck and softly licked at it, nuzzling and smelling him. I wanted to bathe in his scent. His hand had loosened, and he was leaning heavily against me. I held him against me, his body soft and lax.

His head was buried in my neck, and he murmured, “You’re sniffing me again.”

“You smell good,” I answered.

“You bit me,” he said.

“I did. Is biting acceptable behavior during making out?” I asked. If the orgasm was anything to go by, he enjoyed it, but perhaps I had overstepped.

He chuckled softly, lifting up to look at my face. He was smiling, so I didn’t think he was too upset. “A little nibbling is fine during making out, my sexy stalker, but I think we surpassed making out.”

“We didn’t take our clothes off,” I pointed out helpfully.

“No, we just came in our pants like two teenagers instead,” Quinton smirked.

“It was worth it,” I assured him. I didn’t care for the mess, and drying cum was certainly not a nice feeling. I added, a bit disgruntledly, “Even if I will need to buy more dress pants at this rate.”

“You know you can wash them or get them dry cleaned or whatever, right?” He laughed at me, getting up and reaching down to pull me up too. “Let’s go get cleaned up. I know you hate being messy. I need different clothes before we go to the club anyway.”

“We can stop in my room before heading to your place to shower,” I told him.

He looked at me, raising an eyebrow. “You’re coming to shower with me?” he questioned, and there were definitely some claws in the statement.

I gave him my best puppy-dog look. “Aftercare,” I murmured.

He sighed dramatically, but there was a little smile on his face as he said, “Alright, grab your shit and let’s go, Sexy Stalker.”