Page 353 of Incisive

Said like a man willing to lay down his life to protect his pets from any and all threats.

I turn and set my mug on the nightstand, stretch out alongside Jordan’s body, and push my index finger between his lips, next to Leo’s finger. “Our perfect…little…slut,” I whisper.

Jordan softly moans around our fingers, his eyes still covered while his tongue eagerly does all those deviously talented things Leo’s taught him throughout the years.

Leo’s taught him a lot of things, I’m certain, considering the man’s particular skill set.

You can’t teach love or loyalty. You have it, or you don’t.

Jordan absolutely has it.

I think about Stella and, yeah, I willfully choose to believe her change of heart at the end of her life was genuine, that her claims of loyalty to the rule of law were genuine, as were her words of love to me. Choosing to believe that allows me to find a modicum of peace.

Just like I now willfully choose to believe my men had absolutely nothing to do with Grace Martin’s death.

Especially not Jordan.

Because I’m loyal and I love, too.

Irrationally so.

I meet Leo’s gaze and barely nod.

His desperate relief cements my choice and ensures my peace and his.

And, most importantly, Jordan’s.

“Thank you,”he silently mouths.

I long-blink, making him smile, making the tension bleed from his body.

Making his cock finally start inflating.

Maybe it took me too many fucking years to make certain decisions.

This one?

I can be incisive now because this decision’s easy.

I lay my head on the pillow next to Jordan’s head, look Leo in the eyes, and pull my finger from Jordan’s mouth. He tries to chase it but I clamp my hand around his throat, my gaze never breaking from Leo’s.

“Who do you belong to,slut?” I whisper loud enough for Leo to hear.

Leo smiles and pulls his thumb from Jordan’s mouth so he can answer.

“You, Mister President,” Jordan says.

“That’s right. Good boy.” I grab Leo’s hand and make him stick two fingers into Jordan’s mouth, where our boy immediately starts sucking again.

Leo’s other hand still covers Jordan’s eyes. So I reach over, hook my hand around the nape of Leo’s neck, and pull him closer. “And who doyoubelong to, Mr. Cruz?”

He smiles. A sweet, brilliant smile. A loving smile.

A loyal smile.

“You,” he says. “I’ve always belonged toyou, Mister President.”

THE END