Page 29 of Resist Me Not (Bloody Desires #4)

Chapter fifteen

TREY

M aking Walker moan with my lips wrapped around his cock, mouth heated from the espresso, is pure bliss. Him returning the favor afterward is equally so.

I tucked myself between Walker and the coffee table, but when it is my turn, he stops me with a tug on my hair right before I know he was about to come and reaches around either side of me to push the coffee table further away to make room.

He knocks me onto my back, laying me out on the floor, and tugs my pants right down to my knees.

He is eager and energized and finally on the right side of sober enough that he is clear in what he wants, at least for the moment.

Walker holds some of the espresso in his mouth like I did and envelops my cock with that heat surrounding me. A chilled mouth doing this with wine is more pleasant than you might guess, but with heat ? Oh, with heat.

Heat is better.

Walker sucks me in until his nose is buried in my musk.

I twist my fingers in his hair, lightly rocking him there to start a rhythm.

I don’t even need another gulp of espresso, but when Walker pulls off to drink more and returns with renewed heat, my already sensitive and tenderized skin sings, and so do I, keening out a long moan with my head tipped back.

He sucks until I am as close as he was but makes me wait just like he held off himself. He licks my length, lips reddened and full, as he bats his gray eyes at me. “I want to ride you, Daddy. Can I?”

“Not here.” I am quick to clarify when his expression sinks. “But in the bedroom, absolutely.”

Walker scrambles off of me and drags me to my feet. We kick out of the tangled bunches of apparel at our ankles and lose the top halves of our clothes along the way to the bedroom.

Once in position on the bed, I start things just like when we were in the bath, cocks aligned to slowly rut, hands wrapped around Walker’s cheeks so my fingers can caress between them, prodding and preparing him.

Only unlike in the bath, this time, when I feel that he is open enough, I roll a condom onto my prick, lift him up and over it, and sit him right back down with it sheathed inside him.

“Yes… Please, Daddy…”

“That’s my good boy,” I say again. And again.

And again .

He rocks so unashamedly atop me, and because he is being such a good boy, I wrap my fingers around his cock and pump it in time to my thrusts.

Together, we reach even more bliss while Walker rides me until he is whimpering mess like he was on the phone, and we finish together with me still inside him.

Pure. Fucking. Bliss.

Yet somehow, I feel even more blissful afterward, clean and content beneath the covers, holding Walker against me in a comfortable spoon.

I expected he might overindulge tonight at his little party he told me about, but my remedy has him quite sober now and less likely to be miserable in the morning.

He is tired, I am as well, but rather than drift off, we talk about my time away.

Simple, normal boyfriend things to discuss, like how my mother is, what I saw on assignment, what other fascinating things I discovered besides phallic-shaped chocolates.

Even the mere mention of them again makes Walker chuckle.

Until he asks his next question.

“And the, um, other part of your job? If you did it, I mean?”

“You don’t need to know about that, remember?” I kiss Walker’s temple. Then the thin line of his scar. “You don’t really want to hear about it, do you?”

“Yes.”

“Yes… what?” For once I am not prompting Walker to say, yes, Daddy , but his mouth twitches like he was almost going to anyway, just as I was reminded of that repetition too.

“Yes… I need to know,” he says instead, because I needed to know he was certain, “I want to hear about it, because what my boyfriend does on his off hours is exactly what had me losing my mind all week. I’m sorry.

” He shifts in my hold to face me. “I get it, but I don’t, because it’s still really fucking difficult to reconcile, okay?

Kind of the first thing you learn growing up is that killing is wrong .

And part of me thinks I have to be crazy to even consider overlooking something that fundamental all because I…

really like you.” He finishes with another hapless laugh and shakes his head.

“I know you only kill bad people, people who you think deserve it, never innocents, but—”

“I didn’t say I have never killed an innocent.”

Walker’s face turns visibly paler. “…what?”

This is probably not the best time to bring it up, but I don’t want Walker believing a lie.

As his eyes widen and his breath quickens, he pushes up into a sitting position to stare down at me. “You’ve killed innocent people before?”

“Only when necessary.”

“How many?”

I hesitate but not because I don’t know the number.

I am continuing to take chances on Walker, but I promised him I would never lie to him again.

“Four. Over a decade of ridding this world of literal filth, there have only been four casualties of collateral damage, wrong place, wrong time, or someone who got too close to discovering the truth about me. I consider those losses worth the trade off.”

Walker is looking more green than pale now, as if enough of his inebriation lingered just to make his current nausea worse. “What about the detective?”

“You said he wasn’t a problem anymore.”

“He still could be! He’s like freaking Columbo. What if he keeps pushing and poking around?”

“Then I’ll take care of it.”

“You can’t kill a cop!” Walker is smart enough to not actually yell those words, but the fierce whisper-yell he chooses still gets his panic across.

I slowly sit up beside him. “I can if necessary, and I will if necessary. But that is why you do not need to know about this. I can protect you—” I try to brush Walker’s tousled hair from his forehead, but he lurches out of reach.

“Tell me about the four. Tell me who they were. Tell me why you killed them.”

This will get us nowhere but I can tell he won’t willingly let this drop.

“If you insist. Early on, before I had settled into my more practiced routine, a homeless man discovered me while I was cleaning up a body I had killed in an alley. The second was a victim’s business partner, who showed up unexpectedly after I’d finished bagging the body.

She wasn’t as terrible as her partner but not squeaky clean either, so I don’t lose sleep over that one. ”

I don’t lose sleep over any of them, because again, I did what I had to do.

“The third was a police officer who had put too much together and confronted me—without backup. His poor decision. That was in a very distant city from this one. The fourth… “I hesitate this time because I know Walker is not going to like hearing about the last one.

“The fourth ?” he prompts impatiently.

I hold his gaze. “It was someone I was seeing.

Dating. A few dates. A few trysts over a handful of weeks.

It was during one of my overseas assignments, so I was in her city longer than I usually stay in one place.

I foolishly let my guard down around her, and she followed me one night, much like you followed me to Saks.

She thought I was cheating but instead found me repeatedly stabbing a man who had killed three of his wives and was onto his fourth.

“She screamed. She wouldn’t listen to reason, wouldn’t listen to me , so I had no choice but to silence her.”

I see the panic attack about to descend on Walker and try again to reach for him.

He lurches off the bed with a gasp. “I… I-I can’t—” But his knees fail him and down he goes.

I am off the bed and at his side in moments, easing him to rest more comfortably against the side of the bed with his legs outstretched.

I keep any touch on him steady and soothing, a grounding hand on his shoulder, the other tucked behind his back, rotating with little circles, and then soothing up and down his spine.

I just tell him to breathe, that it’s okay, everything will be okay, in as soothing of a voice as I can. But he’s crying, so much more than he has in my presence before now, like the need to sob had been building the entire time I was away. He’s scared but conflicted, and all I want to do is help.

“Please believe me, Walker,” I say, moving the hand from his shoulder to gently press it over his heart. Walker brings both of his hands up to cover it, keeping it there. A good sign. “Everything will be okay. I would never hurt you.”

He shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut while tears continue to leak from them. “H-how can you be sure… it won’t ever be necessary to silence me too?”

“Because I was going to kill you but I didn’t.”

His eyes snap open. “…what?”

I press my other hand over his. “When you were on your way to the police station that first time, I had no way of knowing whether your intent was to turn me in. I resolved myself to kill you, but I couldn’t. Do you understand how monumental that was for me?”

Walker’s breathing picks up again. “You think not killing me is some sort of sweet nothing?”

“It is. Despite sparing you going against all common sense, all self-preservation, and every instinct in me, I couldn’t bear the thought of harming you, even if it might mean my life was over.”

The admission calms him like I hoped, his breaths evening again, and he takes a few slow inhales and exhales before responding. “You were going to kill me even though you didn’t know for sure if I was turning you in?”

“Yes but—”

“And what if I do? What if I still do? What if I can’t take this anymore one day and just blurt it all out and betray you?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly, “but I do not believe anything could change this feeling you stir in me. I did not feel it for the lover I killed. I have only ever felt something close to this for one other person in my life.”

“Who?”

“My mother. Not the same feeling of course, not exactly, but as much as she protected and cared for me, I now get to protect and care for her. I want that. I feel called to that. And I feel the same urge to protect and care for you, my good, good boy.” I pull my hands from beneath and atop his to gently take hold of his face and brush away the remaining tears starting to leave his cheeks sticky.

He reaches to reconnect with me, not to pry my hands away but to rest his over them. He isn’t actively crying anymore. He isn’t gasping for air or having trouble focusing on my face. He is with me, steady and centered, much as some conflict lingers in his eyes.

“Do you feel better now?” I ask.

“Y-yeah. A little.”

“Would you like for me to go?”

Walker’s hands over mine press more firmly, telling me his answer even before he shakes his head.

“If I am to stay, would you like for me to carry you back onto the bed?”

He sniffles, laughing a little like his opposing thoughts aren’t sure whether he should feel mirth or misery. But he nods, and even though he is still a bit breathless, cheeks flush, and eyes watery, he doesn’t flinch from my hold when I help him up and scoop him into my arms to lay him on the bed.

He slips under the covers and reaches toward me to pull me back into bed too. With how we spoon, my right arm wraps around his waist, and he is holding it to his stomach, gently fingering my ring. Perhaps its compass rose design led me to him, because everything about this feels like fate.

There is one thing I have yet to ask him. “With me is not the only time you have had such panic attacks, is it?”

“No. I used to get them more when I was younger. My claustrophobia can trigger them.”

“Yet you still let me blindfold you.”

He glances back at me. “I trusted you. And it was nice. I never felt panicked while my eyes were covered because I knew you had me.”

“I still have you. Do you still trust me?”

I appreciate that Walker answers honestly too. “I don’t know, but even if this means I really am crazy, I want to.” He looks forward again and snuggles into my hold. “When I’m with you, you’re too difficult to resist.”

“Do you want to resist me, Walker?”

“I don’t think I can.”

It isn’t quite an answer, but it is enough that he wants to trust me and let me stay.

We fall asleep like that and don’t wake again until morning.