Page 35 of Resist Me Not (Bloody Desires #4)

Chapter eighteen

WALKER

“ W hose wallet is this, Doctor Hammond?”

Fuck !

“Mine,” I lie—too freaked, too obviously and completely guilty. “I needed a new one.”

“This doesn’t look brand-new to me. May I take a look?”

“ No .” Oh God, why do I suck at this? I can feel the need to use my inhaler rising with my panic.

“And why not?” Detective Clancy is totally going to look inside it, and then everything is fucked, because he’ll know Trey is hiding. “I assume it’s empty if it’s new.”

Only it isn’t because it’s Trey’s and he’s still carrying around the photo of me that he took from Curtis, which might not mean anything to the detective without me explaining, but it doesn’t help.

“Maybe I’m in the market for a new one myself—”

“It’s mine .” I grab it off the counter. What else can I do? What the fuck do I do? “And I already have sensitive things in here, so—”

“Mr. Fisher!” Detective Clancy calls, turning away from me and heading straight toward Trey in the closet like he already knows he’s in there. Shit! “Best if you come out now!”

He’s armed. He has a gun, and you just know he’s the type to be quick on the draw.

Meanwhile, Trey is completely helpless in there, crammed into the closet all because I panicked from the start with no choice now but to—what?

Tackle the guy? It’s all going to end in disaster if it gets to that point.

It’ll cause too much noise, draw attention from the neighbors, the gun might even go off and hit one of us.

I’m not thinking, I can’t think, I just act—and pull out the largest kitchen knife from my wood block, moving swiftly up behind the detective. He’s wearing his fedora but not a jacket. There will be little resistance where I need to aim, and I know exactly where that needs to be.

“This will all be easier for you both if—”

I could have killed a bear with how forcefully I stab him, still not thinking, barely breathing. He doesn’t even cry out, just stiffens, flails back with both hands as if trying to grab the knife, but it doesn’t matter if it’s pulled out now, so I yank it free with a sickening twist.

He drops. He just drops. And I know he’s already dead.

I killed him.

Trey opens the laundry door, practically leaping over the detective’s body like he anticipates needing to catch me. I don’t know how I stay standing. I don’t know how I don’t feel like panicking. I don’t know how I’m breathing again like I didn’t just alter the course of my life forever.

“Oh, Walker, you were wonderful .” Trey says it hushed and husky like he has never been more enamored with me.

He takes his wallet from my left hand and tosses it to the floor.

Then he wraps his left hand around my right that is still holding the knife, like he’s cradling it lovingly in both of our grasps.

“You needn’t worry about a thing, my dear, brave, good boy.

I will take care of everything. But thank you, thank you for taking care of me. ”

My eyes that were staring blankly shift sharply to Trey’s face. That’s what I did, isn’t it? I was taking care of him. Protecting him. Protecting us . And not only for my sake. Or even our sakes. Because we both help people, don’t we? I did the right thing.

Didn’t I?

“I will take care of the body. I will take care of everything,” Trey repeats, “but please, please , my good boy, my darling doctor, my Walker… let me take care of you.”

He is hard against my thigh. He is as rock solid as I have ever felt him. And though my eyes drift over his shoulder to the body oozing blood from the wound I inflicted, I know I want what Trey is offering. I want him to take care of me. I want him to take care of everything.

So I don’t have to think for a while.

“Please…” is all I say in answer, and Trey lifts me onto the island.

The knife is still in my hand— our hands—which Trey pins to the countertop as he lays me back. I let go of it, and he slides it further up and away, contaminating more of the surface, but that doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter—he’ll take care of it. He’ll take care of everything.

Trey presses down on my wrist like a silent command for me to keep it there, so I do. Then he drags my jeans down, my underwear down, and devours me until my tip tickles his tonsils.

Fuck!

I don’t even know how, because it should be impossible for me to be hard right now, but I pulse so thick so quickly in his mouth, I moan louder than I probably should have screamed. I should be screaming.

I just killed someone.

But even with Trey between my legs, sucking like he could swallow all the remaining guilt I feel for what I did, I can’t see the detective from this angle, and I’m glad.

I am so glad. I don’t want to feel that guilt.

I surrender to Trey’s ravenous need to reward me, to thank me for what I did, and let my head loll back.

FIRST DO NO HARM stares back at me.

I don’t know what that means anymore.

I don’t know anything anymore other than that I don’t want Trey to stop.

He has never swallowed me this deeply before.

The faint almost not-there grazes of his teeth where I am thickest at my base.

The little tongue flicks at the vein pulsing on my underside.

The warmth of his mouth and throat as he hollows his cheeks.

The hungry hums he keeps offering me like benediction.

The pure absolute hellfire in his eyes watching me when my eyes drift back to him.

“Trey, I… I-I’m going to—”

“Not yet,” he growls.

I mewl at the sudden loss of him, feeling an incessant impatience to just come, to feel that wonderful flood of dopamine and serotonin that can wash everything else away.

My eyes have just enough time to find the detective’s body again as Trey moves to the kitchen cabinets to grab my bottle of avocado oil.

There is so much more blood than before…

“I’ve got you,” Trey says, drawing my attention back to him with a gentle tug on my chin. It has to be true. It has to be. It must be. Trey has me because I am still not panicking.

I marvel at that so much as it dawns on me that I almost miss watching Trey shuck his own pants and underwear down and slather himself with the oil.

As nice of a view as that is, I focus more on his eyes.

They’ve never looked so purely black as they do right now.

Not hellfire anymore, because none of the nearby lights around us are at the right angle to shimmer there with him hovering over me.

With his attention only on me, no light shines in his eyes at all, his pupils and irises blending together so all I can see is the dark—and myself reflected in their perfect, black pools.

Trey bites his lip, tip at my entrance, but waits, like he has only just realized something and forces himself to hold steady. “I can grab some protection.”

I blink at him because the first thing my addled brain thinks is— the knife ?

Then I laugh because a condom was the furthest thing from my mind.

We have been through the hard talk of pasts and partners and being safe.

Of course that was before I knew he was a serial killer and “protection” around Trey can mean so many other things.

But if we are going to be each other’s and only each other’s from here on out, and I know we are, there’s no need.

That he still asked when this eager for me makes me want nothing more than to kiss him.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” I plead and drag him down by the collar of his shirt.

Trey spears me with his cock in the same instant that I spear into his mouth with my tongue. I want to devour him, for him to devour me. I want to lose myself in Trey’s embrace, his safe harbor, and finally just be free of everything that has ever made me lose my breath.

I don’t know how I’m breathing easier, heartrate steadying too, while being fucked on my kitchen island, bloody murder weapon only a small reach away, mouth sealed with Trey’s in a greedy kiss, but I am.

I am. And when I do finally pause for more breath, mostly to moan as Trey slams into me again and again, it’s not even with a gasp.

He really does take care of me. He really does make everything better, and I never want to lose that.

Even if it means I’ve lost my mind to think this way.

Like always, aside from knowing exactly what edges and corners of me to reach with each thrust, Trey also knows what I’m thinking and what I need to hear.

“You did it… for me,” he grunts, taking my hand where he left it pinned to the countertop and lacing his fingers with mine. “You did it… because you had to.” His other hand reaches between us to grip my cock. “You did it… because you wanted to.”

Yes…

“And I love you so much for that, my good boy.”

My eyes lock with Trey’s as my hips stutter, and I come into his hand.

“Because free and together… we can do so. Much. Good for this world.”

“ Yes .” I spurt even more over his fingers as if he summoned an extra pulse of pleasure from within me I didn’t know I could have.

Trey thrusts, thrusts, thrusts inside me, and I read in his eyes his hesitation before I lock my ankles around the small of his back and hold him there.

“Come inside me, Daddy.” I rock with him. “Come in me!”

He does with an explosion of warmth that eases everything else away, just like I knew it would.

He loves me.

He loves me…

I think I would have been okay if he could never say it.

He shows it in so many ways, like with the soft kiss he presses to my lips, then to my cheek over my scar as if it’s his—his precious mark on me, because he saved me from worse and sealed something between us when he tended to it.

Something he has never failed to prove he can do for me again and again.

Which is exactly what he does next. He takes care of cleaning us and even draws me a bath.

He leads me into the bathroom from the kitchen and is sure to stay between me and the body so I don’t have to see it.

He handles everything just like he promised and puts me to bed after I soak, so he can use the bathroom to clean up the rest.

I fall asleep at some point and don’t even know how much time has passed when I rouse to him climbing into bed with me and holding me against him. I can smell the espresso, either reheated or remade. He must have brought it in with him and set it on the nightstand.

Where I had already returned Mr. Zappy and Doctor Hoot.

I turn in Trey’s hold so I can sit up slightly and look at him.

“Is it…?”

“All taken care of.”

“Are you sure?”

Trey cups my cheek. “He was working solo, off the books. There is no trace of any of it now, I promise. Curtis’s case is closed, and you and I are going to be fine.

Because you saved the day.” He kisses me so slowly, I melt into the heat between us, maybe some that was lingering from my warm bath and being tucked in.

“It’s not too late yet for us to enjoy a nightcap and whatever else you need to feel up to tomorrow. And if you are not up for—”

“I am. I have to be, but… I really am.”

Trey smiles. “You didn’t need your inhaler. Or panic.”

“No.”

“That’s my good boy .” He kisses me again.

When he tries to turn and reach for the espresso cups, I hold him in place with my fingers curling into—well, not his lapels, because he’s wearing one of my shirts now, and his hair is damp, so I know he really has cleaned up everything, including himself.

I don’t want him to go yet, because I have to say it.

I have to say it.

“I love you,” I whisper against his lips and huff a little laugh as I add, “ Daddy .”

Trey laughs too, and when he pulls back only enough to look at me, I don’t know if his black eyes are voids, or demon-like with light reflecting, or just…

Trey , seeing me, but it’s enough. “I love you too, my precious, precious good boy.” He turns his head to kiss both of my hands holding onto his— my —shirt.

“Now, let’s have that espresso, hm? And you tell me anything and everything else you need from me tonight to take care of you. ”