Page 75 of Shadow Waltz
I stripped out of my jeans and briefs in one practiced movement, baring myself, reveling in the way his gaze raked over me—hungry, awed, possessive. He pushed my thighs apart, sinking to his knees behind me, mouth hot against my lower back, biting hard enough to leave a mark. I moaned, shivering, arms instinctively sliding behind my back—a position he clearly loved.
He pressed his palm between my shoulder blades, urging me down until I knelt again, my chest tight with anticipation. He was a force—older, stronger, every inch of him earned and honed. I drank in the sight of him, heat pulsing through me.
“Look at you,” he murmured, voice dark silk. He took my chin, guiding my face up, his cock hard and heavy, resting against his thigh. “On your knees for me, hands behind your back. You know exactly what I want, don’t you?”
I nodded, tongue flicking out to wet my lips, gaze lingering on the sculpted lines of his body. He watched my eyes, reading every flicker of want, every hint of hunger.
“Worship me,” he commanded, his tone somewhere between invitation and order. “Show me how much you want it. All of me.”
He raised an arm, flexing for effect, muscles bulging. I watched, spellbound, as he brought his bicep close, the warm,masculine scent of sweat and cologne hitting me all at once. My breath stuttered. He pressed the inside of his arm to my face, and I dragged my tongue along the curve, tasting salt and skin, licking the sweat from the hollow of his pit.
He groaned, hips twitching, a possessive hand holding my head in place. “Good boy,” he muttered, voice wrecked with approval. “You like that? You like how I taste?”
I hummed in answer, letting my tongue wander—along his bicep, his chest, tracing veins and scars, nipping at the hard plane of his pecs. I mouthed at his nipple, teasing, tugging it between my teeth, rewarded by a sharp intake of breath as his hand tightened in my hair.
He moved me to the other arm, guiding my mouth to the crook, rubbing my face in his pit, letting me taste, letting me worship. His free hand caressed my jaw, fingers brushing my cheek with gentle authority. “All that attitude and you melt for this, huh? You want to belong here, on your knees, with your tongue on my skin?”
“Yes,” I whispered, mouth pressed to the warm flesh beneath his arm, emboldened by the way he shook for me. I bit him, licked him, marked him as mine even as he marked me.
He stepped back, placing one foot up on the table, cock angled up, veins standing out. “You know,” he murmured, voice smoky, “we could let your guard in here. He’s been listening this whole time, hasn’t he?” His eyes sparkled with challenge, dark amusement. “You think I didn’t notice you came with security? What would he do if he walked in and saw you here, licking my sweat, begging for more?”
A blush climbed my cheeks—shame and arousal twined together, making my heart hammer in my chest. I glanced toward the door, half-wondering if Troy could really hear us, if he’d really dare to interrupt.
But then the idea took hold, dangerous and thrilling. I locked eyes with Reddick, mouth curling into a wicked smile, and called out, loud enough for the words to cut through the heavy silence: “Troy, can you come in here a second?”
For a moment, everything stilled. Reddick’s grip tightened on my jaw, surprised, a flare of jealousy warring with curiosity in his storm-gray eyes. But he didn’t let go—if anything, his hold became more possessive, his other hand stroking down my neck, his thumb pressing at the hollow of my throat.
The door opened, and Troy stepped inside. His eyes flicked from my flushed, exposed body to Reddick—naked and unashamed, silver hair gleaming in the light, body powerful and lean and seasoned with the years. For a moment, Troy’s face was all professionalism, the briefest shadow of worry flickering across his eyes.
“Everything all right?” he asked, tone perfectly even. But when I winked at him—just a small, conspiratorial twist of my mouth—he caught on instantly. His composure cracked, a slow, dangerous grin breaking across his lips.
“It’s more than all right,” I said, voice low and loaded. “Close the door.”
He did, locking it behind him. Reddick arched an eyebrow, looking from me to Troy, as if weighing whether he was willing to share—then, with a slow, appreciative sweep of his gaze, he nodded.
“You want him?” Reddick murmured, hand still on my throat. “Tell him what you want, pretty boy. I want to hear you say it.”
I turned to Troy, watching him slide out of his jacket, broad shoulders stretching the fabric, muscles rolling beneath his shirt. “I want you to join us. I want both of you.”
“Consent?” Troy asked, voice deep, always careful.
I met Reddick’s gaze, making sure I wasn’t crossing a line. “Do you want him?”
He didn’t hesitate. “I want to watch you come undone for both of us. I want to see you on your knees for him, too.” There was that silver-fox heat in his eyes—hungry, proud, commanding, every line of his body promising power and control, every salt-and-pepper hair a badge of hard-won experience.
Troy grinned, hands working at his shirt buttons. He stripped slow, every move calculated, eyes on me the entire time. When he peeled off his slacks, he stood naked and proud, the thick line of his cock already hard, a challenge and an invitation both.
Reddick circled behind me, hands gripping my shoulders, thumbs digging into tight muscle as he leaned down and murmured against my ear, “You going to show us how hungry you really are, sweetheart?”
I shivered, the nickname sending a pulse of heat through my veins, even as I smirked over my shoulder. “You both look like you’ve been waiting for this. Maybe I should make you beg.”
Troy chuckled, moving closer until the heat of his skin seared against mine, his hands gentle but commanding as he ran his palms down my chest and over my abs, tracing every line, every scar. “Keep talking,” he rumbled, voice dark and teasing. “You’ll be on your knees soon enough.”
“I’m already on my knees,” I shot back, but there was no bite in it—just anticipation, heady and wild.
Reddick stroked down my spine, letting his fingers spread my ass, his touch almost reverent as he admired the way I tensed beneath him. He pressed a lingering kiss to the base of my neck, then trailed his mouth along my shoulder blades, nipping and licking, biting marks into my skin.
Troy moved in front of me, body looming, his scent a mix of sweat and clean soap. He flexed his arms, making his tattoos ripple, and brought one bicep to my lips. “Taste,” he said, low and commanding.