Page 121 of Until August

“You want me to stop?” I asked, releasing him.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled, guiding my head back down.

I laughed and wrapped my lips around him and my hand around his balls, rolling them in my hand, feeling their weight and squeezing gently.

That was all it took. His body went rigid, and his abs tensed as I sucked and licked with my hand wrapped around the base as I coaxed an orgasm out of him.

“I’m going to come,” he warned, his voice strained, giving me time to move before he came inside my mouth.

I sucked harder, eliciting a deep, guttural sound from the back of his throat as I drank every drop of him and swallowed it down.

When I sat back in my seat, I licked my lips and threw him a smile. “Mi piacce il tuo cazzo.”I like your dick.

“You and your dirty Italian… you’re killing me, babe.” He shook his head and focused on the road again.

Then he reached for my hand and threaded our fingers together, and I could taste him on my tongue all the way to LA.

* * *

I liked Nash immediately. He reminded me of Cruz, although I’d never tell August that.

It was his mannerisms. He had the same way of giving you his full attention when you spoke. Not that August didn’t do that. But with Nash, it was different.

Obviously, I didn’t know him, but he struck me as calm and rational. Even keeled and steady.

“So you two go way back?” I asked from my spot at the counter, wedged between the two men.

Nash nodded and took a sip of his mint iced tea. He had smooth brown skin and tight black curls cut close to his head. A crucifix with wings was tattooed on his right arm. “Almost twenty years.”

“What was he like as a teen?” The question was for Nash, but I flashed August a smile.

August raised his brows as if to say,Haven’t we already covered this?

“I want your friend’s opinion,” I said as if he’d spoken. “Don’t pretend you didn’t pump Scarlett for information about me.”

“I didn’t. She gave it freely.”

That didn’t surprise me.

I sighed and gave Nash my full attention while August focused on the bowl of paella he’d just been served. The guy was such a food nut that he couldn’t believe we didn’t want paella at ten in the morning.

“Was he a lot different than he is now?” I asked Nash.

“He was more of a hothead back then. Got into a lot of fights.” August didn’t dispute that, and it didn’t surprise me. “But mostly to protect Damon.”

“Damon?” I looked from Nash to August.

August shook his head like he was warning Nash to keep his mouth shut, but either Nash didn’t notice or chose to ignore it.

“Damon was our other foster brother.”

“What happened to him?”

Nash and August exchanged a look. August answered. “He overdosed on heroin two years ago.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry. You were close?” August had talked about Nash. I knew he ran a construction company. I knew they’d met in a group home and that he’d given August the truck he drove and gave him a job when he got out of prison. But I didn’t know anything about Damon.

“We were tight,” Nash said, his voice hesitant.