Page 35 of Whips and Chains (Saint View Murder Squad #2)

“Okay, sure, keeping telling yourself that. Let’s say it’s a biological response that I want to make you come again then.”

The heat in my neck flamed across the sides, up my throat and straight into my cheeks. It only blazed brighter when Whip leaned across the bed and found the promised bottle of lube from X’s top drawer.

I eyed it with my nose wrinkled. “You know that’s probably covered in—”

Whip shut me up with a glare. “Don’t say it.”

Fair call.

He lay out on the bed, the bottle of lube on the mattress between us.

Fuck, he looked good. All muscled legs and abs and biceps. He wasn’t as bulky as I was, but he wasn’t as slim as X was either. He had the solid body that came to a guy in his thirties, but he’d kept it.

And he had the sort of cock all guys wished for. Big and thick.

Suddenly, the thought of him fucking me with that thing jumped into my mind.

My dick kicked at the very thought, and it was like a damn magnet, drawing me down onto the bed next to him, even though the idea was also fucking terrifying.

There was no way I was taking that thing in the ass.

And yet I was lying down next to him.

It was him who reached for me, grabbing me by the back of the neck and drawing me onto my side so we were facing each other. I moved so stiffly I was practically robotic.

Whip noticed and only shifted in closer. “Stop fucking thinking.”

“I’m not.”

“Bullshit. Your every thought is written all over your face. I’m not gonna shove my cock in your ass, Levi. Calm down.”

The reassurance should have helped me relax.

And yet the feeling that rushed in was disappointment.

Yeah, wasn’t fucking going to admit that one to him either.

He studied me. “Do you want to talk about the prison? What happened to you there?”

Oh, fuck off. I was not doing that with him. He could go play therapist with Doc. “I’d rather bite off my own dick that talk about that with you.”

He sniggered. “Whatever, Levi.”

I hated that I found myself leaning in to kiss him again.

Told myself it was just to shut him up because I hated that he could read me, while I still couldn’t read him.

At least when we were kissing or I had my hand around his dick, I understood him.

I felt the way he thrust into my lubed-up hand, and heard his moans and saw the sharp intake of breath when I rolled him onto his back and covered his body with mine.

He didn’t need to say a word for me to know what he wanted. What he felt.

It was obvious.

Because I wanted it too.

I groaned, burying my face in his neck and sucking him there while he writhed beneath me.

He spread his legs, opening them up for me, our cocks rubbing against each other until mine was as lubed-up as his was.

“Fuck,” he groaned, panting hard. “You feel so good.”

I couldn’t talk, I was that damn hard.

I fumbled with the tube of lubricant and awkwardly squirted more onto my palm. Bracing my weight on one arm so I could use the other to get in between us. I stroked my cock, getting it slick, the lube mixing with both our precum.

Whip rocked his hips beneath me, searching out contact.

My dick slid along his balls and lower to press against his taint.

He grabbed my head, forcing his lips onto mine.

“Fuck,” we both moaned in unison.

I couldn’t stop.

A memory from years ago, when I was first sent to prison, rocketed into my brain.

But this time, it wasn’t the walls closing in on me or the claustrophobic panic that swamped my brain whenever I was forced into a tight space.

It was a memory I’d locked up tight because it had only happened once and then I’d sworn I’d never let it happen again.

Whip’s blue eyes stared up at me.

I couldn’t look at them anymore.

I shoved him over onto his stomach and bit down on his muscled shoulder, my dick finding the crease between his ass cheeks.

He groaned as the tip of me prodded his ass, lubing him up.

God, it felt fucking good. I rubbed my cock there, moaning at the way he moved, encouraging me, pushing back against the pressure I was putting at his entrance, getting himself ready for when I thrust inside.

And fuck, I wanted to.

But my head was suddenly full of ghosts again.

Ones I couldn’t get rid of if I just did what my body was screaming for and thrust deep inside him.

I reared back onto my knees. “I can’t do this.”

Whip buried his face in the pillow, so his words came out muffled but still understandable. “I’m fine. Do it.”

God, I so wanted to. But something kept me rooted to the spot, even though my dick craved being back between his cheeks, thrusting across his asshole.

Whip lifted his head and twisted to look back at me clearly having a mental fucking breakdown.

A tremble racked my body, and I couldn’t stop it. I stared at the wall above his head and tried to fight off the surge of panic that rushed in.

But I was back there in that prison cell, the first night I’d been shoved in there.

With a bag over my head.

And hands holding me down.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Levi.” Whip moved, rolling onto his back again and sitting up, squeezing my arm, bringing me back into the room.

I blinked. “There’s no air in here,” I wheezed.

“There is. You’re okay.”

I nodded fast, hating that I was doing this in front of him. I didn’t want him seeing me like this. Didn’t want anyone seeing me be this fucking weak.

So I kissed him instead.

He pulled back instantly, trying to talk, but I wouldn’t give in.

I kissed him until he shut up and kissed me back. My hands found both our cocks and jerked us both in unison. I built us back up to a place where neither of us could talk, all we could do was feel.

We came at almost exactly the same moment, my balls drawing up, a delicious ache spreading through me, my grip tight. His dick jerked in my hand, his cum spurting from his tip, landing on his stomach.

I joined him a second later, spreading cum over the top of his, marking his abs and his chest and his thighs.

I stared down at the mess we’d made, breathing hard, the release feeling good but my head an open wound.

“Levi,” Whip said.

I gave him a deadpan stare. “Don’t fucking ask me to talk about my feelings.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“What then?”

He shrugged. “Are we gonna tell X what we did on his bed?”