Page 30 of Donovan's Men

He met me at every turn.

Finally, I pulled our bodies flush together. As cock brushed cock through denim, I thrust my hips, seeking friction.

“We can’t.” He said the words as he pulled back.

“Ten minutes. Mutual blow jobs. We don’t even need a bed.”

Tyson chuckled. “You’re going to be the ruin of me.”

“But what a way to go.” I tried for a lascivious leer.

My attempt fell flat as his eyes sharpened. “All I have is my job, Donovan. I lost just about everything else in the divorce. If I’m not a cop, then I’m not anything.”

“That sounds a little extreme.”

“How would you survive if you couldn’t be a stunt coordinator?”

“I’d become a professional Dom.”

His eyes widened.

I chuckled. “Yes, a professional Dominant. And I’d do quite well at it.” I cupped his cheek. “But you’re right—I’d miss the set every day. Miss my coworkers. I’m lucky that my job’s secure.”

“No morality clause?”

I guffawed. “Would my boss fire me if he found out I liked to whip women and fuck men into submission while chaining them to my wall after flogging them? Nah. Valentino’s pretty progressive, and plenty of people in the movie business dabble in elements of BDSM and other, uh, kinky pursuits. Our props master is way kinkier than me. Oh, the stories I could tell you. What she gets up to…”

“We need to go.” Tyson’s cheeks held a pinkish tone.

“You embarrassed?”

He shook his head. Then pressed another kiss to my lips. “Intrigued. Like I said, you’ll be the death of me.”

He opened the front door, and a blast of cold air hit us.

I snagged my keys but fumbled.

He removed them from my hands, locked the front door, and we headed out. He pointed to my ride. “I would’ve taken you for a muscle car.”

“Cole’s influence.” The hybrid SUV was handy, economical, and didn’t contribute as much to climate change. “He’s threatening to buy me an electric vehicle, but without a garage, it’s hard to charge the thing.”

“Fair enough.” Again, Tyson opened my door.

As I slid in, I winked. “I can do up my seat belt.”

He grinned. “Yes, but it’s so much more fun when I do it.”

So I left my belt undone until the cop settled into his seat. He leaned over, and I raked my fingers through his hair, ensuring my nails scraped the scalp, as he buckled me in.

“Fuck, that’s such a turn-on.” Yet he didn’t reciprocate. Instead, he settled back in his seat, secured his seat belt, turned on the car, and smoothly pulled us onto the street. Within moments, he had us easing into rush hour traffic. “So you drug dialed the doctor? How did that go?”

I snickered softly. “About how you’d imagine. I poured out my heart to him. Talked about the shooting…I think. I also seem to recall saying something about wanting him at my mercy while you watched.”

“Like, BDSM and stuff?”

“Yeah, like BDSM and stuff. I might’ve suggested mutually agreed upon catharsis.”

Tyson turned left onto Rupert from East 14th and then quickly caught a green light and turned onto Grandview Highway.