Page 81 of The Fighter

He leaned back on my thighs and faced me. His eyes were no longer wet, but sorrow lurked there in the shadows. His fingers played over my face, running along the scars and crooked ridge of my nose, across my lips and then back up to tangle in my hair. Finally his gaze met mine. “I’ll try. That’s all… that’s all I can promise right now. I’ll try.”

I believed him. Con didn’t make promises lightly, and he kept them. He wasn’t going to change overnight, just like I wasn’t. We both had scars and wounds that ran deep. “That’s all I’m asking.”

He smiled, a real one. “One thing I have let myself think about was that if I had given in to Devlin all those years ago, I probably wouldn’t have met you. But you had to go through hell to get here, and…” His jaw shifted, and his eyes went misty.

“And we’re here now. That’s what matters.”

His lips parted, and I swore I saw a bit of the old Con, the one he must have been over a decade ago before he let the guilt descend and taint everything about him. He pressed his lips to mine, and the kiss turned deep quick as he plundered my mouth with his tongue. His cock pressed against mine as he rolled his hips on his lap. He separated us an inch to whisper, “Fuck me, Tav.”

I groaned. I had never been much for topping, but being inside Con was a fucking dream. “Get the lube.”

He shook his head and spit on his hand before reaching back behind him. “No time.”

I snorted. “There’s plenty of fucking time, Con.”

He shook his head, eyes flaring like blue crystals. “No. I want it to hurt a little.”

I stiffened. “No, I?—”

“This isn’t a punishment thing.” He shoved his pants off and reached into my briefs. “I just want to feel you for days. Please, Tav.”

When he wrapped his fingers around my cock and tugged it out of my briefs, my eyes rolled back into my head. “Spit,” he ordered. I let my spit drip out of my mouth to coat the head of my cock. His measured breathing dissolved into hard pants as he coated my shaft with my spit. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

And then he rose up onto his knees and lowered himself onto my cock. His muscles resisted at first, and I almost pulled away, but Con was nothing but persistent as he dropped down, inch by agonizing inch until I was fully seated in him. A beautiful blush covered his chest as he arched his neck and began to fuck himself onto me. I held his hip with one hand and braced myself with the other behind me, staring at the place we were connected, at his hard dick bouncing between us with precum glistening the tip.

We were fast and dirty, all harsh groans and skin slapping until I felt my balls draw up tight. It seemed too soon, but Con’s thighs were shaking, and he jerked himself with one hand while staring into my eyes. “Come inside me, Tav.” He rasped. “Fill me. Fill me so fucking full.”

“Con,” I moaned as my head fell back. I gave it up then, my hips bucking as my cock pulsed inside of him. He came on a soft cry, cum shooting all up my chest and over his hand. He went lax against me, slumping into my chest like the dead.

I held him for a moment as the orgasm glow faded, and our breathing returned to normal. Then I pressed a kiss on the top of his head and cleaned us both up before shuffling us into bed. Con fell into an exhausted sleep immediately, his head on my chest, his fingers laced with mine.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Conrad

Outside my office, Tav was making chocolate chip cookies with Holden while Amara relaxed on the couch with a book. I watched them, unsurprised that Tav and his nephew had managed to get flour all over the counters and themselves. I swore I saw egg yolk drip from a cabinet over my sink.

I shifted where I stood leaned against my desk with my hands braced behind me, my ankles crossed. Even now, two days later, I still felt a twinge in my ass from taking Tav. I wished it hurt more. Longer.

“Conrad.” Nik’s voice drew my attention, and I shifted my focus to him and Ben. Both looked weary, and I felt the same. While Tav had been reconnecting with his sister these last few days, Soto had been busy. Our attack on Devlin began with the warehouse and had escalated into more—a gas explosion at his club, assaults on his drug caravans, and random beat downs of his men. The city was on fire. We had them running scared. Devlin was no longer looking for Amara, because he had toretreat and go underground to lick his wounds and likely plan on how to retaliate.

I leaned back on my desk, hands braced behind me and my feet crossed at the ankles. Ben stood at my window staring out at the city as he chewed his lip in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. Nik leaned forward in his seat, elbows on the knees of his spread legs. His tattooed knuckles flexed. “So what’s next?”

“Next phase.” I drummed my fingers on my desk.

“There has to be some other way.” Ben spun around and leaned a shoulder against the glass.

“There isn’t,” I said. “We don’t know where he is. Our inside man has been shut out, because Devlin only has his most trusted crew with him now. He’s bunkered in like a failing dictator.”

“Then send someone else?—”

“He’ll kill anyone else, and you know it,” I snapped.

“How are you so sure he won’t kill you?” Nik’s toe tapped the ground, the only sign of his nerves.

“Because he won’t. At least, not right away.”

Nik blew out a ragged breath and pushed back in his seat, unable to look at me. While Nik had been with me back when I was still friends with Devlin, he didn’t know him as well as Ben and I did. I glanced at Ben, who just shook his head sadly at me. “I hate to say it, but Conrad’s right. Devlin won’t kill him. He’ll make him fucking miserable, but he won’t kill him.”