Page 9 of Redline Communion

“Come on,” he says. “Don’t let me be the only one naked here. Show me the goods, Ash.”

I bark out a laugh despite myself.

“Alright, alright. Calm down. I’m going.”

I strip.

Rafe lifts a brow when he notices what I don’t have on.

“Commando. Sexy.”

“Shut up.”

He comes toward me, one hand closing around my throat firmly enough to get my attention while the other settles hard at my hip.

We both pause.

For once, neither of us looks away.

Then he does something disgusting and deeply Rafe — drags his tongue up the side of my face just to make me swear before kissing me again.

I kiss him back hard enough to make up for several years of bad decisions.

I need him now.

My hand catches his hip, and when I pull back, I don’t even get the question out before he reads it on my face. That should irritate me. Mostly it does.

The rest of me is too relieved I don’t have to say everything.

“On the floor, the mechanic creeper, or the workbench?”

“The creeper.”

He lowers himself onto it.

“Come here.” He’s already grinning like he knows exactly how much I’m about to hate enjoying this. “I’m not rushing you just because you finally stopped being an idiot.”

I move over him and immediately discover there are still new ways for Rafe to make me regret having nerve endings. My hand braces against the floor as his mouth finds me.

“Oh. Fantastic.”

Apparently I like this too. Add it to the growing list of things I could have learned about myself years ago if I weren’t committed to suffering recreationally.

Rafe grips my hips and keeps me where he wants me.

“Oh fuck. Yes. Right there.”

My entire body tightens as he works his tongue against me. I reach for my cock because apparently one humiliation at a time is no longer the rule tonight.

Of course he’s good at this.

That feels personally offensive.

He changes the angle and nearly takes whatever control I thought I still had with it.

“Fuck you, asshole, for being so damn good at this.”

He laughs.