Page 14 of Parting Shot

I didn’t want him to run. More importantly, I didn’t want him to order me to stay away from him.

“Get your dick out so I can suck it,” he directed softly, still twitching, his body overstimulated, overly sensitized, and quivering with the sensation of coming down from the euphoria of his orgasm.

“Just let me hold you, all right?” I said, gathering him in my arms, pressing him tight to my chest, the pain of no consequence, and I kissed his forehead. “Can I be your shelter for just a sec?”

He gave me his weight, sort of melting over me, and I sighed deeply. He was vulnerable, and I was there for him. It felt good to not only be wanted, but needed too.

THREE

He didn’t want us to separate to walk into the lobby, but I insisted. He got out first, and minutes later, I followed, having collected my duffel from the trunk and thanked the driver. I wasn’t sure if I should tip him, but from the fact that he didn’t pick up anyone else but simply drove away, I had a feeling that Mr. Sutter had compensated him already.

Inside, Aaron waited, and I joined him in an elevator you had to put a key into before the buttons would light up for the higher floors. Apparently, the suite we were going to was the penthouse.

“Holy shit,” I said, awed at the spectacle once I was inside.

The room was huge; you could see the skyline and park from the enormous terrace, and the windows and the city lights … I was overwhelmed.

“This is gorgeous,” I gushed. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He appeared to be in pain.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

I gave out a very undignified snort of laughter. “Are you kidding?” I opened my arms wide for him. “Come touch me. Put your hands all over me.”

“I want to suck your cock,” he almost yelled at me. “Why won’t you let me?”

“You think I’m just gonna come down your throat without showing you a paper that tells you I’m clean? What kind of ruthless prick do you think I am?”

He charged across the room, stopping just inches from me, staring deep into my eyes. “I know all about your many, many conquests. I checked you out backward and forward, just so you’re aware, Detective.”

“Did you?”

“Yes, I did.” He was adamant. “I wanted to learn every dirty little secret you had, and guess what. Besides the being-gay thing and the fucking-anything-with-a-pulse thing, you don’t have any skeletons at all.”

But that was a lie, and we both knew it, because if he had checked me out like he said, then he knew there was a piece of my life that was hidden away. But we weren’t talking about that, not about ancient history. We were talking about now. And there was nothing recent—that was true, nothing new—but there were things he would never know unless I offered them up.

“You might think you’re all badass, but in comparison to people I know, you’re a damn Boy Scout.”

He was trying to sound all pissed off and tough, but all I saw were his puffy lips, the stubble burn on his cheeks, the flush of sex, and the hickeys on his throat. The blown pupils, slight tremble, and tousled hair were all dead giveaways of sated passion.

“You wanna go to bed?” I asked.

“Pardon me?”

“Do you … want me … to take you to bed?”

He nodded as he stared up into my face.

“What happened to feeding me and a hot bath and all that shit?”

His eyes were turbulent. “I’m—I feel sort of off-balance.”

I grinned. “That’s okay. Me too.”

He scowled. “How do you simply speak your mind?”