by H Q Kingsley
Patrick wasn't like Paddox. He was harder, colder, more willing to do whatever it took to get to the bottom of something when it bothered him, I was willing to bet. And if he found some reason to think he was right about me hiding something, I didn't doubt he'd act on it, and I'd probably end up dead.
Kathleen had told me to be careful every time I met with her, and I needed to take her advice, which meant keeping an eye on Patrick and not letting him get the jump on me.
I noticed we'd taken a turn away from the warehouse, and I frowned, glancing over at Patrick. "Where are we going?" I wanted to know.
"Don't worry about it. You go where I say you go. Perks of being the boss," he replied.
I glanced at him, my eyes narrowed a bit, but I didn't say anything. He was harder to read than Paddox, too, which wasn't giving me a lot of confidence just then.
A few minutes later, we were pulling up at the docks.
"Get out of the car," Patrick said, and I obeyed, stepping out and following him to an open area.
It seemed like no one else was around at first, but then I caught sight of a group of guys standing off to the side. Dock workers, I assumed at first, writing them off while I waited for Patrick to get the point of why we were there.
But then he snapped his fingers, and the guys came over. There were six of them, all tall and bulky, and they were eyeing me like they were sizing me up.
"Take him down," Patrick said, and I realized, almost a second too late that he was talking to them and telling them to attack me.
I barely had time to react before the first punch was thrown. These were men who were clearly used to brawls, and they rushed in, each ready to get a hand on me.
Luckily, I had a fast reaction time and good reflexes. I ducked the first punch and threw one of my own, knocking the first guy back just in time for the second one to duck in and try to grab me.
Being outnumbered was never fun, and I didn't have time to think or stop or barely even breathe. I was ducking and dodging out of the way of attacks, taking some of them just so I could give as good as I got back. It was mostly instinct that carried me through it, but I was breathing hard and I could hear my blood pounding in my ears while I fought back.
I tripped one of the guys, sending him crashing down to the wooden dock and then aimed a kick at his side, sending him rolling off into the water with a splash.
One of his friends yelled and rushed me, trying to grab me and probably throw me in the water with his friend, but I managed to pound on his back until he let me go, and I kneed him in the crotch, sending him dropping down like a stone.
I was going to be sore in the morning, but I'd deal with that once I came out of the fight alive.
I used the strength of the others against them, sending them crashing into each other and careening away. I aimed kicks for their dicks and fought as dirty as I knew how, and in the end, I was the last one standing.
It took a second for me to notice I'd won. The rest of them were either in the water or on the ground moaning in pain, and I finally relaxed my stance and dragged in gulps of air while I tried to slow the frantic pounding of my heart.
The sound of clapping reminded me I wasn't alone, and I turned to see Patrick standing there, clapping with a thin smile on his face.
"Good job," he said, his voice laced with condescension.
"Are you fucking crazy?" I demanded.
The adrenaline was still pumping through me, and I couldn't believe what had just happened. Maybe he actually was a lunatic. He'd brought me to the docks just to have me jumped, and for what?
"I'm not crazy," he replied, rolling his eyes and sounding like he couldn't have cared less about what he'd just done. "I just wanted to see you in action."
It was such an entitled response, and I was fucking mad. I hadn't been expecting to have to defend myself against six fucking guys that night, and if that was what he expected from me, just for his amusement, I was done.
"I don't need this shit," I said and started to walk off. I needed a shower and a strong drink before I did something I'd regret.
Patrick followed me, reaching out to grab my arm. "I want to promote you to my personal security," he told me. "Full time. I just had to be sure you could handle it. I think you can."
I just looked at him, not sure if I should trust it. He clearly liked to play games with people, and it could have just been another one them.
"Say thank you," he said, smirking. "I don't usually chase after people to give them good news."
I sighed. This whole thing was bigger than me. I had to do what was best for the job, and getting that close to Patrick was an opportunity I couldn't turn down. Assuming he'd let me in the first place.
"Thank you," I said.
I blinked against a sudden haze of red in my left eye, and I realized I must have gotten cut during the fight. I could barely feel it, but there was a slow drip of blood down my face.
I would have just gone home to take care of it, but Patrick noticed, and he pulled me to one of the little boat houses along the docks. It was clearly a spot he was familiar with, and I made a mental note of that, watching him rummage for a first aid kit.
I sat down heavily on a bench, letting out a ragged breath. It felt like it had been a very long day, and now I was in a small space with Patrick who I was pretty sure was off his rocker.
His hands were surprisingly gentle, though, when he came over with a cotton pad soaked in alcohol and started cleaning the wound on my head.
I winced at the sting of it, but let him get on with it, watching when he threaded a needle to stitch it up.
"Stay still," he said, and I obeyed, closing my eyes while he worked.
"Where'd you learn to do this?" I asked him, part out of curiosity, part just to have something to say so we weren't sitting in silence.
He snorted. "You spend enough time bouncing between group homes and abusive foster homes, and you learn to patch up a wound. No one was going to take us to the hospital if we needed stitches."
There was a bitter edge to his tone, and I remembered what Paddox had told me about their childhood. "I'm sorry you had to grow up like that," I murmured, and I actually meant it.
"Don't ever feel sorry for me," Patrick snapped, pulling the thread tight. "I'm the goddamned king of the city. I don't need or want anyone's sympathy."
Yep. He was definitely a lunatic. A lunatic with something to prove and a chip on his shoulder, which was the most dangerous kind.
"Are you always such a dick to everyone or is it just me and Paddox who get special treatment?" I muttered without thinking. At least he no longer had needle in my skin. I was going to blame the pain for making me lose my mind and talk out of turn, but to my surprise, Patrick just laughed.
"You're insane," he said, which was ironic considering how we'd gotten into this situation in the first place. "People don't talk to me like that. No one has the balls to."
I just shrugged, getting up from the bench. I was tired enough not to care. "Maybe I just don't like being pushed around."
"Oh no?" Patrick asked.
He stepped closer to me, his eyes intent, and before I could say anything, he had a hand wrapped around my throat and was backing me up against the wall, pinning me in place.
For a second, I just stared at him, but then the adrenaline was back, and I was fighting my way out of his hold, pushing him away and closing in on him.
He grinned, and it was clear he wasn't letting me go that easily.
He tried to grapple me, but I was faster than he was, but only just barely. Apparently, he was more than just talk and could actually fight.
We ended up toppling to the floor of the boat house, rolling around while we wrestled each other, both of us trying to come out on top.
I'd nearly have him pinned and then he'd managed to break out of my hold. He had the bulk and the strength to go toe-to-toe with me, and I wasn't at my best, so he ended up on top, pinning me down while we both panted hard.
&
nbsp; I looked up at him, my chest heaving. "No one's been able to pin me in years," I said, breathless.
He stared down at me, saying nothing, sweat pouring from his face. “It wasn’t as easy as I thought it’d be,” he confessed, breathing hard. “You’ve got a lot of fight in you.”
I stared up at him—he still had me pinned in place—and I was suddenly very aware of his weight on top of me. Very aware of the flexing muscles in his arms as he held me down.
Suddenly, I wasn’t sure if I was breathing hard because I was tired or...turn on?
What the hell was wrong with me?
I started to try and wiggle out of his hold and froze when he leaned in and kissed me. Hard.
I only hesitated for a moment before I was kissing him back without even thinking about it.
The adrenaline was still pounding through me, and when he bit down hard on my bottom lip, I couldn't help the moan that echoed around us.
He didn't kiss anything like his brother. Paddox was gentle, each kiss soft, like a seduction. Patrick was all teeth and tongue, forcing my mouth open and laying claim to it like he knew he already owned it.
Just like with Paddox, though, I was helpless to resist being swept up in it.
I should have been home, messaging Kathleen to set up a meeting so I could tell her about the shipment I'd heard was coming in, but instead I was on the floor of a boat house, making out with the craziest motherfucker I'd ever met in my life. Which was saying something, considering my line of work.
Almost as suddenly as it had started, Patrick was stopping, pulling away from me and shooting to his feet.
"I'm sorry," he said, still breathing hard. The words seemed foriegn coming from him, and he raked a hand over his neck, his face scrunching in confusion. "I shouldn't have done that,” he said, seeming to gain his composure. “I don't know what I was thinking."
I blinked, feeling cold without him on top of me, and I got to my feet as well, trying to hide the fact that I'd definitely been turned on.
"I'm sorry, too," I said quickly.
There was definitely a feeling of guilt building in me because of what we'd done and the fact that I'd liked it. More than liked it.
But I'd just slept with his brother the night before, and it felt a little bit like a betrayal to be so hot and heavy for Patrick.
I shook my head at my own ridiculousness. What the fuck was I doing? I wasn't a lovesick teenager stuck in a love triangle. I was a fully-trained agent. An agent with a job to do and orders to do it in whatever way I needed to.
Patrick was the person I needed to be getting close to. He was the one in charge, the one making all the deals. Whatever I had to do, I needed to do it, guilt be damned.
So I closed that distance again, my determination set. I pushed into him and kissed him hard, making my intentions clear, and he grinned against my mouth like he'd been waiting for it.
Probably he had been. It was hard to imagine anyone being this close to Patrick and not wanting him.
He grabbed my ass hard, and I made a low noise into the kiss, almost yelping when he bit down hard on my lip. He wanted to play by his own rules, that much I could tell, and I wondered if I was bold enough to let this crazy asshole have control.
Patrick pulled back from the kiss, his eyes blazing, and he grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking my head back forcefully.
His tongue skimmed up my neck, and he left a line of small nips that burned with untamed heat.
Thankfully, he didn't bite down too hard, leaving no marks behind. Of course he was a man who knew how to cover his tracks.
My breaths came in harsh pants, and I could feel myself getting hard already. He looked so much like Paddox, but that was the only way they were similar. Paddox had been all about service, making sure I was pleased, and Patrick...Patrick just wanted to ruin me. I could tell. I could see it in the dark clouds in his eyes.
He was grinning, still gripping my hair and he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. "You want me to use you right here in this boat house?" he asked. There was a low pleasure in his tone that said he was going to do it whether or not that was exactly what I wanted.
"If you can," I bit back because I couldn't help myself.
Patrick didn't want to be challenged on most things, and something about doing it felt right. Seemed to make him stir in this hot, feral way that made me unravel.
He laughed in my ear and then bit down hard on the shell of it, making me shudder.
He used that grip on my hair to force me down onto my knees and tip my head back so I was looking up at him.
His eyes had gone completely dark with lust as he looked down at me, and I was hit with the reality of what was probably about to happen.
"You look good down there on your knees," he said, still grinning widely. "Like a slut who can't wait to get a cock in his mouth. Is that what you want, Skylar? You want my cock in your mouth?"
I did. I couldn't deny that. If his cock was half as good as Paddox's, then this would all be worth it in more ways than one.
But I didn't give him the satisfaction of an answer, which just made him laugh more.
"Stubborn.” He sucked his teeth with amusement. “I can roll with that."
His grip tightened in my hair, and he used his free hand to get his cock out, and it was already half-hard. From what I could tell, it was shorter than Paddox's, but maybe a bit thicker, and my mouth watered at the sight of it.
But I wanted it fully hard if this was going to go down.
I reached for it, taking the initiative, and stroked it slowly, dragging my fingers over the soft, warm skin that covered the steel core of him.
His breath stuttered, and he let me go so I could lean in and spit right on his cock, slicking the slide of my hand against it.
"Fuck," he groaned. "Yeah, I knew you'd know what to do with a cock. Just like that."
I glanced up at him, flushing slightly at the praise, and kept working my hand, twisting the wrist and getting him nice and slick before I leaned in and licked him from base to tip.
Just like with everything else, it had been a while since I'd sucked a dick, but it was like riding a bike. The muscle memory came right back.
I made a show of savoring his cock, licking and sucking at the head before swirling my tongue around it, feeling it grow harder under my hand and lips. I'd half expected Patrick to be stoic through the whole thing, but he wasn't. He cursed under his breath and groaned at the attention I was paying him, eyes burning as they looked down at me.
As much as I tried to tell myself I was just playing a role, the more I got into it, the more I forgot about the reason I was there on my knees in a fucking boat house of all places. I was focused solely on the cock in my hand and pleasing this weird man standing above me.
I held his cock up and then licked my way down to his balls, tongue laving over each one in turn before I sucked one into my mouth and glanced up, watching Patrick's expression.
He was into it, letting me have my way.
I gave his balls some attention and then lapped my way back to the head of his cock, pleased to see he was already leaking precome. Never let it be said I couldn't do a thorough job.
"Fucking slut," Patrick panted. "You're good with that mouth. But let's see how good you can take it."
He fisted his fingers in my hair again and dragged me forward, rubbing my face against his cock. My nose was filled with the musky scent of his arousal, and I could feel my own cock throbbing in my pants.
"Fuck," I groaned.
"Open your mouth," he snapped, yanking me back, and I did what he said, mouth open and tongue out like I was some needy bottom in a porno.
I didn't care how it looked. He made me feel out of control, and there was no other time that I got to indulge in shit like that.
"Damn," Patrick said. "That's a good look for you." He rubbed his thumb over my tongue, and I drooled on his hand, unable to help myself. He just wiped it on his cock and then fed it to me slowly, pushin
g in inch by inch until my mouth was full.
I kept my eyes on him, watching his face while he rubbed his cock over my tongue. He tasted salty and clean, and I moaned around him.
"Yeah, you like this. Maybe this should be your new job," he taunted me. "Official cock sucker. I'll drag you around the warehouse and use you when I need a break."
My cock jumped in my pants at the image, and I didn't even recognize myself. That was the sort of thing that should have pissed me off, but instead, I was just horny for it, lost to the haze of lust and arousal.
Patrick moved his hips slowly, fucking his cock over my tongue and then to the back of my throat, stopping when I gagged. He pulled out for a second and then pushed back in. I was more braced that time, and I only spluttered a little.
He seemed to take that as permission to keep going, and the next time, he didn't stop at all, pushing his cock past the ring of my throat and making me swallow all of it. I choked a little, but swallowed it down, and then I had Patrick Henderson's cock in my throat.
Patrick held me there for a second and then pulled out, a bright, almost sadistic grin on his face. "Fuck, you take it so good. You look so fucking good with a cock in your throat," he said, and then rammed his cock right back in.
He didn't seem concerned with forcing me to take it for as long as he wanted to. Instead, he was using my throat like it was a sex toy or something, keeping a hold of my hair while he fucked into it.
All I could do was kneel there and try to remember how to breathe. It was hotter than it had any right to be, and I'd never gotten off on being treated like something to use, but for Patrick, I was on the verge of coming in my pants like some kind of horny teenager just because he was fucking my mouth and talking dirty to me while he did it.
My face was messy, tears springing to my eyes when he cut off my air for too long, drool and precome smeared around my mouth.
When he pulled all the way out and let me breathe, there was a string of drool connecting my lips and the head of his cock, and I was breathing hard, swallowing and gasping for air.