by H Q Kingsley
He gasped my name like a chant, and I flushed to hear it, my own cock hard and demanding attention. But I ignored it for the moment, focusing on what I was doing. I added another finger to Paddox's ass, working him open on them, holding his cock in my throat for a second before I pulled off, lips shiny.
"Does it feel good?" I asked him, watching him closely.
"Yeah," he panted. "Feels really good. I want you, Skylar, please."
I swallowed hard at the 'please.' He sounded so sweet for me, so desperate to have me inside him, and I couldn't say no. I worked my fingers in deeper, adding a third just to be sure. I didn't want to hurt him.
His hips bucked up, and I curled my fingers, finding that spot inside him that had him crying out softly. "Skylar, fuck," he groaned. "Please fuck me. Fuck, I need it."
I nodded, pulling my fingers free. With slick hands I lubed up my cock and pressed the tip right at his entrance, bracing myself on my other hand above him.
His hands went for my hips, holding me steady, and I let out a breath and started my slide inwards.
The first inch had me gritting my teeth, fighting against just burying the rest of my dick in him. He felt so fucking good. His walls clung to my cock like they wanted it in there just as badly as I wanted it to be in there, and I pushed in more, inch by inch, filling him up.
His hands were almost bruisingly tight on my hips, and he had his eyes closed, savoring the feeling.
When I bottomed out, I had to stop, had to breathe through it. He was so fucking tight, and I could feel that pleasure beating like a drum along with my heartbeat, threatening to take over and end things before they'd really gotten started.
"Paddox?" I asked, checking in on him.
He opened his eyes, and they were soft and adoring as he looked at me. I'd never seen anyone look at me like that before, and I had to swallow hard against the tide of feelings washing through me.
"Come on," he said. "Move. Move for me, baby."
The pet name again. Fuck, what was I doing? I couldn't resist him, and I moved my hips, drawing my cock out before pressing in again, going slow and steady.
He wrapped those strong legs around my waist, dragging me in deeper, closer, and his hands went to my shoulders, pulling me down so he could kiss me, clearly not caring that my mouth had just been on his cock.
Our lips moved together while my hips snapped forward and rolled in undulating waves, burying my cock in him again and again.
He took it so well, gasping and moaning for me, his breath warm against my face. We were just mere inches apart, staring into each other's eyes while our bodies were joined, and every time I hit that spot in him, I could see Paddox losing himself in the feeling of it.
He was gorgeous like this. Free and open, letting himself be taken. I wanted to look at it forever. Or for as long as I was allowed to.
"Paddox," I moaned, and he went tighter around me, making me swear softly. "You feel so good."
"So do you," he said back, breathless. "So fucking good. I can't get enough."
He tightened his legs and dragged me in even deeper, and I reached between our bodies to find his cock, wrapping my fingers around it.
I stroked him in time with my slow, easy thrusts, and it wasn't long before he was breaking the kiss to moan my name. "So close," he panted. "I'm so close, don't stop."
"I won't," I promised him, working my hips faster, harder, making sure to hit that spot again and again. His cock pulsed in my hand, and soon enough he was spilling over my fingers with a soft cry, losing himself. For me. Because of me.
It was a heady thing, and I watched him, stroking him until he was spent and limp on the bed.
I thought about pulling out and finishing myself off with my hand, but he kept his legs locked, keeping me from moving. "I want you to finish in me," he said with a lazy smile, and I huffed out a breath.
That would not be a problem.
Just seeing him like that, lounging on the bed like a pleasured god, had me close to my peak, too. I snapped my hips faster, sinking into him, focusing on the drag of my cock against that velvety heat inside him.
"Come on," Paddox urged. "Come for me, baby. I want you to."
And how was I supposed to resist that? I couldn't. It was like a command, spoken softly, and I was losing it right after, burying myself deep in him and coming hard.
I ended up sprawled on top of him, cock softening while I caught my breath. Paddox's hand was in my hair, stroking it gently, and I was so tired from the day and from the sex that part of me didn't even want to get up to clean up the mess. I could wash the sheets in the morning.
As if he was sensing my laziness, Paddox laughed and got up enough to hunt for his boxers on the floor, using them to wipe up the mess as best he could.
"There," he said. "Now at least we won't be sticky when we wake up."
"Mm, I'll take that," I said.
We configured ourselves better so he was holding me and we were under the covers, and I knew I was going to be asleep sooner rather than later.
Paddox nuzzled the back of my neck and pressed a kiss there gently. All of it was so soft, so sweet, and I wasn't immune to it. It was more than I'd ever felt for anyone before, and I didn't know how to handle it.
"I love you," Paddox whispered, and I didn't know if he thought I was asleep or if he was just saying it, but I inhaled sharply and then...said nothing.
I didn't know what to say. My mouth opened but no sound came out, and I laid there, still and silent until the even breathing behind me signaled that Paddox had fallen asleep without an answer.
Fuck. What was I doing? This was not part of the plan. It would have been fine if I could look at Paddox and tell him I felt nothing, but...that wasn't true. I didn't know if it was love, but it was strong and it was there. I didn't want to see anything happen to him, and I didn't want to lose him.
But what choice did I have? I'd already set things in motion.
Paddox deserved better than me. He deserved someone who would love him and not use him the way I had.
Finally, with all of it weighing on me like a ton of bricks, I let myself sleep as well.
15
Paddox
I woke up the next morning feeling warm and comfortable for all of about ten seconds. Then my words from the night before came back, and I was immediately freaking out. Not even the soft light from the window and the warm, steady breathing of Skylar next to me could calm me down.
I'd told him I loved him.
Was I insane?
The words had slipped out because I'd been feeling so blissed out and comfortable with him, but fuck. I barely knew him. We'd barely been doing this for any time at all, and there were so many reasons why I should have just kept my fucking mouth closed.
He hadn't run for the hills, which was...I don't know, a good sign, I guessed, but maybe he'd been too wrapped up in the sex to really pay attention. Maybe he'd wake up and tell me to leave and then call it off.
I was always the one who fell too hard, too fast, but sometimes I couldn't help myself. Skylar had been talking about how he wanted to keep me safe, and he'd felt so damned good, and it had felt so right the way he looked at me with those big, blue eyes. I'd just said what I was feeling.
I bit my thumbnail, chewing on the skin around it. A bad habit from when I was younger that I'd mostly trained myself out of, but it came back every so often when I was nervous. Like right then.
I half wanted to wake Skylar up and apologize or try to take the words back, but maybe that would just make things worse? What was the protocol for telling someone you loved them when it was way too early?
Usually, it was the other person leaving and never calling me again, so at least I had practice with that. Patrick would kick my ass for making things awkward, and I could already hear him in my head, talking down to me and saying that this was exactly the reason why we didn't date the help. He'd be pissed, for sure, but when wasn't he pissed at me lately?
The worst
part was I knew it was all true. I did love him. There was a way he looked at me, like I wasn't a failure or a fuck up or just some crime boss. Like I had more to offer than even I knew. He listened to me when I talked and he watched me paint, and I knew I was actually in love with him.
Fuck. Fuck.
Laying in bed stressing about it wasn't going to do any good. I could slip out, maybe cut down on some of the awkwardness. Or just I could stop being dramatic and make coffee.
Maybe it would all be fine. I could hope, anyway.
I edged away from Skylar, trying not to wake him, and swung my legs over the edge of the bed so I could get up. There was a pair of jeans crumpled on the floor, and I couldn't remember if they were mine or Skylar's.
In the rush to get our clothes off the night before, pants had ended up everywhere. I smiled at the memory and reached down to pick them up, shaking them out so I could see if they were mine or not.
A few pieces of paper fluttered to the floor, and I picked one of them up, glancing at it briefly and then frowning when I saw my name on it. I looked closer and Patrick's name was there, too, along with a list of places and dates. They were drop offs, if I remembered right. Places we'd sent large caches of guns to just a week ago.
I grabbed another of the notes. More names. Contacts we had and the locations of their operations. I knew Patrick had been meaning to meet with them, and it hit me that they were probably the ones he'd taken Skylar to meet with a few days before.
Another note had the plan for the pick up scribbled on it, almost exactly as Patrick had laid it out for us.
I stood there, staring down at the little pieces of paper in my hand, brow furrowed and heart racing. Skylar worked for us, technically, but no one had notes that detailed. I didn't even keep notes that detailed, and I was half of the damned leadership.
Behind me I could hear Skylar stretching in bed, smothering a yawn.
"Hey, you," he said, his voice scratchy with sleep. "What're you doing?"
I turned around, holding up the pieces of paper, not saying a word, and the color drained from his face. "Where did you get those?"
"They fell out of your pants," I said, sounding wooden and blank. I didn't know how to feel.
"I can explain," Skylar said.
"I sure fucking hope so," I retorted. I threw the notes on the bed and folded my arms, glaring down at him. "What the fuck is going on, Skylar?"
He let out a shaky breath, sitting up and raking a hand through his hair. I hated that even right then when I was probably about to hear terrible news, I still found him attractive. I watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard, seemingly searching for words.
"Don't lie to me," I said, and I hated how broken I already sounded.
"I...I'm a cop. I work with the FBI," he said. "I've been working undercover to bring you and your brother down."
It was like having tunnel vision as his words hit me. Everything narrowed to a point, and I kept hearing those first three words over and over again in my head. I'm a cop. I'm a cop. I'm a cop. Before I knew it, I was shaking. My arms were still folded, but it was more like I was trying to hold myself together.
Funny how just a few minutes ago I'd been freaking out about telling him I loved him, and now I was wishing like fuck I could take it all back, but for a completely different reason.
I knew I was going to cry, and I hated myself for it. I was supposed to be stronger than that, but I didn't know how else to react when I was being told someone I cared that much about had basically fucked me over.
"H-how much did you give them?" I asked.
Skylar licked his lips. "Everything. That's why I didn't want you to go to the docks for the pick-up. They're going to be ready for you, and I don't want you to get hurt."
"You should have fucking thought about that before you sold us out to the fucking FBI!" I shouted, my voice breaking at the end. I couldn't help it. I was furious with him, but mostly I was just sad.
I'd been open with him. I'd told him things that I'd never told anyone, not even Patrick. About my fears and how sometimes I wanted to run away. I'd handed enough information about myself that he could do whatever the fuck he wanted with it, and there was nothing I could do take that back.
"Paddox—”
"Don't," I snapped. I sniffed, feeling the tears well in my eyes and spill down my cheeks. "You...you used me. You pretended to give a fuck about me, and I fell for it. I was stupid and desperate enough to fucking fall for it!"
"You're not stupid."
"I clearly am! Patrick was right. I lose my goddamn head for anyone who pays attention to me, and I could have ruined everything because I went and let you—” I broke off, crying too hard to keep yelling at him. "I'm out of here."
I wiped my eyes and hunted for my clothes so I could leave. I didn't want to look at him for one more second while my heart was breaking in front of him like some goddamn daytime TV show.
He scrambled out of bed to stand near me, and I didn't even let myself glance his way. He didn't deserve it. Not now.
"Please just listen to me," he begged. "I'm sorry. I didn't want it to turn out like this."
"How did you think it would turn out?" I demanded. "You'd just keep lying to me until I got arrested or worse? Where the fuck are my pants? I have to go."
"It wasn't all a lie, Paddox," he insisted, his tone pleading. "I swear to you it wasn't. I care about you. I can fix this, if you just let me try."
"Why should I? Why should I believe anything you say anymore?" I asked, storming out of the bedroom and finally finding my pants in the hallway. I yanked them on and headed into the living room where I was pretty sure my shirt was. Every time I thought about what we’d been doing the night before, I felt sick.
I felt like I couldn't breathe. I felt hollowed out, like someone had taken a melon baller to the soft, vulnerable parts of me and turned me into a husk. I was going to have one of those headaches from crying, and I wiped angrily at my eyes again. I had to get out of there. I needed to get some air.
"I can protect you," Skylar said. He'd grabbed a robe and was wrapping it around himself, looking at me with those big blue eyes. "They only want Patrick."
Rage cut through my sadness, and I whirled around to glare at him. Anger was good. I could hold onto the anger and let it keep me from doing something stupid because my heart was broken.
Skylar was standing there, telling me he could keep me safe at the cost of my brother after he'd played me for a fucking sucker, like that was supposed to make things better.
How could I have been so fucking blind and stupid? There were so many things that hadn't added up. So many times I could have realized what was going on, but I was dumb and so happy someone seemed to like me finally, and I'd let it happen. Skylar had fucked us over, but I had myself to blame for a lot of it. He'd played me so easily, and I'd let him.
Patrick was right. Patrick was always right.
"Fuck you," I spat, taking a step towards him with my hands balled into fists. I wasn't going to hit him, but fuck, in that moment, I really wanted to. "I'm not gonna betray my brother, you asshole. Not for you or anybody else. He's all I've got. He's always been all I've got. Whatever happens, we're going to face it together like we always have because at least we know what loyalty means. We don't go around lying and playing with people's feelings."
He opened his mouth like he had something to say, but then closed it again, shaking his head. I let out a slow, controlled breath and pulled my shirt over my head. I felt better having clothes on, less exposed and vulnerable.
"You need to get out of here," I told him. "You need to...I dunno. Get out of the city. Fuck, get out of the state. Run, and don't look back."
"You know I can't do that," he said, sounding resigned.
"You'd fucking better. Because if Patrick finds out about this, he's gonna kill you. He'll kill you and not think twice about it." I paused on my way out of his apartment. I turned back to him. “He’ll fucking kill you,” I said
, swiping at tears. “And I won’t stop him.”
***
Get Twin Trouble (The Cop & The Criminals, Book 2): Get it Now!
Excerpt of Kinkdom
Antwon
I brushed back Karlyle’s bangs to place a kiss on his forehead. He was adorable when he slept, his face mushed into the pillow and his bright-pink lips puffy with sleep.
After seven and a half years, I still thought he was one of the most handsome men I’d ever seen. How many people could say that? How many people could honestly look at their spouse and think, damn, I landed a hottie?
He groaned and caught my hand as I tried to step away from the bed. “Where are you going so early?” he asked, his voice groggy with sleep.
“Quinn needs a ride to work this morning. I’m going to drop him off before Greyson.”
He groaned again. “You should tell him to take the train. Both of them.”
I smiled. “I should, but I won’t.”
He kissed the back of my hand before he let me go. “I know you won’t. It’s why I love you.”
“I love you too,” I whispered as I walked to the door.
“Wait, babe!” Karlyle propped himself up on his elbows to look at me. His salted, dark hair was matted to his face on one side and his grey eyes glimmered against the white of our bedspread. His lips turned up at the corners as he looked at me. “Happy birthday! I’ll be here tonight to celebrate. Promise.”
I grinned back at him, wondering if he really would be there when I got home from work. He’d never missed a birthday before, but things were different lately. He was more important now. Busier. “Thank you,” I said, reaching for the handle on the bedroom door. “I’ll bring home something special. We should celebrate you too, Mr. Top-Five Surgeon.”
Karlyle’s face lit up, but his eyes seemed far away. “Sounds good, babe.”
I nodded, pushing out of the door with a soft sigh. There seemed to be so much unsaid between us lately and it was getting harder and harder to convince myself that it was due to his hectic schedule. Harder and harder to convince myself not to check his phone when it buzzed at two in the morning. Harder and harder to ignore that he smelled like lavender soap after a long day at the office.