Brawler (22 page)

When he groans and relaxes I wet my finger and make small circles, hoping to keep him relaxed. When he first feels me there he tenses, but then I gave his cock a good yank and he forgets what he is tense about. Rubbing the area further his head drops to meet his chest. He likes it.

“Then what?”

“Using only one finger,” I explain, “once I locate that specific bundle of nerves, it’s said to make your orgasm stronger.” Licking my finger again and moving into position I whisper again, “Much, much stronger.”

“Do it,” he begs me, with his back arched and knees shaking. He wants to come; he’s fighting it, and it’s fucking hot to watch.

Sliding my index finger in slowly, I need him with me, so I take my time. In case of any discomfort, I continue working his cock while I work my finger in deeper.

“How does it feel?”

“Fucking full,” he answers me back.

“Tell me when I’ve found it, Jonas,” I whisper. “And then I’ll let you come.”

“Get back over here where I can see you, now.”

“But I’ll have to start over,” I advise him.

“Don’t give a shit,” he growls. “Want to see you.”

So that’s what I do. Straddling the bench I reach for him, then he stands putting his cock mouth-level, then spreads his legs.

“Finish me.”

“With pleasure.”

Literally shoving his cock into my mouth he starts fucking it like it’s the first and last time he’ll ever come. Wondering what’s wrong I look up and see him watching in the mirror. Ah. So he’s enjoying it, then. Wetting my middle finger, I insert it easily and waste no time taking it as far as it can go. He needs to come, badly.

“Harder,” he orders, bucking into my mouth. So I suck harder, then finger-fuck him harder, too.

“Christ,” he growls, wrapping his fists in my hair. “More, dammit. It’s to your left, you’re right there just … gimme more.”

Thrusting my finger up higher and to my left, I feel him tighten. Ha! Found it! Holy shit, it really works! My jaw is cracking and my wrist is burning, and I don’t even care. He is gearing up for an epic release, and I did it. Me. I could do this for hours if that’s what he needed.

“Princess,” he groans. “I need to — I’m going to — ain’t gonna —”

That’s when it happens. When he tightens up I give one long pull with my mouth and lodge my middle finger deep, crook it, and send him so far over the edge his screams would be heard all the way to Canada.

I’ve never been a swallower. Normally I’d fake the swallow and politely spit it elsewhere, but not here, not with him. I take it all, take it down the back of my throat and make it a part of me. Removing my finger slowly, allowing him to glide from my mouth, he falls to the bench, pulling me to him.

“My ass is yours,” he says, burying his face into my neck. “You own it.”

Smiling to myself, I play with his hair and give him a few minutes to calm himself down. He mumbles and I can’t make it out.

“What’s that?” I ask him.

“I never knew.”

“Neither did I,” I tell him truthfully. “But it was beautiful, right?”

“It’s a close second.”

“To what?” I ask him, confused.

“To you,” he says, wrapping his arms around me. “Nothing is more beautiful than you.”

That’s when I melt. I’ve never felt that sensation, the one where your entire body just … kind of sighs in happiness. We stay on the bench for a bit. Cooling off, cleaning up, and putting the mats back we crack a few jokes, and it’s nice seeing him happy, it’s even better being one of the reasons for it. When we make our way back up, I smile again, knowing because I was with him being in the basement didn’t bother me, and he being with me, trusted me to put my finger up his ass. Thank god I got it right, was my last thought before we fell to the couch putting Ben and the rest of the day behind us.

N
ow that I can somewhat think again after having my mind and my O-ring blown, I decide I really hated Ben, the little fucker. From the first time I saw him I knew he had eyes for her, but today I felt certain he got the message. She’s spoken for. On the way home she asked me if I had a problem with her keeping her plans with him for the banquet, and to be honest, I do. Even knowing where her heart lies, I don’t want her fucking going let alone going with him, but I didn’t tell her that. Instead, we eat pizza, drank a two-liter of Faygo red pop, and started watching cartoons. Relaxing for hours we both take turns nodding off, but neither one of us moves off that couch or out of the other’s reach.

Now she’s studying and totally focused. She’s writing notes, chewing her pencil top, and totally caught up in what she’s doing and no lie, I could pass the day just like this, watching her. I’ve been trying to be a stand-up guy and do the getting-to-know her thing, but what I really need is a trip back to paradise, so tonight when the cartoons and studying are over, I’m going to get me another taste of heaven. Until then, I can replay what she did to me in the basement, because holy fucking shit, I didn’t know my ass had that kind of power.

Enjoying the quiet and the cartoons while she works, it isn’t until Rogan calls that my perfect day goes to shit. Picking up the phone I answer like I always do, except it isn’t him; it’s Venessa. She tells me to just listen, so that’s what I do, and before she finishes, I really wish I hadn’t. I hang up on her before she can finish destroying me.

I take what I hear, study the photos she sent, then I look over and really watch her work, my eyes cataloging everything. All the things I missed because I’m too fucking whipped to pay attention to the things I don’t want to see. Now I’m pissed for being duped, and even more pissed because I don’t know how to handle it and instead of reasoning that shit out first, I react.

“Macy,” I growl at her, but she tunes me out. “Macy,” I growl again, just louder. “Macy!” I yell, which gets her attention, and she sets down her pencil and walks over to me. She sits next to me, preparing to kiss me, but I push her back by her shoulders. She looks up at me confused and hurt, but tough shit, this is not the bullshit we need right now.

Palming my phone I bring up the message Venessa just sent to me. Scrolling to the top I enlarge the photo and hand it to Macy.

“Look familiar?” I say to her, but she doesn’t respond she just keeps staring. “Scroll down,” I prompt her, and when nothing is said, I take it further. “Still not jogging your memory? Here, try this one,” I offer.

“Why are you showing me this?” she asks, acting innocent.

“You’re good, Macy, I’ll give you that,” I bark at her. “You really want to play dumb right now?”

“Excuse me?”

“You should know what playing dumb means; you have that shit down to a science. The pictures, Macy. Tell me what you see when you’re looking at these fucking pictures.”

“How should I know?” she asks, still playing innocent while thumbing through. “Okay, wait, I recognize this guy, but he looked different last time I saw him.”

“He would look different, Macy,” I snap at her, taking the phone back. “Last time you saw him, he was
alive.
”

“And he isn’t now?”

“Knock it the fuck off!” I scream at her. “This guy’s name is Marcus Mason, he’s dead now, and autopsy confirms what killed him was a severe reaction to an unknown substance. Imagine my surprise when this Mason guy and four others are all found dead with your sauce in their system. Really imagine my surprise when Venessa tells me you chased these guys down and
injected
them with that shit behind my fucking back. Now pay attention,” I yell, getting in her face and leaning over her. “Imagine how I feel when Venessa tells me you went after these guys
alone
for fucking
research.
”

“I don’t understand what five dead guys have to do with me,” she says back. “I didn’t kill them.”

“Yeah, you fucking did,” I grate. “And guess what? No one, not the Cap, Venessa, Rogan, or I can do a damn thing to save you, either. You were sneaking out of your house for this shit? Every goddamn night I sat out there making sure you were safe, and you’d fucking play me like this? Fuck you, Macy.” Walking away from her isn’t hard at all; it is fucking unbearable. “Oh and Venessa is done covering for your ass, too. No way Rogan will allow her near your shit. Nice teamwork, Kowalski.”

Venessa was right and she was wrong. Macy is
nothing
like Venessa. Venessa plays that shit straight. Macy, though? She’s worse than Venessa. Macy makes you think she’s sweet and shit. She ain’t sweet, she’s a goddamn liar. She hasn’t lost a minute of sleep over Briggs, and now I know why. To lose sleep, you’d need a fucking conscience.

Being done with all this bullshit, I grab my keys to roll out. I can’t even be in the same house with her right now. Opening the door, I don’t know what the fuck makes me do it, but I do.

“Don’t do this,” she begs me, “Jonas, Wait! Don’t leave, I can explain!”

My biggest mistake is turning back to look at her face. Because the look of confusion is there, it is written all over herm and it almost makes me stop, almost.

But I don’t, I keep right on going.

M
inutes have passed since he screamed in my face, accusing me of those men’s deaths. The look on his face was pure disgust because he thinks I’m capable of that. He thinks I’m capable of murder. I mean, depending on the situation, I think everyone is, but I don’t go around killing people for sport. I can’t say I’ve only killed one person and not sound insane, but it’s true. The asshole also had it coming, and taking Briggs out was justified.

He slammed the door on his way out and since then I’ve been sitting here wondering what just happened. Why did Venessa throw me under the bus like that? I’d never do that to her. Listen, I’ve killed one person, but she’s killed many. I would never throw that in her face because she was doing what she had to do, just like I did.

Marcus Mason was married to Suzanne Mason, who came in for stiches and broken ribs once again. Marcus was in banking. He flaunted his money and his women in front of his wife, so she left him. When he decided he wanted her back and she refused he would use force and then continue to do so as punishment for having to find her.

When she came in, she must have sensed I could relate, because she told me everything. The last time he hit her, he has four of his boys with him and the assholes held her down while he abused and threatened to kill her if she told anyone. She told me, and I promised I wouldn’t say anything if she ran. I begged her to run and to stay gone. Last time I spoke to her, she had, and was finding her way back to happy. So I did what any woman would do. I tracked them and dosed them good. Granted, I left them in alleys after, but the amount I gave them would have left them feeling like shit at best, and tossed by bangers at worst. But I didn’t kill anyone.

Sending Venessa a text, I keep it simple. That bus you threw me under? Pretty sure it had four-wheel drive and the driver was you. Hugs n disses!

Snapping myself out of it, I decide staring at the door isn’t doing me any favors, and neither will staying where I clearly am not wanted. If what he said about Venessa was true, which I suspect it is, then it’s best I make other arrangements. Packing a bag and my work I call a cab, and wanting out of the house, I wait on the porch for my ride. Sending Ben a quick message letting him know I’ll be there if he wants to study, I ignore the calls from Venessa and hope the cab shows up before Jonas or she does.

Walking into the lab I’m surprised Ben beat me to it, but he did, and oddly enough I am regretting texting him now. I can’t make up my mind to save my life today. Ben has been a friend of mine for a while now and I’ve treated him badly. Life would have been so much easier if I could have fallen for Ben, but I just couldn’t. He’s tall, well-built, sandy blond hair with blue eyes, and a killer smile. Women would go nuts for him, and why shouldn’t they? He’s smart, excels at everything, and he’s extremely sweet, too, but for whatever reason, I prefer my men to have anger issues and to think the worst of me.