Promises 2 (29 page)

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Quick was jerking every time Cayson eased in another inch, grunting and moaning in what sounded like ecstasy. It wasn’t until he was buried all the way that he released a lungful of air.

Quick gulped in air too, exhaling roughly. Cayson tried to lean up far enough to see Quick’s face. He turned to look at him, allowing him to see into the erotic green eyes of the most gorgeous man he’d ever met, and he knew at that moment, he’d fallen in love. He was glad his brain still had enough blood in it to tell his heart it was too cliché to say, “I love you,” while he was balls deep inside a man for the first time, but he was going to say it, and soon.

“You okay?” he asked instead. Struggling to stay in control, and not start pumping without letting up until he overflowed the condom.

“Yeah. Slow. Go slow.”

Cayson moved Quick’s long hair off his face, pulling him to his mouth while he eased out a couple inches and just as slowly eased back in.

Quick moaned and Cayson swallowed it down. “Just like that.”

“Baby, you’re so damn tight.”

“You’re longer than I thought.”

Cayson grinned. That was a damn good compliment. Rocking his hips, Cayson got into an easy groove. He didn’t have the urge to go crazy with reckless abandon anymore, instead, he had the overwhelming sensation to keep the loving slow and sacred.

“Damn. Deeper.”

Cayson wrapped his body around Quick’s so he could comply. He pushed in until he was able to grind against that hairy ass. The electricity was instant and powerful. He couldn’t resist pulling out almost to the tip, then gliding every inch back in, dragging his entire length against Quick’s narrow channel, only to grind against him again.

“Ohhhhhh. Fuuuuuck you.” Quick hunched his back, gripping at the edge of the mattress.

Cayson chuckled. Damn, his bad boy had a way with expressing himself. He had to let go, he needed to come. But he wanted Quick to lose it first.
Please, god, give me a little more strength.
He reared back, pushing his pelvis harder against Quick’s ass, as deep as he could, and kept using slow, shallow thrusts. He saw Quick’s arm moving frantically in front of him. He was already jacking himself. Cayson knew exactly what that craving felt like. He stroked everywhere his hands could reach. Massaging Quick’s shoulders, his strong back, massaging those furry cheeks, using his fingers to touch and rub around their connection. Everywhere.

“Love your hands on me. You got me so fuckin’ hard, Cays.” Quick’s breath was coming fast, his orgasm on the edge of peaking. “Oh, fuck.”

Cayson upped the pace. Still not pistoning his hips, but driving in fast enough to tip them over the precipice now. “Yes, fuck me. Make me yours.”

Cayson was just cognizant enough to decipher what Quick was mindlessly murmuring while Cayson drove his long cock in and out of his virgin hole. “Mine,” Cayson whispered to himself, getting lost in the rhythm, lost in the pleasure. His toes curled tight enough to cramp, and his back went rigid before his cock hardened ramrod straight.

“I can’t hold it,” Cayson groaned. Thrusting a few more times. “You feel too good.”

“Fuck, yeah. That’s your fuckin’ hole,” Quick answered, his fist still flying up and down his own thick cock.

That did it. Quick couldn’t talk like that. He couldn’t tell Cayson his body was his. What was he going to do with all of this man? Could he keep him happy? Could he satisfy his needs? Hell, he could barely penetrate him for two minutes without blowing.

“Ugh! Ugh!” Quick’s hand stilled while he squeezed the head of his hard dick until his come erupted from him, landing on the sheets in a milky puddle.

Thank you, lord.
Cayson tumbled right along with him. He was completely on autopilot. He rubbed along Quick’s back while he rode out his powerful release. He nestled his cock into that hot bottomless chamber and let himself go, let his come flow, overpowering him with a mixture of amazing euphoria and unyielding love. His body was wrapped tightly around Quick’s frame while his dick throbbed inside his lover. Speechless. There were no words. Only their laboring breaths and sweet touches conveyed how they felt as they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

Quick

It had to be the most relaxing sleep Quick had experienced in a long time. Life was absolutely perfect at that moment. The world completely silent and out of his face. Suddenly, the sound of a piercing alarm made him shoot upright in the bed, knocking Cayson off of him. His lover flailed his arms, scrambling at the covers tangled around their legs while he came fully awake. Quick didn’t have time to settle him. The alarm on one of their watches was ringing angrily, louder than any smoke alarm he’d ever heard.

Goddamnit. They’d been so lost in each other’s bodies they’d both forgotten to put their watches back on. Quick ran into the bathroom, skidding to a stop in front of the counter. He squinted, his sleepy eyes adjusting to the shock of being yanked awake and the assault from the bright light of his bathroom.

He silenced the alarm and waited a minute while it calculated who activated it and where they were located. Quick had the watch in his hand while he yanked on a pair of jeans and an Atlanta Falcons t-shirt. He was at his locked safe on the floor of his closet pulling out his black 9mm handguns when Cayson’s frightened voice cut through his determination to get to one of his brothers in need of his help.

“Roman. What’s going on?” Cayson asked, standing in the middle of Quick’s bedroom, looking unsure.

“Just wait here, okay.” Quick looked back down at the face of the watch. “It’s Brian. Fuck! He’s at the office.”

It wasn’t even four in the morning. What the hell was going on? Quick’s brain screamed. Quick’s cell phone rang on the nightstand and he hurried to pick it up. It was Duke. Cayson was watching his every move and Quick wanted to take the time to offer him some comforting words, but he couldn’t.

Quick hit the button and Duke’s voice blasted through his speaker.

“My alarm rang. Did yours?” Duke sounded like he was moving around just as frantically as Quick was.

“Yes. It’s Brian. He’s on bond duty. Did he get a call?” Quick asked, tucking his guns behind his back. He raced downstairs with his cell and watch in his hands, Cayson hot on his heels. Duke was still firing off orders while Quick grabbed his leather coat out of his closet.

“Get to the office now, Rome! Get there before Ford! If something’s happening with Brian, Ford’s gonna kill first, then ask what happened.”

“I know. I know.”

“I’ll see you there. No one approach without my order.”

He hit the speaker button and had his hand on the front door without a second thought. If someone had fucked with Brian, Quick and Duke would be down a team member, because Ford would be in jail for first-degree murder if he got there before they did. Quick had to get there first. Brian had activated the team’s alarm. Cayson’s didn’t ring.

“Rome. Maybe I should come with you. What if you need medical help?”

Quick stopped on his porch and turned to Cayson. He wanted to pull him into his arms. The dark morning was cold and unforgiving, and his doctor only had on a pair of shorts he’d scooped up off the floor. “You can’t. Too dangerous. If I need you, I’ll call you.”

No kiss, no hug, no nothing. Rome turned to dash down the two steps.

“Rome.” Cayson rushed to get his attention before he was gone.

“Yeah?” he called over his shoulder, unlocking his truck.

“Please be careful.”

Fuck. This was a pretty big reality check for Cayson. Quick didn’t have time to say the right thing to take that worried look off his angelic face. He wondered what Duke was saying to Vaughan right now. Was his son used to this life already? Used to the life of a bounty hunter? Would Cayson be able to handle it? Maybe it was best they found out now, before Quick handed over his heart. Too late. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that Cayson would be gone when he got back, but he still had to go. Had to force himself to nod at his lover and get inside the cab. He and Ford were about the same distance away from the office. Duke had a slightly longer drive. Looking at his watch, he knew it usually took ten minutes to get to their building, but he was getting ready to break every traffic law in Atlanta. He had to get there ahead of Ford.

Brian

Motherfucker. Brian clenched his teeth when he was backhanded across his face. He’d been dragged across the floor after being stomped repeatedly by steel toe boots. They tried to get him up into one of the chairs, but he dropped his entire two hundred and forty pounds of muscle like dead weight. No matter how they strained, the three of them couldn’t lift him. He acted like he was dazed from the blows, but he was very much alert. He’d managed to hold the alarm button on his watch while he was being kicked. Now he was propped against one of the steel columns in their lobby area with his hands duct taped behind his back. Four minutes and thirty-five seconds. Brian kept counting in his head. His brother would be there in about another four to five minutes. He said a little prayer for the souls of these men. They’d need it. They were about to meet their maker.

“Tell us your name! Tell us your goddamn name!”

Brian didn’t speak. He never spoke, but these bastards didn’t know that. They thought Brian was just being stubborn. He let his head dangle lazily. One of the three thugs who’d burst through their office door the moment he got back from posting a bond turned a chair around in front of him and lowered himself into it. Brian didn’t look up, but he knew exactly how far the man was away from him.

Brian was Special Ops; military trained and used to watching his surroundings, so he’d made sure the parking lot was empty when he got out of his classic Mustang. He’d just got the key inside the door to their office when he heard hurried footsteps approaching, and a blunt object slammed across his back. He hadn’t had the chance to counter when another blow landed hard across his temple, knocking him sideways, stunning him.

“Is that him?” One of the men asked, out of breath.

“Gotta be. He’s huge.”

“Make sure.”

“The other owner isn’t as tall. This has to be him.”

Who are they looking for? No sooner than Brian thought it, he realized this had something to do with Quick. This was personal. These men didn’t even know what Quick looked like, that meant they were sent as a favor. Sent by someone who had money.

“Roman… Quick. Whatever the hell your name is.”

“Is that you?” One of the other men was smart enough to have a hoodie over his head and a black ski mask concealing his identity. He appeared to be the lookout man, because he fidgeted nervously as he stared out the window. “Just say your name and we’ll leave.”

Brian wanted to roll his eyes. These guys were idiots. If they were after Rome, then they should’ve at least known what he looked like. And it was obvious they didn’t scope out the area, otherwise they’d know everyone who worked there, and they’d target the right man. For fuck’s sake, his photo was on the company website. Now they were all going to either be seriously injured or die because of their amateur methods.

“Dude, call your nephew again and ask him what the guy looks like. Tell him we got him. He’s freakishly tall, tattoos, and built as shit. This has to be him.” The man who posed like he was in charge had an older model six shot revolver pointed dead center at Brian’s chest.

The third one pulled out a cell phone and started dialing. Brian could hear the phone ringing, could hear a male voice pick up, barking angrily through the connection. He kept his count in the back of his head and tried to listen intently to the caller. Concentrating on his tone, accent, words or repeated phrases. The more intel he could gather the better.

“I know you said not to call you, but I wanted to be sure we had the right guy.”

There was more angry shouting across the line, and the third guy began looking more and more frightened. “Shit. Oh, my god. I think… Wait a minute. I don’t… I don’t—”

Brian tried to keep his thoughts clear. Any minute they were going to figure out that he wasn’t Quick. They’d tied his hands but not his feet, and they thought he was still dazed. If the guy with the gun came any closer, Brian could spring up and kick it out of his hand. He’d have a spit second to grab him while he was shocked, and have him between his thighs, choking the life out of him before the others could react. Hopefully, the others didn’t have weapons, but if they did, he’d fight until one of them shot him.
Stay in fight mode. Stay in fight mode.
He couldn’t let his mind go back to that cave. Not back to the hell he’d lived in for ten months. Couldn’t let the fear claim any other parts of him, it’d already taken his voice.