All Kinds of Tied Down (Marshals 1)

No.

No stopping.

“You have to jerk yourself off,” I ordered as I sucked and licked and kissed his jaw, throat, and down the side of his neck to his shoulder. He tasted like salt and sweat and smelled like him, like Ian, and I wanted all of him on my tongue.

“I don’t—you have me.”

“Yes,” I croaked, moving my mouth, needing to reach his back, taste there, lick there. “I have you, I won’t let go.”

The words were necessary and I understood that.

I eased back, put Ian on his hands, took hold of his hips, and then hammered back inside.

He yelled my name.

I did it over and over, wanting to be deeper, the need desperate, to be entrenched in him, to make it so he could never forget that I’d had him, even if he tried.

Licking up his spine, I felt his muscles clenching around my shaft, tightening fast, holding me. I reached under him and grabbed his cock roughly, tugging and squeezing, and when I felt the first stream on my fingers, I let go.

“I can’t hold… Miro!”

“Just come,” I demanded thickly.

He gasped with his release, as I fucked him through his orgasm, loving the feel of his silken inner walls milking my length. He shivered as I came, pulsing within his body, semen filling his spasming channel.

“It’s warm,” he said as I collapsed over his back.

His breathing was ragged, and I thought maybe I should move, but my climax had taken everything and I needed a second to reroute blood flow.

“Don’t move, okay?” Ian murmured.

He didn’t have to ask twice.

Chapter 13

I WAS careful when I slid free, moving cautiously and then shifting him sideways so he wouldn’t drop into his own cum pooled on the sheets. I rolled off the bed, went to the bathroom, and found a washcloth and towel. I cleaned myself off, and then made sure the cloth was the perfect balance of not-too-wet and not-too-wrung-out, and moved quickly back to where Ian lay collapsed.

Gently, I parted his cheeks and wiped him up, kissed the small of his back before I returned to the bathroom and hung both towels up. When I walked out, I was caught in his deep cobalt eyes and stopped where I was.

He didn’t say anything, his gaze simply moved over me, up and down and back, then locked with mine.

I cleared my throat. “Did I hurt you?”

Slight shake of his head.

“Okay.”

His eyes were so dark at the moment. I had never noticed his thick and long lashes before. The flush all over him was beautiful, but even more so were the marks I had put on him standing out starkly against his olive skin.

“Can I come over there?” I asked.

“Please.”

I hurried but diverted at the last moment to get to the thermostat. I cranked the heat up to 72 and then dived onto the bed. He turned his head to look up at me, and when he did, I saw the wicked, easy smile. It was enough.

Dumping him on his back, I sank over him, taking his mouth in a long, slow deep kiss, tasting him all over again, not letting him go until I felt his cock thicken between us.

“Damn, Doyle, your recovery time is amazing.”

“Not usually,” he murmured as I slid an arm down between us, taking hold of him, smearing the leaking precum over his crown.

“You want to put this inside of me?”

He squinted. “Is that what you want? Because you keep asking.”

I never second-guessed him. It was not something that occurred in our relationship. I never checked once he said something, but here, I was doing just that. My questions were killing him, instilling doubt, and I had to remember how he was out of bed and not mess up. Normally, I asked once. I got a yes or no and never revisited whatever topic had been discussed. I needed to treat this situation just the same, as we lay there skin to skin.

“If you want something, you tell me.”

“I always do.”

“Okay.”

“And you? What do you want?”

“I wanna be back inside you, but I think I need to slow down. How ’bout we talk some?”

He nodded, rolling sideways, propping himself up on his elbow, looking at me.

“I went to one of those clubs, you know.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You know,” he said pointedly.

I scooted closer, and he put a hand on my hip. “No, I really don’t.”

“A sex club.”

“What?”

“A BDSM club, to be exact.”

Shock tore through me, but I swallowed it down to keep it out of my voice. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

Maneuvering closer, he took hold of my thigh and lifted it over his hip so that my hardening shaft slid along his. Having the sudden urge to hold him, I didn’t second-guess it and took him into my arms, tucked his face into the crook of my neck, and hugged him tight. His mouth opened against my throat; I was not proud of the mewling noise I made.