All Kinds of Tied Down (Marshals 1)

“God, Miro, I’m so full.”

“It’s different with this angle,” I said, hands on his thighs, holding him tight as I slid out and then pistoned up into him.

His mouth fell open and there was no sound, only him obviously feeling, panting, the sensations overwhelming as I did it again and again, not stopping, wanting only to be inside him. I was lost in the action—nothing else mattered.

“Miro!”

He spurted over my chest and abdomen, and I pulled him down, impaling him on my cock as I came deep inside his body seconds later.

I checked out for long minutes, the white that exploded behind my eyes not easy to simply climb out of. Like always, though, once I became aware of where I was, I felt the weight of his stare. The deep, dark blue was really something to see.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said as I realized that unless he moved, I couldn’t.

“I need to clean you up.”

“Let’s take a shower, change, and go get our witness.”

“No nap?” I whined without meaning to.

“No nap,” he said, curling over me. “But I’ll feed ya.” Again he lifted my arms above my head, this time each wrist pinned to the mattress as he hovered close. “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I said, unable to control my grin.

“We’re gonna have to talk at some point.”

“About?” I asked, almost gasping as the muscles in his ass flexed, sending a twinge of pain along my oversensitized nerve endings. Softening inside of him sounded hot, but it was actually uncomfortable.

“This, obviously.”

I stared up at him and noticed his red, swollen lips, hooded eyes, and the marks all over him. No way to miss that he’d been ravaged. “Like what?”

“Like,” he replied, tightening his hands on my wrists, his thighs around my hips. “Will we do this when we get home?”

He posed the question, at the same time testing if I’d let him hold me down. In answer, I yanked my right arm out of his grip, and before he could grab me again, I dropped my left foot onto the floor and kicked off, giving me enough momentum and leverage to roll him to his back and pin him beneath me. The entire maneuver was fast, jarring, and most of all, forceful. I didn’t miss his sharp inhale.

“I want to,” I answered before dropping down beside him and drawing him to me, sliding his leg over my hip so we were plastered together, joined everywhere. “But we don’t need to say it right this second.”

“I think we do.”

Oh. “Do you? Want to?”

“Where would we be?” he casually asked instead of answering, even though his eyes betrayed him, flickering with concern, searching mine.

I knew him, his tells. He was waiting for any hesitation from me. I barreled forward instead. “You could hang with me at my place whenever you want, and bring Chickie. You already have a key.”

“Yeah,” he agreed thoughtfully.

“And I could sleep over at your place once I get my hazmat suit back from the dry cleaner.”

His brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I grinned slowly. I had successfully restored normalcy and balance.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Janet and Catherine went over there to check your mail, and Cat said she wasn’t going back without making sure her shots were up to date.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Janet said that if I’d let her take my gun, she’d go back.”

“Knock it off.” He chuckled, letting his head fall back when I bumped his chin with my nose. Ian was more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, vulnerable as he lay in my arms.

I pressed a kiss to his throat.

“You’d stay there, right?”

I would sleep wherever he liked for as long as he let me. “Yeah.” I just wanted to be in his bed.

He traced over the two newest scars on my body. “Don’t do this again.”

“I’ll try.”

“Try harder.”

“Yessir.”

WE STOPPED for a late lunch at a pancake place, badges out and strapped for the duration of the trip. I ate like it was my last meal. I was so hungry and between the coffee, orange juice, and water, the waitress wasn’t sure what other liquid I could possibly need.

Ian had coffee and water and watched me hoover up pancakes and sausage, eggs, hash browns, and grits as he wolfed down steak and eggs. I paid like I always did on Fridays, as we had every day of the week accounted for and it was the only way for meals to not devolve into arguments. It used to be both of us trying to treat the other, which got old fast. Our system worked better.

After hitting the bathroom, I met Ian in the lobby, and as I yawned, shoving my coat at him while I put on my hat, two state troopers stepped in front of us. A third was hanging back.

“Help you?” Ian asked.

The trooper tipped his head at the gun holstered on my belt.