The Resurrection (Unlawful Men)

I take the stairs and wander through the mansion, and the pressure builds and builds in my head, questions running in circles. I have no answers. I don’t even feel close. Spittle is dead, his son is missing, and we don’t know who the fuck The Bear is. One thing is clear, though. The Bear succeeded in intercepting the safety deposit box before anyone else, which means James’s suspicions were correct. Beau’s mum really did figure it out. Forgive me, but it’s a massive fucking ego crusher knowing that a law-abiding FBI agent unraveled the mystery, and we’re nowhere near fucking close. I growl to myself, my concern for our situation growing by the hour. No one is talking. No one is dealing with us. Everyone in Miami appears to be under his control. Everyone except us.

And that’s a problem for him.

I let us into our suite and go straight to the bathroom, lowering Rose to the vanity and flipping on the shower. I put some music on, strip down, cast my filthy gym clothes aside, and move into her, taking the hem of her jumper. “Arms up,” I order, lifting it over her head and throwing it on top of the pile of laundry.

“Tell me what happened,” she says quietly, as I reach behind her and unhook her bra.

“No.” I drag the lace down her arms and drop it to the floor, moving to her jeans. “I don’t want to talk, Rose. Lift.”

She pushes her hands onto the counter and raises her arse. “So I’m just here as a form of relaxation for you, am I?”

I discard her jeans, then her knickers, and take her ponytail in my fist. Hard. And because Rose is Rose, she pulls against my hold, showing me that the woman I fell in love with is still here. “No, you’re here as a form of purpose.” I loosen my hold and tighten it again, my eyes fixed on hers. Her palms splay on my pecs and stroke down my torso, through the dust and grime sticking to my clammy, post-workout skin. She reaches my groin, intent swirling in her dark blue eyes. I let my heavy head drop, my forehead meeting her shoulder, a strangled groan saturating the bathroom when she curls her hand around my cock. “Stroke,” I order, biting down on my lip, the veins in my dick throbbing. “Stoke me slowly.” My hand tightens in her hair, my spare finding the counter, anchoring me. “Slowly,” I whisper, every muscle hardening as she glides up and down my length lazily. My hips begin to circle, my mouth drying from my heavy pants. “Easy,” I murmur, turning my face into her neck and latching on, sucking and biting at her flesh. “Make me come, Rose.”

“Soon.” Her hand drops, and I growl, yanking at her hair.

“Now.”

She jars her head, hissing with pain. “Soon.” Her palms push into my chest with force, and I stagger back, dazed.

“Now,” I grate, blinking my vision clear. “Do it now, Rose.” My throat is suddenly in her hand, her small frame walking me back into the shower. My back hits the tile. Her front meets mine. The steam and water drench us. She squeezes my throat, and I swallow, searching her wild eyes. “What are you doing?”

She drops to her knees, looking up at me, her tongue running across her lips. Then I’m in her mouth—so fucking deep—and I bark at the ceiling, my fists balling.

I suck air through my teeth, my knees immediately wobbling. Her fingers find my arse and claw, digging in harshly. “Fuck!” She slides back, circles, kisses, and yanks me back into her mouth. “Jesus!” My hands go to her head and hold on for dear life, my hips thrusting to meet her manic pace. The tip of my cock hits the back of her throat repeatedly, her teeth grazing my shaft, the friction dizzying. I mumble her name over and over, feeling utterly blindsided by her mercilessness, my body locking up in preparation. Completely dazed, I drop my head and my eyes. She’s watching me, her head bobbing, her hold of my tense arse brutal. Blood surges. Nerves sizzle. “I’m going to come.” My words are strained.

She pulls away. “Soon,” she rasps, rising and pushing her face into my cheek, biting the area of my scar. I exhale. It’s shaky and strained, my dick twitching against her stomach.

“Rose.” Her name on my lips is a warning.

“Danny,” she whispers, taking my shoulders and pushing into them. “Down.” And because I’m a fucking slave to this woman, I go down, kissing my way across her taut, wet stomach, through her strip of hair, and into the white-hot heat of her pussy. “Oh, yes”

I lick, suck, kiss, bite, slipping my fingers inside and fucking her as my tongue caresses her. I look up through the water raining down on us. Her head hangs limply, her palms braced against the wall. I place a hand on her arse and squeeze hard.