Noah’s toes curled, every nerve ending sparking with pleasure as Adam lazily used him, fucking into him by rolling his hips, barely moving but somehow so deep inside.
Noah turned his head to the side, another breathy moan escaping before he said, “Okay, true. But I didn’t mean you could drag me into a bedroom every time I did something you didn’t like.”
Adam bit down on the shell of his ear, hands sliding under Noah’s chest to curl over his shoulders, holding him in place so he could go even deeper. “Then you should have been more specific. Too late to stop now.”
Noah didn’t want him to stop. In fact, he rather liked Adam’s cave man problem solving skills, even if his solution was usually to drag Noah into the nearest empty space and fuck him senseless.
There was just something about being—how did Adam put it?—completely at his mercy. To know that hands that killed without an ounce of regret were the ones now holding him in a vise grip so he could fuck him harder. That a body crafted to make his kills more efficient was contracting over him, driving deep into him, wanting to leave as many marks as he could to show the world Noah was his.
The duality of their lives would never stop being strange to Noah. One minute, they were at a black-tie dinner, where people still whispered about the fire and the scandal that had erupted soon after. The next, Adam was packing his kill kit while Noah walked him through his target’s dossier. Adam was right. Nothing ever blew back on them. Calliope kept on top of the case, listening to police chatter. The cops were still clueless as to who had murdered twenty pedophiles, but it was clear they thought the trash had taken itself out.
Being a Mulvaney made Adam Teflon. And Noah belonged to Adam. That knowledge was a heady thing. Being untouchable. It made Noah reckless. Fuck. It made him dangerous. Far more dangerous than Thomas’s mercenary training ever would. Because Adam would do anything to protect Noah. Anything. He was like a vicious junkyard dog, and Noah held his leash.
Except in the bedroom. Never in there. In bed, Noah got to let it all go, let Adam make the decisions, let him do whatever he wanted. And, right then, he clearly just wanted to use Noah for his own pleasure. And he did. He rolled his hips, his movements getting faster, harder. His breathing harsh and panting against Noah’s ears as he muttered, “Fuck, you feel so good.”
Noah closed his eyes, enjoying the friction of the sheets against his dick and the fullness of Adam inside him, knowing he’d get his as soon as Adam finished. A few more thrusts and Adam’s forehead dropped to Noah’s shoulder, body twitching as he came with a harsh sound.
After a few minutes passed, Adam slipped free of Noah, freeing his ankles from the restraints. But only his ankles. He sucked in a breath as Adam tugged his hips into the air. “Open your legs for me.”
Noah did what Adam asked, a low moan slipping from his lips as Adam’s hand wrapped around Noah’s aching erection. There was no teasing now. Adam jerked Noah with long, efficient strokes until sparks were flashing behind his lids. “Oh, fuck, I’m so close already. Don’t stop. Please.”
“You’re way too coherent,” Adam muttered, working three fingers back into his slick hole, finding that tiny bundle of nerves just inside and massaging over it.
Noah’s blood was made of fire, his whole body covered in perspiration. “Oh, my God. Yes. Keep—oh, fuck—keep doing that. Please, Adam. Fuck. Yes. Yes.”
And then he was coming hard, the kind of orgasm that made his vision go black and his soul temporarily leave his body. By the time he could put a coherent thought together, Adam had released him from the restraints and rolled him onto his back to hover over him on all fours.
“What are you doing?” Noah asked, amused.
Adam grinned. “Making sure I didn’t fuck you into a coma. You looked a little…out of it.”
Noah rolled his eyes. “You do this to me every time I leave. When I went to meet my mom, I could barely sit for three days. Do you know how awkward it was having the woman who gave birth to me ask why I was wincing every time I sat down?”
Adam chuckled. “If I recall, it was you who wanted to be spanked before you left. You told me to make it hurt. Your words, not mine.”
“I cannot be held responsible for what I say when there is a sex toy vibrating against my prostate,” Noah said, sounding huffy.
Meeting his birth mom had gone alright. It wasn’t the teary, heartfelt reunion they often showed on the news. She didn’t throw her arms around Noah and sob at the return of her long, lost son. And that was okay. He probably wouldn’t have known what to do with that kind of attention anyway.
Noah was an adult, and she was a stranger with a new family and a new life. It wasn’t awkward or unpleasant. Everybody had been gracious and welcoming. Noah had met his mother’s new husband—a cattle rancher named Chad—and their three teenagers, Andreina, Marcella, and…Loretta. After Chad’s dead mom.
They hadn’t spoken of anything of substance, really, even though they both probably had a million questions for each other. But Noah wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answers to his questions, wasn’t sure he’d look at her the same way if he didn’t like the answers. And he didn’t want to ruin her life by telling her what he’d been through. She didn’t deserve to live with that knowledge. None of it was her fault.
They’d parted at the airport with hugs and a promise to talk again soon. And they did. She would call him once a month or so to check in. Would hesitantly ask about Adam. Would give him updates about Chad, the girls, the ranch, and it was nice. Easy. Someday, maybe she would even feel like his mom. But not yet.
Noah had gone into it with no false expectations. He already had a family. One that he didn’t have to keep secrets from. Adam’s family. His completely insane fucked up family. They knew all his secrets. And he knew theirs.
“Hey, where’d you go?” Adam asked, tapping on his forehead.