Better When He's Brave

I got his zipper the rest of the way down, excited about my victory for more than one reason. He wasn’t giving in to me for good, but he was giving in to me for now and that was good enough. I laughed a little as I pulled his pulsating cock out of the confines of his underwear. He was impressive everywhere. I wasn’t surprised. He was the best of the best, so of course his dick would have to fall in that category as well. He jerked in my hand as I rubbed my thumb on the tip where the evidence that despite any reluctance his mind might have, his body and the wild inside of him was loose, leaking out and calling to me.

He grunted in response as I dropped to my knees in front of him. It wasn’t my favorite position to be in for any man, it smacked of weakness and submission, but here it felt like power, like taking what was mine. I didn’t care about the appropriateness of the time or the location. All of that faded next to the way he burned in my mouth as I sucked him in and played with him. His eyes had drifted to half-mast and all I could see as he watched me was a storm of swirling silver. He was still fighting, he refused to move with me, refused to touch me . . . at least he did until the beast woke back up as I twirled my tongue around and around the aching tip. I was just adding my hands to the mix, curling a tight fist around the base of his erection, when suddenly his hands where in my hair and he was moving into me.

“You’re fucking dangerous.” His voice was hoarse as he slowly started to give me what I wanted. I hummed in agreement and used my other hand to hold on to the impossibly tight globe of his ass. “Why can’t I resist you?”

He sounded angry, but he didn’t stop moving and I had to really concentrate on what I was doing because once again he wasn’t soft or easy and that was a whole lot of man to try and handle. God, did I want to handle him in a million different ways. I squeezed my hand even tighter and tilted my head back just a little when he guided me with rough hands.

His eyes were open all the way now and they were trying to melt me onto the bathroom floor with their intensity. I saw his broad chest start to rise and fall more rapidly. I felt the way his cock quivered all along my tongue as I hollowed my cheeks and sucked him down as far as I could stand. I felt the muscle I was holding on to flex so hard it felt like stone under my touch and then he swore at me again and it was all over in a hot rush of desire and some more bad words.

We were both breathing heavily as I rocked back and then climbed to my feet. We watched each other like combatants instead of almost-lovers, and I turned around without a word to clean the blood off my face and to get dressed. Caring about this man was hazardous, and if Conner didn’t end up pulling the trigger first, the feelings I had for Titus might very well be the end of me.

I pushed my hair back after I got myself situated and looked at him in the mirror, where I could see him watching me as he zipped up his pants.

“I don’t know, Titus, but if you can’t resist me, maybe you should stop trying so hard. In this place you never know what pile of shit tomorrow is going to hand you, so having something that makes you feel good for even a second needs to be valued.”

He shoved his hands through his hair and then reached down by his hip to twist the door open. There was no hiding what we had been in here doing. It was all over him. I was all over him and he was most definitely stamped all over me. I loved it.

“You shouldn’t be what makes me feel good, Reeve.” There it was. The harsh reality of the way things were between us. Him on one side of the divide and me always on the other.

“But I do, and you’re just going to have to learn how to deal with that.” I swept past him back out into the strip club, hoping he wouldn’t see the way my knees wobbled. I flipped my hair and shoved my hands in my pockets assuming he would guide us to the door. We had definitely made an impression tonight, and if Conner had eyes in the club, there was no missing the way we had just come out of the same bathroom all rumpled and sexed up. Mission accomplished, even if my heart and my ego had taken an equal pounding with Titus’s last harsh words.

I was surprised and a little annoyed when he stopped in front of one of the stages where Nassir was standing with Chuck. I saw both men give me a once-over then smirk at the dark-haired cop. The lights suddenly went down and an old, bluesy jazz song started to blast through the sound system. I shifted my gaze to the stage as a burning-white spotlight suddenly hit it and a girl dressed in a way-sexified, old-timey gangster outfit strutted her stuff onto the stage. She had the fedora. She had the suspenders. She had a gun stuck in her garter belt. She even had a lit cigar clamped between her teeth as she sashayed around the stage in platform Mary Janes. I tried not to bristle as all three of the men stopped what they were talking about to watch her as her white button-up blouse hit the floor, quickly followed by her tiny black skirt. She had a great body and she was really working the crowd, but even with the blinding stage lights it looked like she was staring right at where Titus was standing.

I huffed out a breath and turned my head as a body moved up next to mine. Key had gotten dressed and she was now sporting a puffy eye but she still looked better than anyone had the right to. She grinned at me as I glared at her. “You hit like a girl.”

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