Whiskey and Wry (Sinners, #2)

Shed blood no longer haunted Sionn’s dreams, tucked back away into the recesses of forgiveness. The aching plunge of the scar in his thigh was a reminder of him giving everything he could. Although he would always mourn having to kill a man, he’d found the acceptance of it, knowing he’d kept a family safe from being torn apart by the man’s bullets. Despite his avowal of being thick-tongued, Damien’s murmured wisdom struck him in the heart of his misery, and Sionn’d been grateful for the relief.

He’d pried as well. Damien’s anguishes were hidden deep, buried under layers of sarcasm and deflection, but in the warm, lightning-ripe darkness of their retreat, Sionn found the key to the chains binding Damien to his nightmares. Drawing the man out was difficult. Kissing away his tears and promising a forever was even harder, because Sionn was faced with a sea of suspicion and disbelief.

It was an ocean he swam through every night and day he spent with Damien. Every second, every kiss and every caress bringing him one stroke closer to the solitude Damien imprisoned himself in.

Miki was there. Sionn knew that and welcomed the mercurial singer. Encouraged by Damien’s guttersnipe of a best friend, he pushed on, and when he’d paused at the doorway, watching Damien spin out threads of sound, Sionn realized every achingly hard moment was worth it just to see a gentle, sweet smile from the man beneath him.

“You are worth everything, love.” Sionn delved into his lover’s heat, skimming as much lube as he could onto his rim. “I cannot wait to spend a forever with you.”

“Forever’s what you are taking here….”

He didn’t let the man finish. Damien’s impatience was expected, as was the surprised gasp when Sionn parted his cheeks, fitted the head of his cock into the dip of Damien’s body, and pushed in. Hooking Damie’s legs over his shoulders, Sionn rocked his hips slowly, trying to take his time.

“Swear to God, I’m going to kill you,” Damien ground out. He lifted his arms, wrapped his hands around Sionn’s neck, and pulled him down, forcing Sionn to roll his shoulders forward. “What part of fuck me now didn’t you get, Irish?”

Giving in, Sionn snapped his hips up, burying himself in Damien’s hot clench. Knotted up in his lover’s legs and arms, Sionn grasped Damien’s torso and shifted him until the man’s shoulders were up against the wall. Curved around Sionn’s cock, he was nearly bent over, holding on tightly as Sionn slammed into him, their bodies slipping in the sheen of their thickening sweat.

He’d known as soon as he breached Damien’s tight ass he wouldn’t last long. Damien’s sharp teeth found a bulge of muscle on his shoulder and latched on, digging until Sionn felt his skin give, cut raw by Damien’s bite. The sharpness of the pain drove him on, his cock catching on the man’s constricting rim before sliding along the oiled channel beyond.

There was no warning. No trembling of Damien’s muscles around Sionn’s thrusting shaft. One moment his lover was moaning and pleading for more, the next, a splatter of hot seed erupted between them, coating their bellies with Damien’s salty release. Sionn quickened his strokes, finding the spongy crest of Damien’s center rumpled under his shaft, and he angled in, punching into the spot over and over as he milked the final drops of Damien’s release from his spurting dick.

His entire body tingled, the skin along his back and arms prickling with the power building up in his balls. The sac between his legs roiled, curling up and tucking into the hot space under his cock, his thighs pressing his hollow in. Damien’s teeth were gone, and he welcomed the come-tinged air hitting his lungs. It was a scent he’d grown to love, a milky spice of his own sweat and Damien’s spill playing through a rain-heavy fog.

Sionn’s orgasm struck, leaving his body in a rush of salt and desire. Burying his face in the curve of Damien’s neck, he filled his lover to the brim, his shoulders jerking uncontrollably with each jolt of his cock. Veiled by Damien’s black hair, Sionn floated on the rippling aftermath of their sex, Damien’s ass still clenched tightly around him, and they both sighed, their mouths touching long enough for their breath to mingle.

“Christ, you’re going to kill me, Damie love,” Sionn murmured, trying to catch his breath. He tried to roll off of his lover’s belly, but Damien held him still despite Sionn’s softening cock slipping free of the other man’s body. “We’re going to be a fecking mess if I—”

“Stay.” It was a single word, but flushed with deep affection. “I love you lying on me. Hell, I just love you, so please… don’t go, Sionn. Just… stay.”

“It would be a pleasure to stay, a rún,” he whispered, kissing Damien gently. He heard what Damien was saying, the blossoming tangle between them peeking out from Damien’s plea. Caught between the spaces of his words, Damien spoke of a future between them, his stitched-together heart pounding hard enough for Sionn to feel it against his ribs. “A simple bloody pleasure.”





Chapter 18




There’s a door in the back

At the back of this bar

Death waits there

Even leaves it ajar

Don’t wander there, boy

Don’t dance too close, son

Else the Devil’ll come take you

’Fore the night’s even done

—Devil’s Waiting