“Shut up. I mean it.” He tightened his grip on her to the point of pain and stayed there. “Not a word to anyone that you did anything with a priest. Do you understand me?”
Blaise looked up at him in fear—real fear.
“Fuck, fine. I won’t tell anyone.”
“You’ve never seen me this serious before, have you?”
Blaise shook her head. “No.”
“There’s a reason for that. You will tell no one.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “I swear.”
Kingsley held her down another few seconds, long enough to make her nervous and long enough to get him aroused.
“Good girl.” He bent his head and kissed her before letting her go.
He rolled on to his back again, crossed his legs at his ankles again, watched the light dance again.
Blaise sat up and looked down at him.
“You scared the shit out of me.” She put her hand over her heart.
“Good.”
“For someone who says he doesn’t like S?ren, you’re awfully protective of him.”
“Love him or hate, he’s one of us. We take care of our own.”
“I can’t get him in trouble, you know. I only know his f irst name.”
“Actually, you don’t.” Kingsley laughed to himself. S?ren had introduced himself as “S?ren” to Blaise, not Marcus Stearns. There was no “S?ren” on anyone’s records anywhere. If she tried to find a Catholic priest in the United States named S?ren, she’d be searching forever. So that’s why S?ren told her his real name? That fucking brilliant blond monster. Now it all made sense.
“He told me his name, remember?” She rolled her eyes. “Jesus, how much have you had to drink?”
“Enough to put me in the mood, but not enough to ruin it. Now I’m going to get very drunk so you should go unless you want to make yourself useful.”
“Maybe I want to make myself useful,” she said, lifting up his shirt. She pressed her lips into his stomach, and the soft curling tips of her hair tickled his skin. Yes. This. Right now he needed this. Distraction. Desire. Anything to keep from remembering. “I like it when you scare me like that.”
“And that,” he said, caressing her cheek, “is why you are my chouchou.”
She kissed lower, deeper, and with one hand she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He wasn’t hard yet, but if she kept doing what she was doing, he would be any second now. She took him in her hand and massaged him lightly. When he stiffened, she bent her head and licked the tip. For a few minutes it was all she did, kissing, licking, teasing, focusing all her attention on that one part of him. Blood rushed through him, and he grew hard in her hand. He sighed softly as she stroked him before bringing her mouth down on to him.
Perfect… Her mouth was so wet and warm. She rubbed him with her talented tongue and sucked hard. The pressure built in him, and he lifted his hips into her mouth, small undulations that set every nerve inside him alight. He wove his fingers into her hair, seeking connection with the woman who did this erotic kindness to him.
She paused and used her hand on him, rubbing the shaft from base to tip, squeezing and stoking him to greater pleasure.
“I love your cock,” she whispered before lapping at the wet tip. “I love how big it is. I love how it tastes.”
“You’re too kind. Keep it up, chouchou, and I’ll give you the honor of swallowing.”