Bought (Unchained Vice Book 3) (17 page)

Jerricho had to reach up with his left, his right hand felt stiff and swollen from the stomping. In fact, he was starting to feel his whole body ache as the adrenalin rush started to recede. He grasped Killian’s wrist and started to pull himself up.

“I let you close to my wife and you bring this filth into our lives? Put her in danger?” Cold, restrained anger as Killian tightened the steel of his grip.

And then a ball of fire ripped through him as Killian slugged him in the stomach.

Winded, he started to fall.

“You fucking prick.”

The upper cut to his jaw made the ache in his head spike deep into his brain.

He was back to drowning. The effects of the concussion flooding back to pull him under.

“Why won’t you talk to me? You want to send him away again, don’t you?”

Scarlet sounded distressed and Jerricho wanted to wake, to move, to do something to calm her, but it was just too warm and comfortable in the fog surrounding him to do any of those things.

“I just honored my arrangement with him.” Killian’s voice punched through the haze like a splash of cold water.

Or a punch in the gut.

“You paid him—”

“Jesus, Scar, I was always going to pay him. That’s what he was here for.”

“But you paid early. You sent a clear message.”

“Why don’t you say what’s really bothering you?”

Jerricho didn’t want to lie here listening; the conversation was too close to his broken bones.

“Don’t turn this on me.” Scarlet was suddenly defensive.

“I want you to say it, Scar. I just want to hear you say it.”

Jerricho moved, the fog in his brain instantly dispersing as pain flared brightly. Hissing, he sank back, willed muscles to unlock and his body to relax.

“Shh. It’s okay.” Scarlet was peering down.

She’d been crying; her eyes were red and her cheeks blotchy. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Where am I?” It hurt to talk.

“Home. You kept mumbling something about no hospital. We had you treated here.”

He nodded and instantly regretted it as pain spiked his brain. “How long?” He gritted his teeth.

“You’ve been out for just over twenty-four hours.”

He started to have some vague recollections. “You were the one waking me up.” He smiled, but it might have been crooked. A patient with concussion had to be woken every two hours.

“She hasn’t left your side.” Killian’s voice broke up the intimacy of their conversation.

The man’s tone reminded Jerricho that they had unfinished business. He was sure being Killian’s punching bag in the warehouse had just been the start of it.

Scarlet reached for his hand and squeezed. “How are you?”

“Alive.”

“I’m angry with you.” Her words burned with emotion.

Killian snorted.

“I’m angry with both of you.” Scarlet turned to glare at Killian.

The man looked unfazed. “Start talking, Black.”

Jerricho’s laugh turned into a cough. Now the bastard wanted to talk …

There was a strange relief in letting the story spill from his lips. He told them enough for them to understand what had happened. Enough to satisfy their questions. Enough to keep his secrets.

Scarlet was equally outraged and horrified for him as the details of the past year unfolded. Killian just stood off to the side, listening and keeping silent.

When he finished, the silence seemed to still echo with his revelation.

“So it’s over.” Scarlet looked like she needed to hear a
yes
.

He shook his head.

Her brow furrowed then her eyes widened. “You were planning to disappear. You were going to take the money and just disappear.”

He could see the idea hurting her. Killian was right. How did Scarlet think this was all going to end?

Did she believe that they were going to go on beyond the forty days? That he was going to be her lover on the side, worse, hired when she needed him? She was living in denial of their reality. Maybe Killian had done them both a favor by paying him off early before this went any further.

Being back here just made things messy. Killing Dado had only solved one of his problems; he still had to clear his name. He had to make a clean break.

He looked at Killian. “I should go. You’re right. My being here only puts everyone in danger. The cartel might still be looking for me.”

“No. Don’t leave me out of this.” Scarlet looked furious as her eyes darted between them. “You don’t get to leave me out of this—”

“Scar.” Killian cut her off. “I want you to leave us. Black has some details he hasn’t told.”

Scarlet didn’t move, cold fury radiating off her.

“Scar—”

“Fuck you both.” She turned and left.

Jerricho felt the twinge in his chest, as if she’d ripped herself out of him. It was what he wanted, wasn’t it? What both men wanted.

It was the way it had to be. It didn’t mean he had to like it.

Jerricho turned his head to look at Killian standing at the window. Suddenly he didn’t give a shit about what the man knew or did to him.

Killian folded his arms, the cobra tattoo reminding Jerricho how quickly he could strike. Tension seemed to seep into the space that Scarlet had left in the room.

“She’s fallen in love with you. Even if she won’t come out and say it.”

He opened his mouth to object, but Killian ignored him.

“Some magic cock.” The man laughed ironically and shook his head.

“Why did you save me?”

Killian looked at him as if he was still considering. “I take care of my own.”

Jerricho didn’t even know what that meant.

“Thank you. I owe you.” He would repay it by disappearing from their lives just like Killian had wanted.

Killian shrugged. “No, I didn’t do it for that.”

Jerricho’s head hurt again. He couldn’t match Killian like this, didn’t have the clarity of thinking yet to have this conversation and not fall into the man’s hands.

Killian walked up to the base of the bed. “I’m not going to insult you and ask you how much you charge for men.”

He couldn’t have heard that right.
Right?

“Wha—?”

“Do you do men, Black?”

Jerricho had grown up in a part of the world where access to men had been easier than girls. It could also get you imprisoned or killed. In the war, people looked the other way. He’d have to have been celibate if he didn’t have a taste for both sexes … but he’d learned to keep his silence.

“That’s the only way this will work.” Killian slid his hands into his pockets and stared off into the distance out of the window. “When I paid you off, it was mostly about Scar. Mostly …” Killian left it there.

Quiet.

Except in his head. In his head there was only noise as thoughts raced and collided. He didn’t think misunderstood Killian’s proposal. If he acted on it, where would that take him? What about clearing his name? What about Scarlet?

They stared at each other as if there was nothing more to say, as if there was everything to talk about.

“Your medical records are on the bedside table next to you. I knew you’d want to read them.” Killian was back to business. “There’s no break in your hand, but the swelling indicates potential tendon damage. Other than the nose, you have a fracture to your cheekbone, but your ribs are miraculously unbroken.” He turned and walked toward the door. “A physiotherapist will come see you tomorrow. Tomorrow you’ll also tell me what you left out of your story.”

Scarlet came back into the room and stopped Killian at the door. “I’m going away for a few days to the Blue Mountains. I want to do some voice sessions with Danni, get back into shape, and I don’t want to be here.” She laughed bitterly. “And that doesn’t really matter because you boys will do what you want.” She looked past Killian. “When you leave, don’t forget your money, Jerricho Black.”

Killian wiped his hand over his face, his fingers drawing to a point as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Where was Eli’s fucking boat?

Almost one fucking year and still no closer to ending the nightmare.

He closed his eyes, drawing a tired breath. He felt empty, as if he’d cut out his heart and now he was just a shell.

He wanted to call Scar. He wanted to tell her he loved her. He wanted to tell her it was his fault Black had gone, so he’d brought him back.

He wanted to fill the empty.

He opened his eyes and Black was watching him from the door of his study.

Fuck. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with the man right now.

He knew what Black wanted. After telling him all about Afghanistan, the man had asked if he knew how to find out if anyone was searching for him, if he was on any list. The irony was that the money Black offered for the information had previously been his.

Neither of them mentioned Killian’s proposition.

Maybe Black hadn’t trusted it.

Maybe he didn’t trust it.

Did he want Black because of Scar? She’d never had a lover exclusively of her own. Male, female, they’d always shared, but then they’d never loved them. Did he feel threatened? Was he trying to put himself between them?

He studied Black. The swelling from the broken nose had gone down—the miracle of ice packs—all that was left was some bruising under the eye, barely noticeable with the darker skin. The imperfections didn’t detract from the man’s beauty; it made it lethal.

No, there was only one reason he’d made the proposition.

Black made him hard.

Simple as that.

He rose to his feet and started to come round to the front of his desk to tell Black that he would speak to Eli about information once they found the damn boat and Romeo on it.

Except Black was moving.

In three strides, the man was in front of him. Black’s hand grabbed a fist of hair before capturing his lips. A rough, brutal kiss, a kiss that wasn’t about romance but all about sex.

Every nerve in Killian’s body flared to life, wanting, even as he staggered back from the unexpected force of the man and his lips. He bumped up against the desk, the edge digging into the back of his thighs. The hard body pushed against him.

Trapped. Every instinct in him fought being cornered.

He started to struggle, to push back and push Black away.

Except he felt him, felt Black’s hardening cock.

Killian’s own desire snaked through his belly and curled heavy into his balls. Everything pulled tight in his groin.

Fuck, this was what he needed.

The tension in him began to melt, even as he had the realization that this should’ve been Scar. He needed this with Scar.

Black’s teeth caught his bottom lip and tugged and he groaned.

There was no more thinking.

There was only a hot wet mouth on his.

His tongue flicked out, seeking the oblivion.

Black devoured him. All the man’s power flowed into his kiss. He was feral. And fucking beautiful.

He tasted heady.

And exotic.

Killian’s head rolled back as Black bit down on his throat. Eyes closed, he could feel the jaws close on the current of his heartbeat, the flick of the tongue against his pulse.

Everywhere throbbed.

Black’s hands dropped to Killian’s belt. Rough movements tugging at his pants, the fabric created friction as it rubbed over his cock.

He hissed and jerked his hips back, the promise alone too much for a starving man.

He reached back to grip the edge of the desk tightly.

Knuckles and fingers bumped against his shaft. A deliberate riot of sensation. He had no doubt Black could undress him with a finesse that would be equally excruciating, but Killian liked being assaulted by him. If he couldn’t have Scar, he needed Black to be different.

Black’s hand slipped into the opening of Killian’s pants, moving in-between fabric and flesh. The shock of skin on skin, so electric he barked out a shout.

The hand, warm and large, slid over his cock and reached down between his spread legs. Cupping his balls, the sinfully skilled fingers fondled his sac. It was hard to think past the present, the pang for Scar passing.

Killian opened his eyes. Dark eyes stared down at him. The gold iris rimmed the dilated pupils like a ring of fire. A finger slid against his perineum, stroking.

Fuck.

His knees almost buckled.

Skin tight on his knuckles, he gripped the desk harder. He could run a four-minute mile but that simple touch was all it took to make his breath erratic.

Black’s grip changed as he lifted Killian’s cock out of his pants. The cool burst of air after the intimate heat pulled a sound from deep in his throat.

Black stepped back slightly, letting more of that cool air flow between them as he watched Killian draw a shaky breath. If not for the bulge in his pants, Killian would swear the man was unaffected, but that was what Black did—unraveled the object of his desire while he grounded himself in certainty.

“Yes. I do men, but I don’t bottom.” A smirk crept into Black’s features. The corner of his eyes crinkling slightly, enjoying the effect he was having. It was the first thing he’d said since he entered the room. Instead of breaking the spell, it sealed it.

“I do, but—” Killian wanted to say he didn’t submit, but the voice left his words as Black unexpectedly sank to his knees, creating a shift in the balance of power that momentarily disorientated him.

His anatomy wasn’t confused by what was happening. All his blood seemed to have rushed into his cock as it bobbed. His heartbeat throbbed maddeningly along his shaft.

Sweet Jesus.

That mouth swallowing the length of him forced his breath out his nostrils as his heart kicked in his chest. The visual of Black on his knees, his lips against Killian’s skin, took every ounce of control to hold back. His cock twitched as his body trembled.

Black moved, drawing a hiss from between Killian’s teeth as the man’s teeth lightly scraped up his shaft.

He didn’t care what anyone said. Eyes closed, it was impossible to tell the sex of the mouth. Male. Female. The mouth felt the same. No, it was all in the technique. A woman could blow you as if your cock was the only thing in the world that mattered. But a man, he blew you like he knew how it felt. Both were fucking poetry, but they flowed in a different language.

He wanted to watch.

He wanted to see the act of his undoing, but together, the visual and the sensation were too much. It had been too long.

On a strangled cry, he threw back his head. The chords in his neck strained as he struggled to keep himself on the edge. Teeth, tongue, and lips worked his shaft to push him over.

He could feel the delicious tension build and build and build. His whole lower body tingled as the pressure turned into the sweetest, sharpest ache.

When Black cupped his balls again, his hips bucked, forcing his cock deeper down the man’s throat.

He gave up on the restraint.

He began to fuck back. To chase the very edge of his desire, an edge so sharp it cut.

He choked out a strangled cry as he burst past the point of no return. His cock jerked violently as it pumped into Black’s mouth. His hips arching off the desk as he tried to thrust even deeper as he spilled.

He reached for Black’s shoulders, balancing as he felt the wash of weakness following the rush of pleasure, but Black grabbed his hands and held them behind his back, the secure grip holding him up.

Black was back in control, the message unmistakable.

Killian didn’t fight his hold as the man reclaimed the rhythm again … sucking and licking him clean. The white noise of oblivion still muffled the world but for the very real and sharp sensation sending shocks along his sensitive cock.

He hissed and tried to pull out, but Black held him a moment longer, turning the too much into something different, a hurt that started to feel good.

Then Black let him fall, soft and satiated, from the warmth of his mouth. He gently pushed Killian back against the desk to rest. There was no urgency anymore. Spent and relaxed, he sank against the wood.

Eventually, Killian opened his eyes. Black was standing, watching him as he drew the back of his hand across his lips.

Jesus not that. Not obligation.

“You don’t owe me.” It hurt to say, the thought that Black thought this was payment.

Black tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “You think that’s what I did? How many ways do you think I can be bought?”

If there had been any sense of intimacy, it had just left.

Killian choked out a laugh and shook his head. Of course, he was getting to be a real expert in pushing people away.

He looked into Black’s sober gaze.

He should apologize to Black. He knew it, but the words were stuck.

Black opened his mouth to say something, but then changed his mind as he turned and left.

He picked up the phone, dialed and waited.

It rang three times.

He spoke before she even said hello. “I love you. Please come home.”

“I love you too.” She didn’t miss a beat.

He closed his eyes and relaxed. There was a reason he’d fallen so wildly in love with her. The fact that they’d both grown up without meant she understood life was broken, just like him. He could never give someone perfect, and Scar had never asked for it.

“The voice sessions are done. It’s been so good to reconnect, Danni wants me to stay a few days.” She paused. “But I want to come home.”

He smiled.

“Is Jerricho still there?” There was so much hope in those words.

“Yes, he is.”

She made a little noise and he pictured her smiling. He could hear her draw in a deep breath.

“I love him, Killian,” she said it so softly, as if the words were barely breathed.

“I know.”

“Does that make me bad?”

“Never.”

“I think you could like him … if you gave him a chance.”

He gave an ironic laugh.

“Why’d you bring him back, Killian?”

“Because I love you.”
Why do I have to catch Romeo? Why can’t I sleep with you?
“No matter what you ask, the answer will always be the same—because I love you.”