These Vile Secrets (Enclave, #1)

by C.E. Ricci

But I will say, this one has everything I’d want in a guy written all over him.

"Are you done eye-fucking me from across the bar and ready to get out of here? Or is playing coy your style?"

Like he’s imagining all the filthy things we’re about to go do together. Because, make no mistake about it, we’re about to make an orgy look tame.

"Any other little rules I should know about?"

"I don't kiss," he murmurs against my jaw, trailing his lips against the stubbled skin there.

"How Pretty Woman of you."

I'd let him rob me and toss me in the street to starve, only to say thank you if it meant keeping his mouth on me for the rest of my goddamn life.

I’d gladly bow down at his feet and worship him like the god he is. If only I knew his name.

Not to say I haven't made it there, but what heir doesn't end up in some sort of gossip column once or three dozen times in their life?

One, he could go the easy route and pretend this is the first time we’ve met. Act as if he doesn't know me, who I am, how my lips feel against his throat, or what my cock tastes like when it's sliding over his tongue.

But something about the way he glares at me makes this bastard better looking in the light of day.

This asshole in Armani had his lips wrapped around my cock less than forty-eight hours ago. And now he's my boss. Well, for the next twelve months.

"Nah, that's okay. I'm a big fan of oral. You perform it spectacularly, as I recall. But of course, you already knew that. How did you put it? I'd lose my fucking mind through the duration of it?"

"Oh? Then why are we here, Mister Calloway?" The way he says my name has my blood heating.

It hurts to admit, even if only to myself, he's one of the most beautiful men I've ever seen.

"If that were the case, I would’ve felt your cum slide down my throat while I was on my knees in the back of your limo."

"I could be your favorite mistake, baby."

No, you most certainly aren't, little Mitchell. You're twice as lethal as all of them put together.

By this morning, I was nipping at his heels for even an ounce of his attention not pertaining to actual work.

If I managed to get him in bed—or just in me—would this feeling in my gut go away? Maybe I just need to have him...fuck himself out of my system?

Which, yeah, he pulls off the broody-asshole-in-a-suit to perfection. He's the

He's still sexy as fuck when he does it too, and even more when he puts me in place with his quick wit and snarky replies to my advances.

But I'm selfish, and I want to be the person who sees both sides of him.

I want the guy who is confident in the boardroom and the bedroom, and while I might have him in the former, I'm fucking...

and I have to get my damn head on straight when it comes to my favorite asshole in Armani.

I'll say I'm not entirely sure he swings that way." From the way he all but swallowed my cock when we left this place, I'd say he most definitely does.

He pauses, probably waiting for me to object, but hell if I'm about to stop someone who actually gives a fuck enough to want to help me. I need all the people like him I can get in my life.

"I shouldn't be surprised to find you here," a smooth voice I've come to realize as my kryptonite says from behind me.

But the second I look at him, I can't seem to stop myself from turning toward him. I'm instantly ensnared by his presence alone.

No shocker, once this asshole enters the room, he's all I manage to focus on.

"The last person to talk to me like that?" he says, his attention moving back to me as he raises a brow. "I got down on one knee for."

More is something I definitely don't want. Not from him, not from anyone. Not anymore.

He's wearing glasses today, thick black rims that scream Clark Kent to me the more I look at them. And it does everything for him.

but the corner of his mouth does tilt up slightly. Shit, that look makes me kinda stupid.

Because just when I didn't think Hale Calloway could get any sexier, he goes and pulls Mister Remedial Teacher outta his ass, and I start swooning like a goddamn idiot within two minutes.

Jesus Christ. Like I said. Swoon.

"What fucking day, Hale?" A long, irritated sigh escapes him. "February fifth." I smirk, and he narrows his eyes. "Why is that funny to you?" "It's not funny, it just makes a lot of sense."

I'll answer his questions. I'll let him flirt, casually shutting him down each time, no matter how much his persistence seems to turn me on. And wear me down.

I think I’ve made it more than clear I'll happily get on my knees for you."

"I'm sure it would feel like heaven in my ass."

Roman continues as he stares up at me. "The thought of this"—he squeezes on the upstroke—"inside me is doing things to me, baby. It's driving me insane with need. To the point where, if I can't have it inside my ass, I at least want it down my throat."

"The thought of this"—he squeezes on the upstroke—"inside me is doing things to me, baby. It's driving me insane with need. To the point where, if I can't have it inside my ass, I at least want it down my throat."

God, is his mouth made of magic or something? There's no way anyone should be this good at sucking dick.

He's so goddamn beautiful while he fucks me with his mouth. Perfect pink

"Fuck my face, Hale," he says, replacing his mouth with his hand again. His eyes are pleading, but there's challenge in his tone. "Like I know you want to. Use your cock to shut me up. Teach me a lesson. Show me who's really in charge here."

"You want me to use your mouth like my own personal fuck doll?" "Yeah. I really do," he whispers, his voice hoarse and thick with need.

Waiting for me to make a move or request of him. Kneeling at my feet. Submitting to me. It makes me feel powerful.

"Jesus Christ," Roman says as he watches me before sucking the digit into his mouth, tongue twirling around it greedily. "I prefer Hale,"

"You're so fucking beautiful when you lose control. I wish you'd let yourself do it more."

And, my God. He tastes like heaven and hell rolled into one. Like something so absolutely perfect, it has to be a sin.