Ian’s nose and lips pressed against the back of his neck. He inhaled in a wet, hot groan. Ian’s tongue poked out, gliding up Cole’s nape, tickling the short hairs behind his ear. “Oh, yes,” Ian moaned. “That’s it. That’s exactly it. I knew you’d smell so fucking good with his death all over you.” He moaned again. Breathed hard, in short, frantic grunts.
OH. MY. GOD.
