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“Mulvaney,” the boy parroted. “Cool. I’ve never had one of those before.”
He just hadn’t expected it to be this hot…and dirty. He hated getting dirty.
Beside him, a man in his late twenties stood holding a wicked-looking serrated blade. He wore faded blue jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt that revealed an intricate tattoo down his entire left arm. Atticus found himself riveted in place as he took in thick black hair and serious eyebrows set over dark brown eyes. The stranger looked equal parts irritated and surprised, but it was clear he was weighing his options.
“Jesus, please, don’t say all Asians look the same,” Atticus begged. “Die with some fucking dignity.”
Atticus swung his feet, looking down at his granola bar. It wasn’t his usual brand.
He’s so cute 🥹
“No, not fair is you raping and abusing powerless women who were just trying to make a living. What’s not fair is using fear and intimidation to hide your crimes. What’s not fair is forcing girls to have unwanted abortions to keep your sick fucking fetishes to yourself. That wasn’t fair. This… This is fucking karma. You taking your last guess or not?”
“Like, your literal brothers, or are you in a gang of beefy gingers, who look like they moonlight as insurance salesmen?”
“I’m not gay,” Atticus managed, sounding unsure even to himself. The stranger grinned, and Atticus’s stomach did somersaults. “Yeah, but you’re not straight either, are you?” “I’m a psychopath,” Atticus blurted. The stranger leaned forward, his whisper conspiratorial. “I’m a Scorpio. I still like banging dudes.”
“I always wanted to suck off a ginger. Do you taste different?” “That’s offensive,” Atticus managed, earning another grin from Jericho. That fucking smile.
He had no idea what had just happened or how things had gone so wrong, but he’d just given a hand job to a man three feet away from a fingerless corpse. There was no way he was telling his father that.
He had a plan for his life and it didn’t involve jerking off beautiful murderers in creepy cabins.
He bet, with just the right amount of pressure, his little ginger psychopath would do dirty, dirty things for him.
How did he let these kids run him around like this? He was the adult. They were all adults, really, but still. He was the adultiest of the adults at thirty.
Not one ounce of respect out of these little monsters. Not a drop.
He couldn’t picture Atticus—his Atticus—cozying up to that ice cube with boobs.
Atticus—cozying
🥰
It was just a hookup.
Yep just a hookup
He just stared at the pic of Atticus. His eyes really were so blue. He had a strong jaw, a roman nose, full lips that Jericho knew from experience were soft and supple and parted so easily for him.
Oh yeah just a hookup
“I’m here to see Atticus Mulvaney.”
CACKLING JUST A HOOKUP HE SAYS
“I have no idea. You’re kind of under my skin. I think it’s the freckles. I’m a sucker for freckles.”
Jericho ran his tongue along the seam of Atticus’s lips teasingly. “Open up for me, Freckles. You know you want to.”
“That’s good. Really good. Give me your tongue.”
Jesus
His lids fluttered shut. Open up for me. Give me your tongue. He couldn’t stop the shiver that rolled over him.
Not knowing if he’d see him again had stolen his breath and forced him to act on instinct. And his natural instinct had been to kneel. For him. Christ.
He’d been in a dating slump since his brothers had decided to start mating for life like psychotic penguins.
Why had they been so eager to embrace this feeling? It was…awful.
“You don’t have to be crude.” Noah snorted. “Save the righteous indignation, bro. I’m not the one blowing strangers in my office.” Atticus should have just kept his mouth shut. “It was just a temporary insanity thing. I think.”
“It was just a temporary insanity thing. I think.”
It’s not like he’s going to get pregnant.” His gaze raked over Atticus. “Or get you pregnant.” He could feel himself starting to turn red. “That’s not the point.”
He sure will try though 😏
But he hadn’t asked him to show up at his house unannounced. But Atticus hadn’t invited him to his office for oral sex, so he supposed that made them even.
“Come on,” he murmured lightly. “Open up for me. You know what I want.”
“Who are you kidding, Freckles? You know you’ll beg if I tell you to. You’ll do anything I ask if I want you to.” As if to prove his point, he rasped, “Open your mouth.”
“I wonder what else I can make you do for me?” Atticus fucking wondered, too. He was in over his head.
He didn’t know why he needed Atticus to submit, but he did. He needed him to admit only Jericho could be this for him, whatever it was.
“You know what I’m waiting for, Freckles. I told you I wasn’t going to fuck you until you were begging for it. Until you couldn’t think of anything but me inside you. Are you there yet?” he taunted against his lips.
“I need the words. I need to hear you beg.”
“It’s going to feel so fucking good when I slide inside you. I know you want it, too. Look at how hard you are just thinking about it. Just give me what I want and I’ll give you what you need.”
“I’ve never had a friend before. I don’t think I’m qualified.”
“I watched you cut a guy’s fingers off during a racist game of Jeopardy. I guess I thought there was a cone of silence thing happening here. Don’t friends have secrets?”
Why had he just blurted out a huge family secret, one he’d been furious to find that Adam and August had revealed so easily?
But he didn’t want to think about Jericho kissing or fucking anybody else, and he certainly didn’t want to think about him…comforting them or cuddling them. What the fuck?
“Whenever I kiss you, touch you, tell you what to do…your eyes get all hazy and you just do it. You’re so…obedient. It’s so goddamn sexy.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Atticus said. He turned away only to find himself spun back around and pushed against the brick wall, Jericho’s lips millimeters from his. “That’s not how you say goodbye to me.” He gave Atticus a kiss that curled his toes and then he was gone, the door slamming behind him, leaving Atticus just standing there, the icy wind beating against his face.
“A demon would be easier to get rid of.” Because he would actually want a demon expelled from his body. But not Jericho. And that was a big problem.
That was fine with Jericho. He would happily let Atticus play pillow princess if that made him happy.
He’d lied to Atticus the other night—had lied right to his face. He’d told him he was a touchy-feely guy, that he had sleepovers with his hookups.
He didn’t want to be the reason Jericho looked like that. He couldn’t be. He grabbed Jericho, pulling him back in, forcing himself to be honest. “Also, because seeing you upset makes me feel…unsettled.”
Your neediness radiates off of you. Your need to be perfect. Your need to be the best.” Jericho grew bolder as Atticus swallowed audibly. “I don’t mind babying you, Freckles. I don’t mind all those big feelings you pretend you don’t have. I like taking care of you.”
“Does anybody else know how easily you submit?” He captured Atticus’s bottom lip with his teeth, tugging gently, before letting it go. “Does anybody else know how you sound when you moan my name, when you beg me to fuck you, how your eyes get all cloudy when I tell you to open up for me?”
“I thought you were at the morgue with your boyfriend,” August said, arching a brow, the slightest smile on his smug face.
