Waiting On Forever (The Carnal Tower, #2)

by E.M. Lindsey

He wanted to lie on Jet’s bed and let the man rub him down before drawing an orgasm from him or maybe fucking him to sleep.

“No. What’s up, sweetheart? You sound upset.” Taylor squeezed his eyes shut, then let his head fall until his forehead hit the desk. “I just fired Ashlea.” “What?” He heard the background noise of Jet’s call start to fade. “Tell me what happened.”

“Good,” Jet said fiercely. “Oh, you sweet, sweet thing. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, love. That sounds perfect.”

“He absolutely did fucking not,” King muttered.

“That way I could lie down on top of you and stay there and claim you.” “I’m a big fan of that idea,” Taylor said, his voice going soft again. He stroked fingers down the back of Jet’s neck making him want to purr like a cat. “I’m already yours.” “Fuck,” Jet murmured. He pushed his face into Taylor’s front and rubbed it back and forth. “You can’t just say shit like that.” “Think I just did,” Taylor countered.

“I know I made you promise to keep me, but I hope you know I also understand shit happens. Not everything just…works out.” Jet turned his head, and his ear pressed against the quiet thud of Taylor’s heart. “I do know. I know how fucked up and unfair the world can be. I also know that sometimes good things happen. And for me, you’re one of those things.”

“I also want Sloth. I keep thinking about all the things he could do to me. I jerked off picturing it the other day.” Jet groaned and his dick throbbed again. “Yeah?” “Yes,” Taylor said. “I get all of you any time I want, but for just a night, I want all of him.”

“You know it won’t be just him, right? With you, there’s no way I could be just the Sin.” He braced himself for the next words he knew he had to say. “I’m in love with you, Taylor.”

“But I feel it, and life is too fucking short to hold back.”

“Yes, you will. You’ll be him, but you’ll also be a client. You’ll be laying yourself bare for me. Obedient. Ready.”

“Let me give you what you’re craving.” “And what happens after?” Jet closed his eyes, then leaned in and spoke right up against Taylor’s lips. “After? Us begins.”

“Sweetheart? What do you think?” “It’s…” Taylor went quiet, then Jet heard him swallow thickly. “It’s beautiful. Haunting,” he added. “It’s you, but it isn’t you.”

“Is he you, sweetheart?” Jet asked. He felt the rise of Sloth in him now, making his voice curl in his throat, low and sultry. “Is that you at my feet?” “I,” Taylor said, shuddering. “I don’t know.” “I think you do,” Jet said. He pushed Taylor back a few steps, trusting the man to stop him before they toppled into anything. “I think you know. I think you just need time to be brave enough to tell me.”

“And then I get the rest of you?” The question sounded oddly vulnerable, and Jet realized how much it must have been affecting his lover—everything he was holding back.

“You’re exactly what I want.”

He was imposing, but it was more than that. He looked ethereal and fallen and dangerous. He looked like every fantasy and every nightmare Taylor had ever had all wrapped up into one. The texture of the painting added something to it like Sloth was seconds away from bursting free of the canvas. His wings stretched out from one end to the other, and the man kneeling—the one who looked like him—seemed primed and ready to be taken. Like if that was his eternal punishment, he would kneel there willing and ready until time stopped.

“It’s fast,” he said. “Too fast?” There was a note of fear and vulnerability in Jet’s question that made Taylor ache. “I don’t know. I don’t know what is or isn’t,” he admitted. “I just know that I like you more than I have ever liked anyone, and I’m terrified I’m going to fuck it up.”

Jet chuckled, the sound low and dark and seductive. “Then read your contract and don’t make me wait too long.” Taylor nearly moaned at the command,

“Nervous and excited. I’ve been hard since I got home.” Jet’s lips twisted into a smirk—totally unlike him yet so fitting. His hand drifted down Taylor’s front, then cupped him where he was still chubbed up. “Mm. For me?” “It is.” Taylor was kissed again for his honesty.

“I’m going to get ready. I’m going to read over your list…and I’m going to be waiting. He is going to be waiting.”

It smelled vaguely of spices and acrylic paint, which was the strangest most perfect mix of Stone and August.

“Whatever happens tonight, that’s between Sloth and his client. But whatever happens after, that’s between a man and the person he loves.”

“And what kind of friend or brother would I be if I didn’t indulge my Sins the way they indulge everyone else at my request.”

He affected the air of relaxed and lazy, but he had a feeling Taylor would be able to read him like an open book. Sloth was here—present in the room, present in his languid movements and his smirk—but he was merged with the man Taylor was falling for. Exactly as it should be.

“Do you need a moment to adjust to this, my sweet little sinner?”

“My precious little sacrifice.”

He pressed his palm to Taylor’s throat, then used his thumb to lift his chin high enough that he could feel the strain in Taylor’s skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“You’ve been waiting for me a long time, haven’t you?” Taylor’s breath hitched, but again, he said nothing. Jet shifted to the end of his seat, then moved his hand and ran a thumb over Taylor’s mouth. “I’ll never require your silence, sweet little sinner. I want your voice—unrestricted, unbidden. I want you begging, even if you know I won’t give you what you ask for.” Taylor moaned, then nodded against Jet’s hand. “Yes. I’ve been waiting a long time. I think most of my life.”

His precious darling—his sweet, perfect little sinner—was too honest.

“Mm,” Jet scolded. “This isn’t about what you want. This is about you serving me, right here on your knees like the fallen one you are.”

“Now, close your eyes and show me exactly what was in that painting. That was you, after all, my darling. My sinner. So embrace him.”

“And you? My beautiful fallen man—the mortal who lost his soul to a Sin—show me where you belong.” He felt a rush of air before Taylor was suddenly between his legs. One hand was lying on one of Jet’s thighs, the other reaching down, curled around his ankle. The position was open, vulnerable, powerful, needy. It was everything Sloth was. He lay spread out and worshipped by the man on his knees, and Taylor was giving him that.

It was wet, and it was fucking filthy. Jet’s head was spinning with a thousand different ways he could do this again and again without it ever getting boring. Like Taylor being tormented by a vibrator, or having his balls locked up, or his cock caged, or his hands tied. Like Jet lying on his back and unable to move and Taylor taking all the power away from him. Because above all, Jet trusted this man with every single one of his vulnerabilities.

“Nice and slow, my love.”

“I can tell you’re close. Give me your come. It belongs to me,” Jet told him. “Come on, my precious little sinner. You’ve already fallen so far. It’s time to finally land.”

“I’d ask you to be the godfather,” she’d told him that first afternoon while he sat in a chair and hugged the small, frail, overly breakable human in his arms. “But that feels weirdly blasphemous, considering.” Jet snorted and ran his fingers over the tiny little baby nose and the puckered, wrinkly lips. “I’ll be her hell father or something. I don’t know.”