Page 76 of Psychopath

Quinn’s knees weakened. He clutched Zane’s back, unable to resist slipping his hands under the bottom of his T-shirt and stroking over his back muscles. Zane was huge and strong and had pulled Mackie off of him like he weighed nothing. Quinn’s cock twitched.

“You’re so fucking hard right now,” Zane murmured before nipping Quinn’s ear. “When was the last time you…”

“A few weeks ago,” Quinn admitted. He glanced towards the open door, but Zane cupped his face and turned him back to be swallowed by dark eyes.

“When was the last time someone else did it for you?”

Quinn swallowed. It had been months. It would’ve been Damon, but he couldn’t recall the last time he’d jerked Quinn off, or sucked his cock, or anything, not with Zane picking open the catch of his trousers. Zane leaned in close as he took down Quinn’s zipper.

“We can’t,” Quinn said, rolling the back of his head against the wall.

Zane stopped. His eyes darted to the cell door, and he paused as if listening. Quinn held his breath but didn’t hear anything from David in the officers’ box.

Zane’s lips stretched into a smile. “We can,” he whispered.

He crouched as he lowered Quinn’s trousers until they rested on top of his shoes, smiling the whole time, then he looked at Quinn’s cock trapped in his boxers.

“That’s a good look on you,” Zane said, giving him a gentle squeeze.

Quinn shut his eyes and lifted his head towards the ceiling. It was all too much. He flushed with arousal and oversensitivity, and he needed a moment to get his head together.

“Trousers down, shirt still on, boxers…compromised, and are they…are those ankle socks you’re wearing?”

Quinn frowned and opened his eyes. He looked down, which was exactly what Zane wanted him to do because he stroked the heel of his hand over Quinn’s concealed cock, grounding down on the head and making it leak into the cotton. Quinn’s stomach tightened, and he watched slack-mouthed as Zane teased him.

“We can’t,” Quinn gasped.

Zane rolled his eyes as he stood at full height again. “We can.”

He proved they could by tugging down Quinn’s boxers and taking his cock in hand.

“We are,” he growled, stroking Quinn from base to tip. He wasn’t harsh with his strokes nor was he slow; it was a brisk back-and-forth that Quinn knew he’d be unable to hold back from.

Quinn flexed his hips weakly. “I’m going to moan.”

“You can’t moan,” Zane said in his ear. “You’ve got to be really quiet.”

Zane ran his thumb over Quinn’s wet slit.

Quinn gasped, lifting onto his tiptoes.

“Quieter than that.” Zane smirked.

Quinn bit his tongue, but even that wasn’t enough to control the growing groan that wanted to escape him. Zane seemed to sense it, though, and pressed his other hand over Quinn’s mouth.

“You need my help to keep quiet?”

Quinn nodded unsteadily.

Zane jerked Quinn off while staring into his eyes, watching with an intensity that made Quinn blush down to his toes.

“I wish I could do this to you for hours,” Zane murmured. “I’d be slower than this. I’d make you beg and plead.”

Quinn whimpered beneath Zane’s hand.

“I’d let you be as loud as you wanted to be.”

Quinn’s throat vibrated with a moan. Even muffled by Zane’s hand, the sound escaped.

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