Page 33 of Knot Their Arrangement

The sound of him —the soft, wet noises, the low hums of satisfaction— is enough to push me closer to the edge. My chest heaves, my breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as he quickens his pace.

“You…fuck…you’re going to kill me,” I manage to grit out, my voice strained.

Ezekiel pulls back just enough to smirk, his lips glistening.

“Not yet,” he murmurs before taking me back in, deeper this time, until his nose brushes against my pelvis.

“Fuck,” I groan because it’s that good.

So fucking good, I’m losing my mind.

The sensation is too much, too good, and my hips jerk despite his firm grip. He doesn’t let up, his movements growing more urgent, more relentless. My body tenses, my muscles coiling as the pressure builds, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume me.

And then I’m gone.

I come with a strangled groan, my release hitting hard and fast, spilling down his throat in thick, hot pulses. He takes it all, his throat working around me, his hands gripping my thighs to keep me grounded. The world blurs, my vision going white as the pleasure crashes over me, leaving me trembling, spent.

Far too satisfied to admit.

That’s the thing with both of us. We’re good with our mouths, both in getting shit done and working each other up into oblivion.

Ezekiel pulls back slowly, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he looks up at me. My chest heaves, my breath ragged, and I can’t help but return his grin, completely wrecked but utterly content.

“Fuck,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair, trying to catch my breath.

Ezekiel’s hand moves to the base of my cock, his fingers massaging the knot there, drawing out the last shudders of pleasure. “Are we even now?” he offers, his voice low and teasing.

I let out a breathless laugh, my head falling back against the seat.

“You…you’re a menace,” I grumble, but I can admit this odd tie. “Yeah. We’re even…for now.”

He leans in, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that’s surprisingly gentle, almost tender.

"You love it," he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin, and the deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down my spine.

And damn it, he's right.

"Whatever," I dismiss him, but we both know it's a weak defense. He knows my heart, just like he knows every other part of me. This connection between us still burns as bright as it did that first night, maybe even brighter now that we've had years to learn each other's bodies and souls.

We take a moment to compose ourselves, adjusting clothing and settling back into our respective seats. The air in the car feels thick with satisfaction and unspoken promises.

As Ezekiel puts the car in drive, I study his profile, admiring how the streetlights play across his features. I’m relieved he looks far more relaxed than before, especially with all that tension out of his system.

He may love this job but he also doesn’t acknowledge the strain it leaves on him.

That’s why instances like this are far better for him than he dares to admit.

Before he can turn onto the main road, I touch his arm.

"Drop me at the intersection."

He gives me that look – the one that questions my sanity while simultaneously acknowledging he'll probably go along with whatever I suggest.

"Really?"

"Think about it," I say, letting my fingers trail down his arm. "How would it look if the city's most dedicated detective dropped off the criminal mastermind…the one your chief just spent twenty minutes ranting about…at his mansion? Even if every staff member knows you have special access, those five security gates might raise some eyebrows."

He knows I’m bullshitting because we do this all the time, but tonight I’m sure his Chief is finding excuses to find where he is and ensure he’s doing his sworn responsibilities for this crime-filled city.

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