Page 45 of An Assassin's Death
I shift and ah, yep. There it is. His dick hardens low against my stomach.
Now that the main brain is present.
I press a slow kiss to the side of his neck and he hums a groan of a response.
And then… I start the clock.
The men around me halt with their looks of amusement and confusion as time itself stands still. I take a self-satisfying second to pull back and look Jameson in the eye.
He sees me and my pursing lips as I stare at him with a sultry glare.
I’m going to be cutting it close on time. As quickly as possible, I shove out of the constricting material. A ripping sound comes from somewhere but I don’t give it a second thought as I push the gray sweats down Jameson’s hips. The black boxers he wears are pulled tight against his erection and I only stare blatantly at his hard length for two seconds—three at the most. Okay it was probably close to five.
And it’s five painful seconds at that. The intimidating outline is literally so big my cervix hurts just looking at it. If my gag reflex has anything to say about it, this will be the first and last time I ever intentionally make Jameson hard again.
I struggle on my heels to push the dress over his perfect hair. Just like a doll, I dress him how I want. I pull hard at the hem, forcing it down his strong thighs.
It’s a mess. He’s a hot mess. Blonde locks stick up at all angles. The crimson dress is askew and barely pulled up over his pecs and forced down to cover his cock while his sweatpants lay in a heap around his ankles.
Aww, but he’s just so damn cute.
In my bra and underwear and towering heels, I stand back to admire my work. A pleased smile pulls at my lips just as the clock starts to dwindle down.
I lock eyes with him and makes sure my voice is one of authority when I speak.
“We’re a team, Jameson. If one of us wears a uniform, we all have to.”
The sixty seconds releases, time starts up once more, and I know the moment it has because Tylin’s rumbling laughter echoes into the room. Followed by a coughing laugh from Mason and even a low sound from Rory that could be considered a laugh.
Jameson’s pretty eyes close slowly but there’s a hint of a smile in his features. When his eyes open, his gaze trails over my lace underwear and against every inch of my skin but I keep that assured confidence in place.
My hip juts out as I turn away and even I’m impressed when I don’t stumble on my heels.
“Who knew you had the body to fill all that out?” Mason says to his friend.
I smirk to myself while I stride back up the stairs for that alone time that I need even more now.
Jameson’s a good sport, but he seems to want the last word.
“Your ass still looks amazing when you stomp up those stairs, baby.”
I don’t look back at him as I continue my storming steps, my hand held high with a gesture raised just for him.
Twenty-Two
Flocking Moths
Over the next few days,something changes between us. I’m not saying they’re buying me roses and serenading me beneath the moonlight, but they are acting like I’m a part of the team instead of the enemy.
I sit on my little perch on the kitchen counter, but instead of congregating around the table, they seem to linger around me. Hmm. I’m not going to mention it, but I feel a little like the bright light among flocking moths right now.
I open my gauze and Tylin steps closer to help me with the bandages.
Flock moths, flock.
I can’t help but watch him as he slowly starts to wrap my hand for me. He doesn’t give me a second look though. Dark eyes are set on my healing fingers. He just acts like it’s something he always does. As if taking care of me is the most natural thing in the world to him.
Mason’s attention flickers to his friend for only an instant before he pushes the yellow pencil across the white printer paper.
