Page 11 of Enemy
I give him a non-committal groan, glad I’m behind a table, because the memory of his tongue against my skin makes my dick interested. And yeah, I already jerked off to that last night. I’m only human.
“I know you suspect the Vultures are behind Roy’s death, but—”
“They are.” For all I know, Road, as their enforcer could have been behind it and is now fucking with me. Who else would have left a dead crow inside my brother’s chest? They’re into that kind of occult stuff. At least Prophet is, and he’s their prez.
Bracer clears his throat and taps the folder. “We don’t know that. Any leads have dried up. If anything unfolds in the future, I’m all for pursuing revenge, but right now? It’s bad for business, Clyde. The truce has served us. The Vultures aren’t buzzing around us likea bunch of angry hornets, I think they understood how much bigger our club is when we attacked that warehouse.”
I rub my forehead in frustration. “Someone needs to pay.”
Bracer glances out of the small window, at some of our guys working on repairing a truck in the back of the garage we own. “We’ll likely never find out who it was exactly. They’re all at fault and the guy who carried it out was just doing what he was told. I know it, you know it, but unfortunately, Grizzly doesn’t seem to get that they didn’t kill Roy for some personal vendetta. Unless you’re planning to eliminate their whole club, we should make it symbolic, just pick one of their guys when the opportunity presents itself. You have Grizzly’s ear, maybe if you spoke to him—”
The phone in my pocket buzzes with such intensity I swear Road must have set it up that way so it feels like a fucking vibrator. I raise my finger and get up. “I have to take this. I’ll get back to you on that.”
Bracer slumps in the chair, but I storm out, heading across the lounge, where Grizzly’s playing cards with two other members, and then down the corridor, where the restrooms are. By the time I manage to lock the door behind me, the damn thing stops vibrating, and I knock my forehead against the black tiles that now surround me from all sides.
Maybe it was just a spam call?
But no, when I unlock the phone and take a look at the notification, the connection did come from the one number in the contacts.
I shut the toilet seat and sit on the lid with a groan. What was I even thinking? I was supposed to get rid of this incriminating evidence, not make eyes at a dick pic taken by a guy who might have played a part in my older brother’s murder!
I’m pondering what to do next when the phone vibrates in my palm, and the icon attached to the sole contact—the same dick pic as the wallpaper—appears in the middle of the screen.
It’s a drug to be so desired by a guy who could be my wet dream if he wasn’t the Vulture Hollow MC enforcer. Fuck it. Who am I kidding? He’s been my wet dream for months now.
I answer the phone, only to realize it’s a video call when my own face appears in a small window on the side, right next to the cock I’m getting so familiar with.
Only this time, I see my eyes grow as if I’ve just snorted coke. I turn my own camera off in panic, but I’m in too deep to refuse the call altogether.
This is happening live. Road’s got his stiff dick in his hand. Right now, wherever he is. My breath hitches when he runs his thumb over the rigid length, and I can now assess its size so much better. While not crazy long, it’s a very good size, and when light reflects off the liquid smeared over the cockhead, I salivate like Pavlov’s dog.
The walls close in on me, locking me in a universe of my own, where consequences of my actions are not a thing, and where I can in fact allow myself to enjoy the view on my screen.
But nothing could have prepared me for the raspy tone coming from the speakers.
“I bet you wish you were here. I would let you touch it,” Road says, stepping back. I now realize he must have placed his own phone somewhere, because I see both his hands now, one sliding between his legs to cup his balls, the other—riding up his abdomen. Just seeing it happen makes my skin twitch. Everywhere.
There’s a certain safety in the screen. I don’t need to commit to anything. I’m just watching. I’m not even talking to him.
But deep down, I know how wrong this is. This information about him could be useful to my club. We could destroy him, and yet I’ve been keeping it to myself like a filthy secret.
Road has yelled at me, snarled at me, and whispered threats. This soft, tempting warmth is a new side of him, one I had no idea existed.
I’m glued to the phone as though it’s my lifeline, and I can’t help it, I do imagine being wherever he is and shamelessly touching his cock. I’d feel it push against the heel of my hand, then let the cockhead slide all the way up to my inner wrist.
“The call’s still live, so I assume you like what you’re seeing,” he rasps and lifts his hand, palm up. A soft moan escapes my lips when spit lands on his fingers, and he smooths it over the shaft, stroking himself without hurry.
I find myself unable to decide where I should focus my attention, because while that beautiful cock is the obvious choice, and the most forbidden, I can’t help but swallow at the sight of his abs. The man’s a cockroach. A coyote. A vulture. But if God exists, he made Road’s body his favorite project. His hips are narrow, with a pronounced Apollo’s belt diverting attention right to where he wants it, and his abs would have been the muse of all the gay sculptors of the Renaissance.
How could I look away?
Worse still? I’m not just looking. My dick is so hard it’s burning through my jeans, so I open them as quietly as I can. I huff in relief when I wrap my fingers around my aching hard cock.
Go on, I think to myself,stroke it.
My mouth is dry, my mind is scrambled, and I don’t dare blink.
I watch porn sometimes. I’ve got a secret stash in the woods, all analog, in case someone wanted to hack my phone. This? This is different. It’s another person, someone I know, and the show is for my excitement only. He wantsmeto want him, formeto see him. That alone is… addictive.
