Page 10 of The Boss
Conall shifted, his face screwed up and his mouth clearly still full of Sloan’s cum. He swallowed, his nose and mouth scrunched in distaste. “That’s disgusting.”
Sloan raised an eyebrow and let his gaze travel over the muscular body crouched beside him. It landed on Conall’s crotch, where his hard cock no longer bulged in his trousers. He smirked. “I don’t think you entirely agree with that, pet.”
Conall glared. “Fuck you.”
Sloan laughed deeply.
Chapter Three
Fuck. Jesus Christ on a cross. Conall was in deep shit. He knew it, there was nothing he could do to get out of it, and it was all Terrance’s fucking fault. He’d kill his brother and bury his body beside their dad’s. Maybe Killough could join them too.
He sighed and stared out the window of the BMW. They drove through the city carefully, inconspicuously. They’d passed at least ten different cop cars, yet the cops had no idea who sat in the back beside Conall. If they did, they’d have already made it to detective status, maybe even captain. Every cop in the city wanted to nab Sloan Killough, but with no proof of his activities or a link between him and the crime, Killough could walk straight into a station and say hello and there was nothing they could do about it.
Conall shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His dried seed stuck to his pubic hair, a reminder that he hadn’t even touched himself before his cock exploded in his underwear. All because he sucked Killough’s cock and balls. It pissed him off. He didn’t like sucking cock, especially not one that belonged to a smug piece of shit like the man sitting beside him, except apparently his traitorous body disagreed. He had no idea why his mouth getting fucked had made him so horny. He was the top, he took charge. Fuck if he’d become the bitch of the relationship. He wasn’t anyone’s pet.
He ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth, grimacing. The taste of Killough’s seed lingered there, its bitterness heavy on his tongue. It tasted as bad as he expected it to. He needed to pat Forrest on the back the next time he saw him because he couldn’t imagine swallowing so many different guys’ cum.
The car was stifling, and claustrophobia pressed down on him while he sat there in the back seat with the privacy screen up between them and the driver. The ride was long and tedious, and he felt restless, shifting in the seat uncomfortably. He wanted a hot shower to wash the imaginary grime off his body. His dried seed definitely needed to go because he hated the reminder every time he moved.
“What are you thinking about, pet?” Killough laid a hand on his thigh.
Conall’s eyes narrowed on it, but he resisted the urge to shove it off. “Nothing.”
Killough shook his head and tutted, a noise so similar to one Conall’s mom used to do at him when he was a kid. “So stubborn.”
“Where are we going?”
“To my house in Southampton.” Killough glanced at him and smirked. “We’re nearly there. We have about ten minutes before we arrive.”
“You live in the Hamptons?” He peered back out the window. He’d been so focused on his inner thoughts that he hadn’t realized they’d left the city. “How long have we been traveling for?”
“It takes a couple of hours or so to get there.” Killough nursed another glass of whiskey in his hand, ice clinking in it this time.
Conall didn’t bother asking for one because he already knew the answer he’d get. He couldn’t help but focus on the amber liquid that sloshed from side to side when Killough rocked it, and he swallowed around the dryness in his mouth.
Killough’s eyes dipped to the glass and his smirk transformed into a smile that didn’t really suit him. It was too nice, unlike the sardonic grins he usually had on his face. He held out the glass in Conall’s direction.
Conall hesitated.
“Take it, pet. You deserve it. You impressed me.”
He didn’t argue. He snatched the glass out of Killough’s hand and swallowed it in one swig, the liquid burning its way down his throat and warming his belly. Fuck. That tasted like luxury. He didn’t know what kind of whiskey it was, but he could taste the expensiveness of it in its smoothness.
Killough stroked his thigh. “Like I said, you’ll be rewarded when you deserve it.”
Conall dropped the glass back on the small bar. He didn’t look at Killough, shame curling in his stomach. He’d sucked Killough off, had his cock in his mouth and swallowed his seed. He’d probably take his cock in his arse tonight, too. The thought sent a shiver along his spine, but he didn’t know if it was from excitement or fear.
Killough’s fingers moved to his crotch, and Conall’s breath hitched. He waited, chest still as anticipation hummed inside of him, but nothing came. Then the car’s wheels crunched over gravel, loud in the otherwise quiet interior, and it pulled to a stop. The back door opened suddenly, and that monster of a guard stepped to the side. The weight of Killough’s hand disappeared, and he stepped out, leaving Conall lounging there like a desperate little puppy waiting for an order.
“Come, pet.”
And there was his master’s command. The indignant part of him wanted to tell the bastard to kiss his arse, but he could only push the mob boss’s boundaries so much before his patience snapped.
Conall slid across the seat and out Killough’s side, his boots crunching on the stones of the driveway. He glanced up at the mansion looming over them, and bit down on his bottom lip to stop himself from gasping at the sheer beauty and size of it. The Exotic Virtue’s exquisiteness was nothing compared to Killough’s home. It was two stories of glamorous architecture, with white panels, a peaked roof, individual room balconies, and a brownstone chimney. The lush and bright green yard ran for miles in either direction, with vibrant flowering trees fluttering in the sea breeze. Conall could smell the salt of the ocean in the air, so fresh, and unlike the pollution of New York City.
“How close are we to the beach?”
Killough’s lips curled, a dimple forming in his cheek. Conall hadn’t noticed it before. “Less than a two-minute walk.”
