Page 19 of The Boss
Conall’s gaze flicked from Killough’s lap to Fionn’s half-smug grin, and while the rebellious side of him wanted to resist, his stomach grumbled hungrily, and he knew he didn’t have a choice. Killough probably planned this.
He pushed out of his chair and squared his shoulders, taking a seat in Killough’s lap. He bit down on his tongue to stop himself from saying anything that would cause him to starve.
Killough’s arms wrapped around him, his fingers stroking along Conall’s thigh. “Have some, pet, and feed me while you’re at it.”
Conall’s spine stiffened, but hunger won the battle over resistance. He grasped the knife and fork, cutting and stabbing some of the delicious-smelling food. Taking a bite, he groaned as the burst of flavors exploded in his mouth. The sugary syrup balanced perfectly with the fluffy pancakes. A raspberry went into his mouth next and elicited another moan.Fuck yes.
Killough stroked his thigh harder. “You’re so pretty when you moan,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice.
Fionn didn’t seem surprised or interested, though. He was too busy eating his own food.
If his mouth wasn’t full, Conall might have told him to shut the fuck up. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.
“Give me a bite, pet.”
Conall threw a glare over his shoulder but cut a piece of the pancakes, then held the fork toward Killough. He opened his mouth, taking the bite in and closing his eyes. Humming, he looked at Conall again, and smiled around the food he was chewing.
“Delicious,” he purred. The one word sent a shiver of delight through Conall’s body because he knew Killough wasn’t just talking about the food. Before Conall could pull his hand away, Killough snatched his wrist and brought it closer. He took the fork out of Conall’s hand and sucked his fingers into his mouth, lapping at them like he was chasing the taste of the food.
Fionn had looked up now and rolled his eyes. Killough must have caught it, because he said, “Leave, Fionn.”
“I haven’t finished breakfast yet,” he argued, but one look from Killough had Fionn standing, taking his plate of food with him.
When the door shut behind him, Killough sighed. “He’s still learning.”
Conall snorted. “I don’t care.”
“I’m sure you don’t, pet, but I’d like you and my nephew to get along. You’ll be around each other for a long time.”
“I hope not.”
Killough laughed. “So fiery. I do like it.”
Conall resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. He stole the fork back off Killough and cut off another piece of pancake. He dipped it in some of the syrup that gathered on the plate and shoved it into his mouth. Three pieces later, Killough opened his mouth, and Conall dutifully fed him. When the plate was empty and his stomach full, he went to get off Killough’s lap, but Killough grabbed him around the waist, stopping him.
“I like you in my lap, pet.”
Killough rubbed himself against Conall’s arse, and Conall felt every inch of his long, thick length. The thought of it in his hole made him shudder.
Conall grabbed Killough’s fingers, ripping his arm off from around him so he could stand. He nearly stumbled in his hurry to get up, and Killough laughed at him, which only annoyed him more. He glared. “Your nephew said you get off on me fighting against you. Is that what makes your dick hard? Because I can be really obedient if that means you’ll let me go earlier.”
Killough raised that annoyingly perfect eyebrow. “Fionn has a point, but you’re not here because you’re disobedient—you’re here because you’re beautiful, and you’d be even more stunning with my collar on you.”
Conall reeled back in surprise, eyes widening. “Collar? You actually have a collar? You’re fucking nuts.”
Killough pushed the chair back and stood. He towered over Conall, looking formidable even as he squinted because of the sun shining into his eyes. He’d trimmed his beard this morning, and if Conall had it his way, he’d want it gone completely because the thing had given him an annoying rash between his arsecheeks. The reminder of Killough’s tongue in his hole made his toes curl against the tiles, though. Fuck, it’d been nice. He’d eaten Forrest out before, but he’d never imagined having it done to himself.
“You will wear my collar, Conall, for your own safety more than anything.” He stepped closer, his hand cupping Conall’s jaw and his thumb stroking over his chin.
“Safety?”
“With my collar, my men and enemies know you are mine. If they hurt you, they will come to regret it.” Killough clicked his fingers, and Aideen shot through the doors, her shoes squeaking on the floor. She passed him a deep red collar before she left as quickly as she came, this time not even looking at them. The crimson color of the leather was dark like blood, and it had silver studs around it. A tag hung at the front, and when Killough held it out to Conall for him to look, he noticed the words “Killough’s Pet” engraved on it. “This will be yours, pet. Only yours.”
Conall swallowed, a part deep inside of him excited by the prospect of beingowned. How fucked-up was that?
Killough unclasped it and held it open toward him. “Come, pet.”
“Fuck you.” Conall shot backward and spun on his heel, driving forward and out the door. His feet carried him toward the entrance door, but he didn’t get far. The two guards defending it moved in front of him.
