Page 29 of The Professional
Conall glanced from Killough to Rourke, and then to Forrest, before he shook his head. “I’ll still be coming back tonight, but I’d rather be here to help Sloan clean up this mess.”
“Completely understandable, sir. We’ll see you later. Come on, Forrest.” Rourke turned slightly and wrapped his arm around Forrest’s waist, urging him out from behind himself.
With a small smile to Conall, Forrest let Rourke guide him out of the front doors of the house. The soldiers managed to get the last maid into a small white van and they closed the sliding door behind her.
Forrest watched them drive around the circular driveway and out toward the road. “Do you think they’ll be okay?”
“They’ll be fine. Sloan will take care of all their health needs.” Rourke led Forrest to a sleek black Mercedes. The chauffeur opened the back door for them, and Rourke thanked the man when they slipped inside.
“Poor chef.”
“You think?” Rourke gave him a side look. “First Sloan needs to conclude it was an accident.”
“It happened in the kitchen,” Forrest said, confused. “Of course it was an accident. What else would it be?”
“A threat. A warning. Even the most basic household staff member can be convinced to do something stupid for some extra money.” Rourke reached over to the bar in the car. He pulled out a crystal bottle of whiskey and two small tumblers. Filling them both, he passed one to Forrest. “What you have to understand is that Sloan’s life is always in danger. Even men and women he thinks he can trust aren’t always honest. Everybody wants a piece of the high living. The Killough Company is worth billions and has enemies that range from the Bratva to the Triad. You saw what the Italians did. Who knows if that bastard really wasn’t working for his father when he kidnapped Conall.”
Forrest didn’t understand. He lived most of his days giving his ass up to men who wanted a piece of it, but he couldn’t imagine living day-to-day unsure of who wanted to kill you. The thought terrified him. He stared at the amber liquid in the glass and swirled it, watching the waves it made. “So Conall’s not safe either.”
Rourke took a sip of his whiskey and winced. “No.” His eyebrows dropped low. “Forrest, being in love with the boss’s pet isn’t a good idea.”
Forrest paused in surprise just as he took another drink. He lowered it again, frowning. “What?”
“I said—”
“I know what you said.” He dropped the glass on the table-like console between them. “Do you honestly believe I’m in love with Conall?”
“It’s not hard to figure out. You used to fuck, and you look at him like he’s the most important person in the world.”
“He’s my best friend!” Forrest laughed at the absurdity. “Yes, we used to fuck, and sure, I probably was half in love with him once, but Conall didn’t return my feelings. When he left, I wasn’t as devastated as I thought I would be. Then you came along and…fuck!Are you that blind and dumb, Rourke? How many times do I have to nearly hump your leg for you to get how much I want you?”
Suspicion crossed Rourke’s handsome face. “Why? So you can be top dog in the Virtue?”
Outrage flared in Forrest. He didn’t know if he wanted to punch Rourke, or get on his knees in front of him now and show him how he really felt. The latter sounded like a much better idea, so he did just that. He unbuckled his seatbelt and slid to his knees, shuffling until he kneeled between Rourke’s legs. Luckily the car resembled a tiny version of a limo, which meant he had the room. Privacy glass blocked them from the chauffeur, and for a very brief moment, Forrest wondered if it was soundproof too. He didn’t care, though. He was going to blow Rourke’s brains through his cock, right then and there.
He managed to get Rourke’s belt unbuckled before Rourke grabbed his hands. “What you doing?”
“What does it look like?” Forrest rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna suck your cock.”
Rourke opened his mouth and then sighed. He carded his fingers through Forrest’s hair, grabbing onto a chunk of it. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
Forrest grinned. Score one for him. “I won’t tell, if you don’t.”
He finished unzipping Rourke’s pants and pulled out the massive cock he had hidden there. Forrest whistled. He’d seen his fair share, and while he’d seen bigger than Rourke’s, it definitely landed on the high end of the scale in length. Thick, too, nice and juicy, and the size made Forrest’s mouth water. Uncut, just how he preferred. Not only did he love sex, he’d happily spend days giving blowjobs too.
Rourke grinned. The bastard knew what he was packing.
“Tease,” Forrest grumbled. He got a good hold on the base and sucked in the head—nice and round in his mouth. Rourke tasted like salt and precum, and it had Forrest moaning and wanting more.
Rourke’s head fell back against the headrest and he groaned.
Forrest would have smiled if he didn’t have a mouth full of dick. He unbuttoned Rourke’s pants and opened them wider, but he still couldn’t get a hold on Rourke’s balls. “These need to come down,” he ordered, tugging on the waistband.
Rourke lifted his hips, and Forrest pulled the pants and underwear down to his knees.
“Better,” he mumbled, before taking the cock into his mouth again. He sucked and licked, tracing the veins and lapping at the slit. He tugged on Rourke’s balls gently, massaging them in his palm. His skills were put to good use, and it didn’t take Rourke long before his groans grew louder. Forrest had imagined for months how Rourke would moan while he sucked his cock, but it sounded better than anything he could have dreamed up.
“Fuck, Forrest.” His deep voice sent shivers down Forrest’s spine, and he cupped himself through his jeans.
