Page 71 of Spies Like Us

“Looks like the older boy has a temper.”

“I would gladly let him boss me around if he would put his hands around my throat.”

“Wonder what their dad’s constituents would say if they could see them now.”

“Come on, I want to lick your cock and find out what my brother’s plaything tastes like.” Ry smirks at Max as he drags Miller out of the cage and in the direction of the playrooms.

“On your knees.” The icy voice has my gaze returning to the man who still has his hands wrapped around my throat. He eases his grip slightly, slipping his hand down to my shoulder and pushing.

I don’t fight him. The drugs are still rolling through my system, and I am a sweaty, needy mess. I will obey anything he says if it gets me what I want. He runs a hand over my sweat dampened hair, pushing it back off my face.

“Well, I must say, having you at my feet with tears staining your face is so much more satisfying than I expected,” he growls loudly for everyone to hear, playing the consummate showman. I have no doubt the dominant stuff is real. My eyes are at crotch level, and I can see his dick is hard behind his suit pants.

“Eyes on me,” he snaps, and I look up at him. He reaches into his pocket and pulls something out, stepping behind me. I feel him wrap something around my neck before he fastens a buckle in the back. When he steps in front of me again, he’s holding something in his hand. He gives it a little tug, and I feel it on my neck. Holy crap, he put a collar on me. My rational mind tells me I should be horrified, but my slutty, drug-induced happy mind is preening with joy. My pussy gushes, and if I wasn’t spacey, I’d be mortified that I can feel my desire leaking down the inside of my thigh. If he waits too long, it’s going to drip onto the floor of the cage.

“Come.” He reaches for my elbow and hauls me to my feet before moving out of the cage, taking me with him. He strides, leash in hand, across the room, with me trailing obediently behind him until he gets to a free section of the bar that has a reserved sign on it. Anders comes over and removes the sign, and Max pats the bar top. “Up,” he commands, and I just blink at him stupidly.

“Huh?”

He tuts. “Oh, and I did have high hopes for you. I’ll try again. Hop up on the bar,” he says slowly, and I look at it, not quite sure how to get up there. He sighs and puts his hands on my waist, boosting me up there and manhandling me until he has me stretched out along the length. My drug-addled brain is slow to catch up, and when it does, Anders has placed a shot of tequila between my breasts, then he taps my chin so I will take a piece of lime in my mouth. I’m just wondering where the salt is going to go when he holds the shaker over my damp, swollen clit and sprinkles it. I brace myself for the pain, but it doesn’t actually hurt. I guess it’s not a raw, open wound.

Max and Anders are chatting benignly. “Ry couldn’t wait to get his hands on that foster kid. He said they’ve been dancing around since he enrolled at school. He wants to own his ass tonight.”

“Hopefully he won’t be so fucking grumpy anymore.” They are completely ignoring me. People come and go at the bar, and I feel the urge to squirm. I feel like I have fire ants under my skin, but I instinctively know if I knock over his shot, I will be punished. I have my eyes locked on a spot on the ceiling above me, because even moving my head will cause the shot between my breasts to wobble.

I feel a hand brush over my forehead, pushing my hair back off my face. “Such a good girl,” he croons. “Get me a bourbon, will you, Anders? Neat.”

“Ah, Max, I just wanted to give my condolences on the loss of your friend. Such a tragic thing, drowning. I hope his family finds peace now that they know what happened to him.” I recognize Father Sweeny’s voice, but of course I can’t move.

“Thank you. It was a tragedy, and we’re still in shock. Tonight will help take our minds off it,” Max replies.

“Well, I’m not surprised. That looks like a delightful way to drink tequila. Maybe once you’re done with her, we can all have a turn.”

Fucking hell, the men of this town are nasty. I’m almost certain they are all going to come to a sticky end, and not the fun kind—the kind that’s red and gray and splattered over something.

I hear Max rumble his answer. “I very much doubt I’ll be done with her for a while. If tonight goes well, I plan to negotiate exclusive rights to this one and the one my brother likes.”

“Oh, I thought you two were hot and heavy with the Standish girls,” Father Sweeny remarks, and Max scoffs.

“Stella and Sophie will be perfect politicians’ wives, but I doubt their tastes are the same as mine and Ry’s.”

“No, you’re probably right. It’s why this place is so popular. Thank goodness none of our wives know about it.”

I smother the snort of laughter that wants to escape and concentrate on staying very still. The lime between my lips is making my mouth pucker with the sourness, and it’s slightly numb. Men are fucking clueless. I would bet every last dollar of both my grandparents’ fortunes that they know all about this place and are relieved their husbands’ needs are being addressed by someone else.

Anders passes Max his bourbon, and he throws it back. “Yes, and that’s how I plan to keep it. I may be looking into buying some property soon. Of course, I won’t be able to keep either of them in my father’s home, but somewhere close by would be convenient. Let me know if anyone in the congregation has a small apartment on the market.”

“Of course. Us men need to stick together,” Father Sweeny replies, and I feel Max stand up from his bar stool.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve wasted enough time. I want to play with my purchase.”

Chapter 32

MAX

With that comment, I lean over and lick a path over her clit, claiming the salt. I smirk as she jolts with surprise, and the tequila flows down her body like a waterfall. I use my tongue to drink it all up, trying to catch every single drop of the spicy liquid, then I lean forward and snatch the lime with my mouth, sucking it before spitting it to the side and taking Mac’s mouth with mine. I plunder its depths in a punishing kiss, and she returns the kiss with the same kind of fervor, her tight body squirming on the countertop. Our kiss is tangy, salty, and tart from the things I just consumed, and I can’t help my smile as she moans and mewls into my mouth, lifting her hands to reach for me. I pull away and slap one of them. She yelps and snatches them away, pouting adorably.

“Ah, Max, looks like you’re having a good time. Would you like a line of coke? On the house, of course,” Matthew says behind us, and a wave of irritation washes over me. This man is fucking annoying. Why can’t he fuck off and bug other people? I turn around and chuckle like a good old boy.

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