Page 49 of Breaking the Code

“Mo ghille, yer askin’ fo’ trouble,” I warn him in a deep, thick brogue.

The thought o’ this boy calling me Daddy has my soul singing. It is what Simon and I wanted and searched for before our world became laser-focused on avenging my family. We’d lost sight o’ it after that, but the need for it had always been there between us.

“And what if trouble is what I want?” he asks.

I stare into his eyes for a second before my gaze drops to his mouth. When his tongue peeks out, swiping across his full, pink lower lip, leaving it shiny and wet, I growl low in my throat as my balls draw up and my cock jumps at the sight.

My mouth crashes into his. I’m done fighting myself. If he wants me, he’s going to get me. I only hope he’s prepared. I’m nae a gentle man.

His mouth opens under the assault o’ mine. His tongue meets mine in a frenzy. I cannae stop myself from ravaging him, fucking his mouth with my tongue. He sucks on it, massaging my tongue with his.

As I lose myself in the kiss, he climbs me like a tree. Arms twine around my neck, hoisting himself up so his legs can wrap around my waist. His lithe little body feels like perfection in the way it fits against mine.

I’ve nae been with anyone since Simon died. Nae even myself. I’ve been hellbent on vengeance for him and my family. Then, when I killed Graeme, and realized Maeve was still alive, finding her took the place o’ avenging my parents and grandparents. It’s been my sole focus.

I pull us away from the wall. Peeling him from me, I toss him on the bed. As I watch him bounce, I yank my shirt over my head and toss it away. His eyes widen as they travel down my chest.

Another swipe o’ his tongue across his lips has me clenching my teeth to keep from pouncing on him. Sexual desire has been so absent from my life for so long that I refuse to fall on the boy like a sex-crazed fiend.

My hands drop to the belt at my waist, but before I can open it, Tavish scrambles to his knees before me. His hands hover over mine as he peers up at me through that forest o’ dark lashes.

“Please?” he pleads.

The sound should’ve been drowned out by the music, but that, along with everything else, falls away. Receding into the background, leaving just the two o’ us.

I drop my hands and nod. His face lights up like I’ve given him the best gift ever and in that moment, I ken two things.

I will spend forever trying to put that look on his face.

And I will fight to the death to keep him, but it won’t matter because I’ll lose him when he finds out I’m ultimately responsible for every mark he carries on his body.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

TAVISH

When his hands fall away from his belt and he nods, every awful thing that’s ever happened to me is suddenly no more. It’s all been replaced by the promise of what Draven has given me.

I work the thick black belt through the buckle. The smell of it fills my nose and the soft, supple leather bites gently into my palm as I pull it from his pants. Visions of being spanked with the well-worn belt have me pulsing. My cock jumps over the lace and satin manties I purchased on a whim. They’re pushing it up, putting me on display.

I look up at him for permission before opening his pants. His icy blue eyes stare down at me. Desire has them dancing like blue flames. The heat in them licks me and sets my already needy body on fire.

“Open my pants and take out my cock, lilla du. I wanna see it in your hands.”

I gasp as a wave of lust washes over me, leaving me thankful I’m kneeling on the bed. Not wanting to disappoint the man, I do as told. Unbuttoning and unzipping his black tactical pants proves difficult, but soon I’m peeling the fly apart, surprised he’s not wearing underwear.

I push his pants down and his erection pops out as if on a spring. The hard, girthy length bounces in front of my face.

Holy shitballs! He’s fucking enormous.

My mouth waters at the sight of him. I hate giving blow jobs, but this cock has me wanting to taste it, suck it, swallow it whole until it gags me.

“Lick it.”

My eyes soar up his body. His hands are on his hips, his knuckles are white, like he’s squeezing his sides. Fine blond hair covers his sculpted abs and massive chest. His eyes blaze down at me.

Unable to deny his order or my lust, my mouth opens and I lean toward him. My tongue laps at the tip while I stare up at him. The salty taste dances over my tongue and, like Draven himself, it makes me needy and wanty. I have to have more, but I pull away. Hesitant to move forward anymore, because he’s the one in charge.

“Good boy, lilla du.”

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