Page 19 of Agony

It was pissing him off that Justice felt obligated to interfere in his fucking business.

He shrugged off the man’s touch, but that didn’t stop Justice from moving off the bed and crouching down naked next to him. Warm hands rested on his thighs and Fisher just knew those all-too-seeing blue eyes were on him.

He didn’t look for long though. He was not going to fall into that piercing gaze. If he did, then he’d start feeling all kinds of shit he wasn’t ready for.

The sex was good, but the probing that came with the connection sucked ass.

He’d decided over the past week that he was going to keep things casual between them. Now he just needed to convince Justice.

The fucked-up part was that they were really good when on the road doing jobs. Things stayed light and easy.

Now, Justice had started asking questions about his past. All of them innocent, but the more Justice asked, the more Fisher didn’t want to answer.

Things were quickly going to hell.

He wanted to run, but the hand smoothing down his back kept him still.

Justice used tactics on him that even now sent shivers down his spine.

The bed lay in shambles in the immaculate master bedroom.

Justice’s home was nicer than anything Fisher had ever been inside in his life except for a few. And he’d certainly never before fucked on every surface inside of one like he had.

“It’s nothing.” He wiped at his mouth and kept his eyes averted.

“Hey,” Justice murmured.

Fuck. That voice warmed over him like honey pouring over rocks and his cock twitched. When those rough palms slipped further up his bare thighs, Fisher parted his legs for his surging dick.

They had this at least. If he could get Justice off of the questions and back to business, they’d be golden.

Justice eased open his legs and moved between them and Fisher made a sound in his throat that he wasn’t proud of.

How the hell had he gotten here?

And why this man of all people?

What was so special about the former Special Forces medic that had him breaking all his hard-won rules? Especially the one that kept saying don’t fucking get involved.

He had to draw the line.

But wasn’t Justice different?

A shudder moved up his spine when Justice placed a hand beneath one of his thighs and an arm around his back. In one smooth, powerful motion, he was lifted and settled onto the expensive bedding and Justice was hovering above him.

When Justice aimed his already hard cock at his well-used ass, Fisher moaned and wrapped his arms around the man’s thick neck. Their size difference was great. Justice was built like a tank. It made the sex all the hotter.

For him, the pain and possession kept him from thinking.

That was a big plus.

Justice groaned and shoved farther inside, not bothering to lube up because he was already greased.

“Fuuuuck.” Fisher pressed his head into the bed, his neck arching, hands grasping over rippling shoulders and bulging biceps. With a hitching breath, Fisher took every inch of the man’s long, thick cock.

Impaled was a word he was quickly becoming fond of and when Justice lifted one of his thighs and moved, Fisher held on tight. Pistoned into over and over, his cock stayed leaking between them. When he reached a hand down, Justice grabbed his wrist and pulled it up along with the other and caged them above his head.

Panting, he glared into hunger-filled eyes and when Justice snapped his hips with smooth, controlled thrusts, Fisher gasped, baring his teeth.

---