Page 87 of The Silencer

“Please,” he moans, and I lower him just enough to see his drooling cock.

I arch his hips up toward me and lick a stripe up the underside of his dick, making his head fall to the side, his chest heaving.

“Oh my god,” he whispers as I do it again, sucking on his tip and letting myself taste a man for the first time.

Of course, it’s perfect.

My obsession grows, blooming into something dangerous.

And yet still, I’m here, my mouth around his cock, not fucking him but torturing him.

Perhaps this is more pleasing than cutting out tongues and lopping off fingers.

Yeah, it definitely is.

I’d much rather be eating his ass and listening to him moan.

My mouth pops off his dick and I hold him there, half suspended in the air, watching as his eyelids blink open.

“Anthony?” he asks, almost delirious.

Slowly, I place his ass on the floor, his legs still sprawled out beside me.

I shrug off my coat with shaking fingers and set it near him.

“I’ll meet you in my bedroom,” I tell him, wondering for a moment if I’m making a mistake. But then I see that glint in his eye, and I bite back a smile.

He’s starting to get mad, flustered. He didn’t think I’d actually leave him hard and wanting.

Good, let him be upset.

I have things I want him to learn.

Tatum walks in wearing only my jacket and a frown on his face, those long legs eating up the space between us.

“You took my clothes, you asshole.”

I pull my glasses down my nose slightly and arch an eyebrow at him. I’m sitting up in bed, my bare legs settled on top of the comforter, clad in only my boxer briefs.

“Seems you were just fine. That jacket covers enough of you.”

He huffs and waves his hand around his face. “You…take those glasses off this instant. You’re far too sexy wearing them.”

I don’t listen, just push them back up my nose and force my gaze back to my phone.

I’m not actually working. I’ve just been waiting for him to return. And he has. Looking positively wrecked. But I don’t want him to know that. I want him to be even more flustered.

He huffs and then pulls the jacket tighter around him.

“I’ll just go sleep with Angel…”

My eyes flash to meet his. “Get your ass in bed,” I bite out. His cheeks redden, and I see that bit of willpower start to revolt. It wants out. He wants to disobey.

But then suddenly, the jacket falls from his shoulders and he walks to my bed. His cock is still hard, and I can see the red marks on his hips from where I grasped him while I feasted. The thought of how he tasted makes that switch start to flip again as he slips beneath the covers, turning his back to me. He lets out a long huff and then does it again, like a petulant child.

I bite back a smile as I set my phone down on the end table, my glasses beside it, then I turn off the light and lay my head on the pillow.

Tatum grumbles and then punches his pillow, shifting wildly under the sheets. He’s mad. I left him unfinished, left him hard and aching in that treehouse, making him walk back in only my jacket.

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