Page 71 of Ride With Me

“Real good.” Bishop kissed him again.

“Good.” Blue licked his lips, chasing the taste of Bishop’s there. He smirked down at the cord. “Because I might want to hurt you some more later.”

“Sign me the fuck up.” Bishop waggled his eyebrows. “Consider me subscribed. Swipin’ left. Or is it right? Whatever the fuck it is people say nowadays.”

“Just say you want to fuck me again like a normal person.”

“How ’bout I think you’re sweeter than two bees humpin’ in honey on a fresh biscuit? Can I say that?”

Blue laughed. “God, no. Definitely not.”

“Well, how’s ’bout hotter than a stack of pancakes?—”

There was a knock at the door.

No, not just a knock, but an abrupt banging of someone’s fist.

Blue and Bishop snapped apart, both of them snarling and glaring at the door.

“Hey!” a man’s voice shouted. “Open up!”

“Who in the flyin’ fuck could that be?” Bishop barked.

Blue bared his teeth. “I don’t care who the fuck it is. I’m going to kill them.” He jumped out of bed to find his pants and grab his knife out of his bag. He held the knife between his teeth as he got dressed, hurrying to the door.

The rage he felt from being interrupted was overwhelming, and he wanted nothing more than to stab whoever was pounding on their door right in the face repeatedly.

Not that he cared about flirting or kissing or cuddling with Bishop.

Because he didn’t.

Maybe.

Shit.

Focus!

A peek through the peephole revealed a large man who definitely looked very pissed off.

He was wearing casual preppy clothing and appeared unarmed, but Blue remained on high alert. The man could still be a cop, either off duty or undercover, and this could all be some sort of ruse to draw Blue out.

And if not Blue, maybe Bishop.

Blue kept the chain in place and the knife out of sight as he opened the door. “What?”

“Open the damn door!” the man shouted. “I know my wife is in there, and I swear to fuck?—”

“What?” Blue asked calmly, eyeing the man’s forehead, where a vein throbbed enticingly. “You swear to fuck, what?”

Blue’s cool stare must have unnerved the man because he stammered, “I’ll fuck you both up, that’s what!”

Blue looked at the man’s throat, mentally tracing the path of his carotid artery from the corner of his square jaw down to the sternocleidomastoid articulation, the dip where the clavicles connected. Embalmers sometimes referred to it as the SCM for short, and Blue knew it was an excellent landmark for finding the exact location of that big juicy neck artery.

His teeth itched, and he tightened his grip on the knife.

Probably not a cop, not with how convincing his rage was over his apparently unfaithful spouse, but Blue couldn’t get the sound of his pulse out of his head and he desperately wanted to make it stop.

“Really?” Blue smiled. “You’re gonna fuck me up?”

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