Page 65 of Mob Knight

“Wait. Did you make that offer because you believe it’s what I want?”

“Yes. You agreed to be my sub. I’d like to meet somewhere besides here. I want you to be comfortable wherever that is.”

“Besides meeting somewhere else, what do you want?”

He won’t meet my gaze, looking at my nose instead. I know the difference since I do the same thing when I’m uncomfortable.

“Cormac, you don’t want what you’re offering, so why are you?”

“It’s what we agreed to.”

“And if our agreement needs to change?”

He jerks away, lifting me off him and placing me on the chair as he stands.

“If here is all you want, or you don’t want this, then I’ll understand.”

“Stop. Cormac, you’ve put up a wall so high, I don’t even know if there is anything on the other side. Why do you assume I’m rejecting you?”

“Because I’m asking too much of you too soon.”

“You know what happens when you assume. Don’t be an ass and don’t make me into one. If being your sub is all you’re comfortable with or all you want, then I still agree to it.”

He pulls me from the seat and nearly suffocates me with how tightly he holds me.

“I don’t just want you as my sub. I shouldn’t be entering any agreement so soon after ending my previous one. But what I thought I could accept even an hour ago isn’t what I can handle now. Joey, I want this dynamic with you when we have sex. But I don’t want this to be the only thing we have. I don’t want one night a week and most of a weekend just to fuck. I want any and every night to be together. Sex isn’t my only wish.”

“Are you saying you want to date?”

He eases his hold on me and runs his hand over his face.

“I started this here, but it’s fecking awkward to discuss in a BDSM club while we’re naked.”

Fecking.

He’s adorable. He’ll say fuck when it’s an activity, but not when he needs an expletive in conversation. It’s sweet.

“Then let’s get dressed at least.”

“That’s not enough. What we need to talk about has to be done in private. I can’t risk somewhere so public.”

I mouth “mob stuff?”

He nods.

I hurry to dress, which takes me a lot less time than it does him. When we reach the door, he pauses and looks back.

“Cailín, it’s never been like that before.”

“Same.”

It was a quiet ride to his place, but we held hands the entire way. I’m in a pair of his sweatpants rolled over five times to keep me from tripping, and a sweatshirt that dwarfs me. I’ve never worn anything so comfortable in my life. He’s in a pair of black trackpants, and his ass is delectable. You could bounce a quarter off it. The pants are male lingerie.

“Let’s sit, and I’ll explain what I can.”

I doubt I’m going to like most of what I hear, but I’ll listen, nonetheless. He guides me to the sofa and waits for me to sit. He takes a spot in the corner, and I scoot closer. It’s all the hint he needs. He lifts me onto his lap and cocoons me again like he did earlier. Like he always does when he embraces me. I feel safer, and I need that right now.

“You know who I am and what I am. You need to understand I choose what I do every day, but I don’t choose who I have to be. I was born into this, and I will die in this. My family’s been in the mob for three generations on one side and four on the other. My cousin is the mob boss. Our uncle was our boss before him, and our grandfather before that, and so on and so on. Right now, I’m third in line. Dillan and Finn are both older than me, but I’m older than the other guys. Not by much, but I am.”

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