Page 11 of His Enforcer

I’d drool for it. And it makes me hate him even more.

“I’m fucking serious, Luca. Stop it.”

He does it again and my hands grip the steering wheel so tightly it squeaks.

“Why does it bother you so much?” he asks, a glint in his eyes. “You thinking about me sucking your whore dick?”

That makes my cock perk up even further.

“Fuck no.”

He chuckles lowly and then leans back, adjusting himself as his tongue swipes out once more. It’s too much.

Especially when he adds, “Not that you’re my type. Since you’re a man and all.”

I let out a low growl and swerve onto the shoulder of the road. Istop so suddenly his ice cream rolls from the cone and onto his pants with an audiblesplat.

He stares at it and then up at me.

“What the fuck? Throwing a tantrum? Who’s the child now?” he asks, and I unlock the doors.

“Get the fuck out and walk home.”

“No.”

“Get the fuck out.”

His jaw clicks and then suddenly his hand is in my hair, his fingers tugging on the strands tightly. “Not until you clean up the mess you made,” he growls, wrenching my head down to his lap, that scoop of ice cream right there in front of my nose.

I bite back a groan as he pushes my head roughly toward it, smearing it across my cheeks in the process.

“Lick. It. Up. You little bitch.”

I try to wrench my head back, one last sliver of dignity before I cave, but he holds me down rougher, a shock of pain moving through my scalp.

“Don’t make me do something I won’t regret.”

I grunt and struggle, but he’s stronger than me, holding me against his lap. My mouth reluctantly pops open, and I lap at the cold ice cream sitting against my lips. My eyes squeeze shut as the sweet taste of vanilla and almond hits my tongue. And even though I know this is nothing like it, my body can’t help but pretend it’s his cock.

“Good. Fucking take it,” he grumbles.

He presses me further into it, smashing my face into his groin and my own cock lurches in my pants.

“Every fucking drop. All of it,” he says lowly, holding me to him. And my tongue laps at his pants, devouring it. The angle I’m at currently is making my back twinge, but I know he won’t let me up until he’s gotten what he wants. He always gets what he wants.

He pushes me into him, my nose smashed up against his bulge. I inhale, the scent of vanilla and something masculine, feral.

Fuck, I feel my balls draw up in my pants.

Shit. No.No.

“Hm, such a little slut. Listen to you moan. I fucking love that sound,” he murmurs, and his words alone have me unloading right into my pants. Shame washes over me as I tremble deliriously, my moans resounding through the cab. And when I’m finally done, his fingers loosen and he shoves me away.

“Good boy,” he says with a small, victorious grin.

I sit up and swipe at my sticky face, my cheeks on fire.

“Now do your job and bring me back to the Costello’s. I have to debrief with Anthony.”

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