Page 47 of Wicked Games

“You can keep pretending you’re asleep if you want,” he continues, his bed creaking under him as he presumably cleans himself up. “But we both know you aren’t.”

“How did you know?” I ask, my voice raspy.

“Call it brotherly intuition,” he says conversationally. “And you never answered me. Did you enjoy the show?”

I don’t answer.

He huffs out a throaty laugh. “Yeah you did. I bet you’re hard right now, aren’t you? You got off listening to your big bro jerk it. Admit it.”

“So what if I did? It sounds like you got off jerking it for me.”

“Maybe,” he says casually. “Do you know what I was thinking about?”

“What?” I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer. He’s probably going to tell me about the last girl he hooked up with or some other crazy story from his sexcapades.

“I was thinking about how much better it would be if it was your mouth around my cock and not my hand.”

He says it so casually, like he’s telling me what his favorite color is or that he needs to get an oil change for his car.

“You liked sucking my dick, didn’t you? I’m taking silence as a yes, FYI.”

I keep quiet.

He chuckles. “I bet I could have walked right up to your bed and told you to do it again, and you would have.”

Again, I don’t say anything.

“Now use your words like a good boy and tell me how much you enjoyed sucking my dick.”

“I liked it,” I scrape out.

“Tell me how much,” he prompts. “Don’t hold back. I want details.”

“It was…hot.”

He lets out another throaty laugh. “You really need to work on your dirty talk. Is that all I get? It was hot?”

“I’ve never…”

“Sucked a guy off?”

“No.”

“I figured as much. You did good. Ten out of ten, no notes.”

“Have you ever…”

Jesus, why can’t I finish a damn sentence right now?

“No.”

I want to ask him to elaborate, but I can’t get the words out. Is he saying he’s never sucked off a guy, or that he’s never hooked up with one before?

As far as I know, Killian is straight, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been having some dude-on-dude fun on the DL all these years.

“Goodnight, little brother. Sweet dreams.”

“Night,” I mumble, not sure what else to say.

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