Page 52 of Honorable Convictions
“Oh, sorry I’m late with dinner. It’s ready now.”
Concerned that Pierson wasn’t himself, Mitchell studied his face, but it was difficult since his mate was moving rapidly to plate up their supper. “Are you okay?”
“Hmm? Oh yeah, fine,” Pierson answered, and sauntered to the dining area with their dishes.
Snagging the bottle of wine, Mitchell followed him and poured some into their glasses before taking his seat. “How was your day?”
To Mitchell’s surprise, Pierson’s cheeks went pink, and he gave an inordinate amount of attention to loading up his fork with food. “Good.”
“You had Detroit this morning and Denver this afternoon, right?”
“Denver had to reschedule. A bunch of their fallen knights were called out on a case, and their supervisor didn’t want them to miss the training.”
“This pasta is incredible. Were you able to move someone else into their time slot?”
“Thanks, I’m glad you like it. To find a better balance between life and work, I chose to take the afternoon off.”
If his voice hadn’t sounded so weird, Mitchell would’ve been thrilled for him. “So, what did you do with your afternoon?”
“Not much, how was your day?”
“Busy. I’m starting to dread our daily meetings. I can barely keep my head above water as it is.”
When their eyes met, Pierson’s were pained. “And I’ve been sitting around feeling sorry for myself because I have zero cases. I don’t know how the liaison position is going to sustain me for the next couple of weeks, let alone months.”
“Pierce, come to Vegas. You can work on cases and handle the liaison position.”
Frustration swept through Mitchell at Pierson’s predicable head shake. “I told you, I can’t. I’m the one who asked to be transferred. Although I would’ve liked it to be permanent, it’s for a year. I can’t very well turn around and decide I want it different because it’s not turning out the way I wanted.”
“Of course you can. The goal here is to make sure you’re happy. You’re going to go crazy without casework.”
“I was glad I had the afternoon off.”
Baffled by the subject change, Mitchell went with the flow. “Why is that?”
Pierson picked up his goblet and downed the entire contents of it. “Because since we started having sex, I haven’t had the opportunity to use my dildo. I remedied that this afternoon.”
Mitchell choked on his bite of food and beat on his chest to dislodge it. His eyes watered as he struggled to breathe. Hopping to his feet, Pierson whacked his back, and Mitchell concentrated on getting oxygen into his deprived lungs.
“Are you okay?” Pierson asked with concern dripping from his voice.
“Fine,” Mitchell croaked out and grabbed his wine. Guzzling it as his mate returned to his chair and studied him, Mitchell was warmed by the caring in his gaze, and he tried not to visualize how Pierson spent his afternoon. The temptation of it was too great, though, and Mitchell’s helpful brain supplied all kinds of sexy images.
“Are you sure?”
“Did you spend the entire afternoon with your dildo?” Mitchell demanded.
“No, I…well, I used it once. I’m stretched out now though in case you wanted to…?”
“In case I wanted to what?”
“Make me come that way. Like the dildo.”
“Blondie, I’m not going to be a stand-in for your toy,” Mitchell groused, growing hard despite his aversion to being used. If Pierson wanted to do something more intimate with him—and Fate help him, he hoped so—it needed to be special, not just to alleviate his horniness.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Pierson replied softly. “We’ve had sex a number of times, but you’ve never expressed any interest in doing anything but getting off with friction.”
“I wasn’t sure you were ready for a conversation about expectations in the bedroom.”
