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“Let’s start with you bending on the desk and taking my cock. Your performance will decide if you need to know further details.”
He tsks. “I did say you could have your wicked way with me.”
He gives me a long, slow grind of his hips that is so damn good, it makes me wonder if a ride on my cock sounds better.
“Very wicked.”
Smirking confidently, he stands up and starts undoing his jeans. Fuck, I like this self-assured side of him.
When he bends down to take off his shoes, I hook my hands behind my head and relax in the chair.
Chapter 14
MICHAEL
The sound of Raph’s deep, reverberating grunts as he came in his office a few hours back plays on repeat in my mind, leaving me with a throbbing dick and a sore ass as we walk toward the fancy restaurant from the parking lot. With every kiss, bite, and sensual thrust, he claimed another piece of me. Soon, there’ll be nothing left. I’ll be utterly and hopelessly his.
I glance at him. He looks so damn hot wearing a black Henley, the buttons open, showing his smooth skin. A few chest hairs are peeking out as well; they make me want to slide under the fabric and rub myself all over him. A pair of tight, worn grey jeans wrap his solid legs like a second skin and his muscular arms are covered by a brown leather jacket—he owns at least twenty and treats them like his babies.
Tonight, his ass looks illegal. My boyfriend is head-turning-sexy, and it’s not because of what he’s wearing. He just oozes seductively commanding vibes that are urging me to drag him back to the car and ride him like there’s no tomorrow, just to remind him who he belongs to. It looks like that caveman shit is rubbing off on me.
To distract myself from my dirty thoughts, I push my mind to the phone call we received from Rami earlier. He told us that he found a connection between the gun used in the attempted robbery at the convenience store and one of my deceased patients. Mr. Coleman, the elderly man who died at Grand View more than a week ago.
The gun was reported stolen by Ms. Scalini. She told the police that she always kept it in her bag when she went to work, for protection. She works for a cleaning company, and one of the three houses she’s a maid in is Mr. Coleman’s. It can't be a coincidence since Mr. Coleman’s personal effects are still inside the vault. The same vault they tried to open when they trashed the morgue.
Mr. Coleman’s only son and next of kin is still out of the country. Rami said he'll check the rest of the family, to see if there’s something amiss… or someone.
He also told us that Serena identified a guy wearing the same coat and ball cap on the hospital security footage from a week ago. He walked to the reception desk and talked to the nurse there for a minute and then left, looking all bothered. It’s useless to ask the nurse if she remembers him; the ones working at the reception desk see too many people every day to remember.
The bright smile the restaurant attendant aims at the people in front of us brings me back to my date. An odd little thrill passes through me, nervous energy and excitement twisting in my gut. Can’t even remember the last time I had a real date. College, perhaps? Does exchanging a few words, a rum & coke in a paper cup at a party, and then fucking in an empty room count as a date? Don’t think so.
But now I’m in a posh restaurant. With my boyfriend. Who’s hot as hell and accepts me completely. Can’t help feeling giddy about it.
To distract myself, I look at the dark red walls of the restaurant foyer. The gaudy, tall, gold flowers in the crystal vase, the honey velvet chairs, and sparkly chandeliers all scream money to me. Even the young attendant, with her perfectly styled blond hair, red lips, and paillette dress with a plunging neckline exudes elegance and wealth.
She moves away with the other patrons and another attendant comes to take her place. A tall, TV-handsome, stylish guy who slides an obvious, leering look at Raph’s body.
“Welcome to Micron 4. How can I be of assistance?” he suggestively asks, smiling invitingly at Raph.
My boyfriend gives the guy one of his perfect, megawatt smiles, still holding my hand. “Reservation under Bear-Stone, for two.”
I see the glint of recognition in the attendant’s eyes. They turn to dollar signs, like one of those WB cartoons. And his demeanor becomes even more flirtatious. “Mr. Bear-Stone, I personally prepared the best table in the room for you.”
I snort derisively, but I’ll never believe that Project Runaway did it all by himself. Not with the sparkly nail polish and snobbish attitude. He finally gives me a quick glance. But dismisses me as speedily as I do the cereal aisle at the supermarket. Really? I thought I looked quite good in my new light blue Armani shirt and black slacks.
“Please, follow me,” he whispers, leaning toward Raph.
He turns toward the dining room, and Raph gestures for me to go first. Raising an annoyed eyebrow at my boyfriend, I grit my teeth, but start walking. Raph tugs my hand, probably wanting to know what’s going on. But this time, I tug back and keep going. We walk across the room, leaving the bar and some already occupied tables behind.
People around us smile or wave at Raph. I can’tnotnotice the way the attendant slowly and deliberately swings his hips, probably trying to catch my boyfriend’s eye. I don’t turn around to see if Raph actually peeked, because my mood has already dangerously plummeted. I want to strangle him, while I’m still fucking looking at that bouncy ass with images in my head of breaking it with my foot. A bitter taste invades my mouth; I think it’s bile, trying to choke me.
We finally reach a red leather booth. Raph sits first. When I try to go on the other side—where the attendant isoh-so-helpfullygesturing for me to move to—Raph pulls on my hand so hard I lose my balance and fall half on his lap, taking some of the tablecloth with me. A gasp leaves my lips at the clinking of glasses and clanging of silverware.
“No need to take all the table with you, babe, you know I always want you next to me.” Raph smirks at me.
My glare would have fucking incinerated him if Jedi were real and I was the long-lost son of one. So, I opt for raising my knee and stomping on his foot under the table. It doesn’t do anything to faze his laid-back expression and makes me even more annoyed. Stupid sturdy Italian leather boots.
The attendant’s giggle sounds fake, and I hate it. I hate even more how Raph seems used to it all. Too pissed to keep listening, I tune him and my soon-to-be-very-dead boyfriend out. Does Raph let people flirt with him like this normally? Psychopaths do use their appeal to attract others, to ultimately get what they want. And Gabe said Raph is a playboy. Which means he’s not only accustomed to people being all over him, but he’s into it.
