Page 4 of PortCity Killers

This time when his eyes flashed, he cut me a look. It wasn’t one of pleasure and heat but a cold recapping of every warning he had ever thrown my way concerning Jaymes.

We never reallyfoughtabout anything. Snide jabs and snarking always settled our differences, and when it didn’t, fucking out our feelings was enough.

When it came to Jaymes though, that particular sore spot was the kryptonite to our otherwise orgasmic arrangement.

He jut his chin to the side of the building to the sliver of boardwalk between the docks. I followed him as he kicked off the edge of the building, stalking through the narrow passageway, his tall frame hulking in the growing dark.

Baby hairs peeked out of his bun, and I imagined sinking my hands into him and tugging as he buried himself inside of me, but by the looks of things,

I would be lucky to leave with my dignity intact, let alone touching him like that. When he felt we were far enough from prying ears he faced me.

“What did he do?”

“It’s bad, Bryce.” I shrugged, “As in I don’t know how to deal bad.”

He cursed, “Of course it fucking is, of fucking course. I told you that kid was going to get you killed-”

“It wasn’t just him.”

“Don’t defend him. That’s all you ever do,” he scoffed, a disgusted look on his face.

“What do you want me to do?” I said, throwing my hands up. “He’s my fucking brother.”

“And if he knew what was good for him, he would be grateful for all the shit you’ve done for him so far.” he growled, his finger piercing into my chest, “The world doesn’t owe him anything, Lex, and neither do you.”

I shook my head.

My hands grabbed at his large one, wanting—no,needing—the heated flare of his touch now that he had settled it on me. “It isn’t that easy, Bryce.”

He didn’t move away from me, which made my heart flutter, but his expression was unchanged. He still looked like he was going to rip my head off.

I took a step into him, winding my hands up his wrist, not wanting to let go for a minute lest he push me away and come to his senses.

He didn’t though, not even as I linked our fingers together. He didn’t stop me as I ran one of my hands from his chest to his neck, pulling his forehead to mine.

Bryce wouldn’t normally touch me in public, always paranoid that someone would find our connection and take it out on me, but sometimes he allowed me small favors like this one; times when he didn’t have it in him to push me away.

I clung to that and to him now.

“He got involved with a shooting,” I whispered, staring into his crystal blue eyes. He stiffened, but didn’t move, “I guess some guys were skimming off the top from Valentina and he-”

He shook his head with a curse and began to pull away from me, but I gripped him harder. He could have broken away from me, I knew that.

A man as large as him couldn’t be stopped by someone who spent their days bussing tables and running drugs to small timers through a rundown bar. I didn’t speak, only waited for him to tell me when to start back up again.

Bryce was a cop through and through. It didn’t matter how long since he’d stepped away from the force or how far he’d strayed from his oath, which neither of us put much stock in anyway.

He would hear me out even if it was just to have the information. Even so, he always seemed to have a soft spot for me, and I was selfishly calling on that vein of protection, hoping against all hope that he would give into it.

“Tell me,” He muttered as he took my wrists in his hands, pulling me further into the passage.

The smell of brine and seaweed got stronger the further back we went until we were in the deepest corner. I could look over and see the ocean beneath us, the waves lapping softly against the underside of the dock.

The last time we’d been here I had been on my knees, Bryce’s thick cock in my mouth, fucking my face, cum and spit falling from my lips. The look on his face said he was thinking the same exact thing.

“Talk.” His voice was gruff in the same way it was whenever he tracked my tongue running down his shaft.

His body caged mine. He didn’t stop holding my wrists, and I let him hold them. His thick fingers felt even more calloused, even bigger than I remembered, but maybe it had just been too long.

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