* * *
Fuck the desk.
Qhuinn wasn’t going to waste time going around it; he went over the bitch, jumping up and pushing off into the air. He covered the five feet between where he had been and where he needed to be in one stride, and he managed to out his arousal on the way.
Blay was arched and looking over his shoulder, and he knew what was going to hit him: He grabbed on to the corners of the table and braced himself, his shoulder muscles flexing up, the ones that fanned out along his spine rippling under his smooth skin.
Spitting into his hand, Qhuinn did a pass on his erection, and then he went in, going deep. Beneath him, Blay’s head rose up and he called out, the desperate sound making every inch of Qhuinn’s skin prickle with awareness—except then his hearing was lost as the sensation of constriction and heat overrode everything.
The movement was instinctual and compulsive, the pumping rhythm stronger than he wanted it to be. There was no stopping it, though—
“Harder,” Blay groaned. “Hard-er…”
Qhuinn gripped the tight waist over Blay’s hip bones and sank his fingers into the taut flesh. “How much harder,” he grunted.
Blay’s arms butterflied as he held himself against the onslaught, the front of Qhuinn’s pelvis slapping into the back of that spectacular ass, the climax coming so soon—not that there was a reason to fight it—
The orgasm tackled Qhuinn from behind, shoving his torso over Blay’s back, his hips jerking and locking into place. The ejaculations were sharp points of pleasure, so acute they were sweetly painful.
And he didn’t stop. Reaching around, he pushed Blay’s hand out of the way and took over the stroking as he kept pumping, countering the forward penetration with the pull down on the shaft, the retraction of his cock with the palm moving out to the head. It required coordination.
But he’d had so much practice, hadn’t he.
Blay came next, hot jets covering Qhuinn’s hand and palm, everything slicking up. In both places. There was no stopping either of them, and Qhuinn loved being on this erotic plane with his male, the two of them riding the waves of pleasure, the intensity of the experience uniting them.
Until Qhuinn pulled out. And rolled his mate over.
Usually, Blay was an elegant, lithe mover. Not right now. He landed face-up in a boneless flop, his blue eyes glassy, his mouth parted in a pant, his color high from the exertion. Grabbing one of his mate’s thighs, Qhuinn curled up the knee and angled himself back in.
&
nbsp; This time, he went slow.
“Look at me, Blay,” he whispered.
When those beautiful peepers managed to focus, Qhuinn brought his glossy hand to his mouth. One by one, he licked his fingers, drawing them in, savoring them, extending his tongue and running it up his palm.
Blay moaned and came hard, ejaculating all over his own abdominals.
Which gave a male something to clean up, didn’t it.
But that was going to have to wait while he—
“Oh, God,” Qhuinn grunted as he found another release of his own, his head falling back, his eyes squeezing shut, his body doing what it did best.
Which was showing his true love exactly what the male meant to him, and how beautiful Blay was.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Daddy?”
As Z opened the door to his bedroom suite, the little voice brought a smile to his face, even though the night had been full of things that were far from happy. Yes, Balz had survived. And yes, the house had been patched up. But for so many reasons, Z’s soul was tossed and turned, an ocean that was raging.
And yet that one word, spoken in that voice?
Zsadist lowered himself down to his knees, even though he wasn’t yet over the threshold of his family’s private space. Suddenly, though, he didn’t care who might see him in this moment when he was so vulnerable.
Besides, he knew nothing else but what was coming across the antique rug at him.