Page 101 of Himbo Hitman
“We need to take shifts in staying awake.”
“Good idea. You take first shift while St. Clare and I sleep, then wake me in a few hours.”
Lars looks like he wants to argue but swallows it all back. “Great plan.” There’s something in his voice that doesn’t sound so great, but I ignore it, too busy calculating how I’m supposed to get up without thrusting my hard-on into everyone’s faces.
Maybe if I shimmy to the edge of the sofa, then do a full one-eighty as I turn?
“Leave your clothes out, and I’ll throw them in the wash with ours,” he says.
“That’s actually … nice of you.”
Finally, I get the smallest genuine twitch of Lars’s lips. “I promise you I’m being completely selfish in not wanting to smellthatfor days on end.”
“Works for me.” I shrug. “I don’t want to smell this either.”
St. Clare extends both arms along the back of the sofa. “Guess I’m in the minority in not minding the way you smell.”
Heat floods from my gut to my face. “Noted.”
Lars sighs. “Maybe I should take that walk after all.”
“Maybe you should.” I have to choke out the words because while it’s weird that he knows there’s something going on between us, it’d also be weirder for him to not pick up on all this sexual tension. And if confirming it will get him out of here and St. Clare into the shower with me, even better.
“I’ll come with you,” St. Clare says to Lars, and my jaw almost hits my balls it drops so fast.
“Ah, what?”
“Yeah …” Lars narrows his eyes. “What?”
“It’s a nice sunset, and it’ll be too cold to go outside soon. A walk sounds great.”
I can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. Doesn’t he get what’s happening here? Lars is offering toleaveso we can hook up. They do that wordless staring thing again, and still, St. Claredoesn’t get the message that Lars is putting out, which is a goddamn worry, considering I’m reading him loud and clear.
All six feet of St. Clare’s lightly muscled, domineering, slutty-forearmed self stands and looks down at me. His gaze slides over me like a hot coffee slipping down my throat, and my nipples prick harder at the attention.
He knows what he’s doing. He knows he’s leaving me desperate. And maybe this is repayment for me stupidly declaring Arlie the love of my life, and maybe I should hate it, but the whole thing only makes my cock harder.
I’m ready to whimper like a fucking dog at his feet as St. Clare’s eyes fill with that secret amusement before I’m left to watch them walk out the door.
Lars disappears first, and just as St. Clare is about to close the front door behind him, he pauses, half inside, and turns his head so I can make out his profile.
The way his lips move has me mesmerized, and it’s a second before I register what he’s saying.
“I dare you not to touch yourself while you shower.”
The confidence in his tone has me swallowing hard.
Then something lights up behind his eyes that makes me shiver. “I might even reward you if you don’t.”
Thankfully, he walks right out and doesn’t hear thehelpthat bubbles from my lips. How the fuck am I supposed to not touch myself now? I’m half tempted to storm outside and drag him back in here to have his filthy way with me. He’s not playing fair, and we both know it, but the realfuck memoment comes when I realize that I don’t hate it.
It’s torture, but I think I’m sort of enjoying it.
I cheat in the shower, just a little bit. While I’m scrubbing every filthy inch of me I can reach and keeping my fucked-up shoulder dry, I’m also angling my still-too-hard and too-needy dick right under the water flow. It’s as bad as his sinful mouth, though, because it keeps me right on that edge of pleasure without giving me any of the payoff. I can’t come like this, and all I’m doing is furthering St. Clare’s mean, evil, downright maniacal plan.
He doesn’t need to make me want him even more.
I already want him most.
