The warm, wet friction registered in every cell of his body. Tristan threw his head back and whacked it on the wall so hard he saw stars, groaning, “Oh, princess.”
From near his groin, Colleen’s dulcet voice said, “Now talk, or I’ll stop.”
9
Mile High, Part II
Tristan
Tristan’s dick was poking out of his undone pants, and Colleen was waiting for him to speak.
And waiting.
Tristan said, “The people in the GrazBank office were from the Butorin bratva. A bratva is the Russian version of the mafia. They’re certainly pissed at me now, so they’re number one on my enemies list. I really didn’t have any other choice. I couldn’t give them that program because then they’d be invisible. They could do whatever they wanted to whomever they wanted.”
Warm wetness splayed over his cock as she lapped at him, and the sensation intensified as she ran her tongue over the head.
He kept talking. “Then there’s anyone who found out that the Butorins want that computer program from me. Or anyone who found out that the Butorins want it but don’t want them to get it. They’ll all be after me. The bratvas all have spies in each other’s organizations. A lot of people must know about it. And the Butorins must have had information about it for a while because they set up that whole GrazBank situation. That’s probably why people were shooting at me at the Phoenix airport. I didn’t even know that anyone else knew it existed back then.”
Her petal-soft lips closed over the head of his cock, and he gasped. His personality was Dominant as hell in the bedroom and out of it, but damn, he could see why some guys liked being a switch sometimes. The games, man. The games. He clenched his fists and tried to keep still, but instead, his hand ran down the back of her head and pressed, encouraging her to take him deeper into her throat.
She bobbed up. “You’re not talking.”
“So, whoever was shooting at me at the airport could be anyone.” Her hot mouth slid over his shaft again, and Tristan groaned as he spoke. “But somebody else must be after me. About six weeks ago, I got a letter. It came by courier, not post, which was weird. I took out the loan when I was twenty-two. Directly after I graduated from uni, the grandfather of a friend of mine called me up and wanted to meet with me, the same guy who rescued me after I got stuck in the blizzard in New York City when I was fifteen. Over the years, he’d taken an interest in me and his grandson and two other guys. One of them was Micah with the helicopter. But he knew that we didn’t have any money starting out. All the other kids at Le Rosey, our friends, are from wealthy families. They all have trust funds at the very least. A few of them own countries. Any of them could start any business they wanted to or just snort cocaine off models’ tits on a yacht for the rest of their lives. But the four of us couldn’t. Micah, Blaze, and I were born working-class or lower. Like, a lot lower. Logan, the guy’s grandson, was from the black sheep side of their family. I suppose we could’ve gotten money from banks to start our businesses, but interest. Logan’s grandfather, Stanley Bell, offered to loan each of us a stupid amount of money for no interest. We just had to sign a promissory note. We read the promissory note, but it seemed obvious that we should sign it. We all did.”
Her head bobbed near his hips, engulfing his cock in her mouth and throat. The heat, the pressure, and he gritted his teeth at the rising pleasure.
Tristan squeezed his eyes shut and growled as he struggled to form words. “The conditions of the loan were that we had to pay back the amount owed immediately whenever he demanded it, or else we had to forfeit everything we owned to him. Everything. At the time, I owned a ratty backpack, a junker sedan, and a laptop running Linux because it was so old.”
Her lips were rubbing on his cock, and the tiniest flutter ran through his brain, telling him he wasn’t wearing a condom. It was the first time in his life that a woman’s bare lips had touched his naked cock, and that thought just about sent him over the edge.
He kept talking, only moderately aware of what the heck he was saying. “Stanley laughed when we signed them, telling us to go out and conquer the world because that was the only way he was going to call in our debts. I honestly think his ulterior motive was to give his grandson Logan some money to start a new empire, and he disguised it by loaning money to all four of us. As far as the loan went, we kind of believed him about not calling it in, and we kind of didn’t, but we all felt like we’d gotten away with something when he died last year. The four of us were broken up at his funeral, let me tell you. The Malefactor was the only person who was always there for us, a group of kids who didn’t have anyone else, our last safety net, and then he wasn’t. He was who we called when we were stuck in a blizzard or jail or got our hearts broken or got the clap.”
Cold air shocked his dick as her lips popped off the top of it, and she shout-whispered, “What?”
“Not me. Not me. It was Blaze, I think. And the Malefactor overnighted him some antibiotics, so he didn’t even have to go to the health center. And it was years ago.”
She glared at him. “Dude, if you need antibiotics right now—”
“No! I swear on all the holy books, no. Geez, I wouldn’t have done anything with you if I needed antibiotics. I’d have been in dick quarantine.”
“Okay, then.”
The sultry warmth of her mouth closed over him again, and Tristan sighed.
With two more pumps, he was close. “Five-second warning,” he grated out.
Colleen’s head bobbed faster, the suction of her mouth firmly pulling on his skin as she rose and fell, and his estimate of five seconds had been overstating it as his balls clenched and his body jerked upward into her mouth and farther down her throat, and then the world went white and Tristan was gone.
The white nothingness-bliss faded to gray, and his breath rasped in his throat as his eyes fought to focus. His arm was trembling as he braced himself against the cabinet opposite him. Colleen was grinning up at him from where she sat on her knees.
Oh, that grin. That wasn’t the grin of a good little who’d pleased her Dom. No, that was the smirk of a bratty sub who thought she’d topped from the bottom.
Or from her knees, in this case.
Tristan wasn’t a switch. That gloating snicker was too much for him to take.
He bent, his knees splaying on both sides of her, and hauled Colleen up with his hands under her armpits. Her body was vibrating as she giggled, so Tristan spun her in his hands to scare her a little that he’d dropped her.
She did gasp and flail, but Tristan had already caught her with her back to him now, and he half-flung her across the small sink countertop.
Colleen looked up at him through the mirror, her warm dark eyes wide as she caught herself with both hands, her hips on the edge of the counter and legs dangling. Her lips were pink and swollen from sucking his dick.
Tristan narrowed his eyes as he smiled at her reflection, her expression now appropriately apprehensive. He flipped drawers open, batting aside cotton swabs and wipes until he found a condom packet. “Tell me your safe words.”
“Red and yellow,” she said, her voice breathless.