At some point he shuddered and became aware of Tiago licking the bite mark while still thrusting against him.
Tiago came up to his knees, rumbling, his eyes lit with such want Dallas expected to be singed from it.
“Over,” Tiago demanded, his fangs still out, lending an extra harshness to the word.
Dallas started to roll.
Tiago grabbed him and flipped him instead.
“Tia—ohh,” Dallas moaned as his cheeks were pushed apart. “Yes, please,” he begged when Tiago’s hot breath gusted over the small of his back. “Uhn.”
“Please what?” Tiago asked.
Dallas could feel the moisture from Tiago’s exhalations and knew the man was tormenting him on purpose. It made Dallas’ dick twitch with excitement. “Lick my ass. Rim me. Eat me. Shove your tongue so far in me I can taste it.”
That last part might have been overkill, but Dallas was out of his head with need, despite just coming. He needed his mate to fuck him.
Tiago nipped him on the butt. “Such dirty talk. I like it.”
Dallas had done it before. Rarely, but he had. It’d never been like it was with Tiago. Usually it was something he used to hurry along the guy he was with, get him off and on his way.
But with Tiago, it was all simply the truth.
“Good. I’d like it if you’d get me wet and ready for that big dick of yours.”
Tiago cursed and bit his ass harder, not enough to break the skin, but Dallas felt it, that was certain.
“I don’t like pain,” Dallas got out before he lost his nerve. Honesty—he believed in it a hundred percent.
“Not going to hurt you,” Tiago muttered. “Gods, your ass… Raise up for me.”
Dallas got his knees under him.
Tiago caressed his buttocks. He licked from the top of Dallas’ crease to his hole, then further still until his tongue teased Dallas’ balls.
Dallas grabbed at the moss, needing to hold onto something.
His cock seemed like a much better option, so he moved a hand down to grip it.
Tiago licked him up and down, over and over until Dallas was ready to scream.
“I need—”
“I know,” Tiago said before sucking on Dallas’ ring.
Dallas thumped his forehead against the moss. “Oh gods, oh fuck, oh gods!”
Tiago blew on the wet skin then lapped at it until Dallas would have sworn he could feel every molecule vibrating there.
Then Tiago lipped his asshole before pushing that slick tongue into Dallas.
“Ungh,” was supposed to be
fuck yes
but Dallas’ tongue and brain miscommunicated. He tipped his butt up more and whined when Tiago began tongue-fucking him like it was the only thing each of them wanted.
It wasn’t. Dallas wanted that big dick splitting him in two.
Tiago licked him until Dallas was shivering constantly, need rampant in him. “Please, please, please,” he begged, rocking back against Tiago.
Tiago reached under him and pinched one of Dallas’ nipples.
Dallas yelped from surprise, not pain, and when Tiago did it again, Dallas moaned.
“Soon, baby,” Tiago promised. He worked that one tit as he resumed tonguing Dallas’ hole.
Dallas hadn’t been rimmed all that much. Most of his sex had been for others, not himself. He’d purposefully kept it that way, instilling, he knew, a distance between him and those guys. It was easier to let himself be used than to trust in someone and end up used. Dallas had maintained control of the encounters that way.
He wasn’t in control now. Tiago owned him and played him perfectly.
No one had ever spent so long preparing Dallas. He’d been fucked hard and angrily, slow and desperately, with no concern for himself, not really.
Tiago worshiped his ass, loving that little hole and encouraging it to loosen for him.
When Tiago pushed slick digits into it, Dallas keened, so ready for more than that.
The care Tiago was taking with him was undoing him more than the act itself.
Tiago licked his hole again then rubbed his cheek against Dallas’ butt. “You are divine, my sweet.”
Dallas would have rolled his eyes had anyone else in the entire world said that. With Tiago, the words came out as if he weren’t even aware he’d spoken them. They simply escaped from his subconscious and out to sprinkle themselves all over Dallas.
Tiago must have had something more than spit on hand, because the easy glide of those digits deep into Dallas wasn’t done on spit alone.
Dallas arched and purred when Tiago caressed his prostate. “Ohhh, nice,” he managed, the words thick on his tongue.
Tiago chuckled and stroked him again.
Dallas’ eyes rolled as Tiago pressed another finger into him, stretching his ring.
Dallas hummed his approval, wiggling his butt. He’d had to quit jacking himself some time ago or he would have come and he wanted to wait to shoot again until Tiago was inside him.
If Tiago didn’t hurry up, that might not happen.
Tiago fingered him faster, leaving off teasing his gland. He pushed in with sharp, quick movements that pumped more and more pleasure into Dallas’ ass.
Then there was nothing, Tiago taking those digits out.
Dallas shivered with anticipation, knowing what was going to be filling him next.
Tiago’s cock was broader than his fingers had been. Tiago held onto Dallas’ hips. “All of me.”
“Yes,” Dallas agreed.
Tiago’s grunt turned into a shouted curse as he thrust his cock in fully.
Dallas’ ass lit up with a hot ache that quickly morphed into perfect ecstasy.
Without hesitating, Tiago fucked him—hard, fast and deep. He held onto Dallas with a bruising strength, and while Dallas didn’t like pain, Tiago’s grip didn’t hurt, and he liked knowing he’d have marks.
Tiago began cussing with every shove in. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” He slammed his hips against Dallas’ ass, driving in with a desperation that was palpable.
Dallas felt it in his mind, through the link they had. Tiago’s need rammed into him just like his cock was doing. Dallas’ own pleasure was doubled, tripled, grew and flowed back into Tiago, only to return again and again.
He wasn’t going to survive it. Such rapturous feelings had to destroy a person.
But that was why some referred to an orgasm as a little death.
It was a bit bigger than that.
Dallas shattered inside as Tiago rode him. Without even jacking his own shaft, Dallas came again, cum spurting from his dick as if he’d not had a release in years.
Tiago folded over him and roared as his spunk filled Dallas’ ass.
Dallas would have collapsed but his knees were pinned beneath them both. When Tiago stopped shuddering and grinding against him, he helped Dallas to stretch out on his side.
Tiago panted for several minutes.
Dallas knew how he felt. He couldn’t catch his breath either.
Eventually, Tiago pulled him into his arms.
Dallas rested his head on Tiago’s chest, and slung one arm and leg over the big man.
“It will always be like that?” Tiago asked later.
Dallas opened eyes that had drifted shut. “I’ve heard it is, even when taking it slower. Mates just do it for each other. No one else will.”
Tiago grunted.
Dallas wondered if that meant he was okay with their situation or not. Honestly, Dallas didn’t know if
he
was okay with everything. Then again, he didn’t have a choice. He could be angry that Fate had paired him up as it had, or he could trust in what had been chosen—who had been chosen—for him.
At some point, he became aware of anxious thoughts seeping into his mind—worries over home and destruction, death and loneliness that were not his. Instead of getting angry, Dallas told himself to listen. He and Tiago were two different people, very different in some ways. To bridge the gap between them, someone would have to bend.
Dallas was flexible, but he had his limits. Tiago would have to adjust his thinking as well. Sex could only go so far toward making them the kind of mated pair Dallas had always dreamed about being a part of.
Where was the line in the sand for each of them?
That was the question Dallas fretted over until he fell asleep.
Chapter Seven
Maarten had never been in so much pain in his life. His muscles and bones ached from being pinned to the wall. Chained.
“I could take you down for a little while.”
Maarten opened his eyes after a struggle. His lids were crusty and he couldn’t rub at them.
He saw a man who was devastatingly handsome, with dark brown hair and vibrant green eyes. While not as muscular as Maarten, the man was still nicely built—and tall.
He could have been a model, an actor, a god—but he was a drug dealer wearing expensive clothes and smirking at Maarten.
“Good morning, Maarten. You don’t seem happy to see me at all.” Butler turned and gestured to one of his men. “Henri, bring Jackie and take Maarten down. I’m sure he could use a break.” Butler faced him and smiled. “You have figured out who I am. Robert, or Roberto, Butler. I am aware that you know this. That name will do you no good whatsoever.” His lips curved up even more.
Maarten refused to speak. The asshole was trying to bait him. What was the point in that? Maarten couldn’t fight him.
Robert Butler walked up to him and pressed right where Maarten’s ribs throbbed. He leaned in, hard. “Sore?” he asked, something very much like arousal flaring in his eyes. “Does this hurt?” He shoved with more force.
Maarten tried not to make a sound. He bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood.
Robert’s smile grew even bigger. “Nice.” He drew back his hand then slammed it against that same spot.
Maarten coughed as his breath left him.
“Your kind heal fast. I know that much.” He hit Maarten again. “Demons.” He leaned closer. “That’s what I tell them you are, but I know.
I know.”
Maarten’s side flared with streaks of pain.
Robert drew back his fist again.
Maarten flinched and Robert laughed.
“I had an agreement with the former, hmm, shall we say, leader of the pack?” Robert chuckled and backed away. “Then he was gone, and the people of his I used to deliver my products began to ask questions they shouldn’t have. I lost a lot of business because of your boyfriend. I don’t appreciate that at all.”
If he was waiting for Maarten to comment, he could stand there until the world ended.
Robert Butler did wait for a solid minute then with a smile that gave Maarten the creeps, he stepped back and let his men approach Maarten.
“If you do anything stupid, I’ll make certain your boyfriend and his companions die before they reach us here.”
That got Maarten’s attention.
Butler nodded at him. “Yes, I know exactly where they are. I didn’t even bother doing more than sending a text to Ryder to tell him I’d contact him at another time instead of calling him. What was the point? He’ll be here soon.” Butler looked him over. “You must have a tracking device on you somewhere. Or is it in you?”
Maarten closed his eyes. He was passing everything along to Ryder.
“We should have stripped his clothes off. Go ahead and do that before you take him down. Easier that way,” Butler added.
The clothes were cut off him.
Maarten regretted the loss of the sweet, bright green jeans and his neon orange thong.
“Even dresses like a fag,” one of the men muttered.
“None of that nonsense,” Butler said firmly. “We don’t tolerate it.”
“But I—”
A sudden yelp had Maarten opening his eyes. A man—presumably the one who’d made the crude comment about Maarten’s clothes—made a gargling noise as his throat was slit. Blood spewed out and the pungent scent of death filled the room. A second man grunted and let the lifeless body drop to the floor at Maarten’s feet.
Butler wiped off the blade of the knife he was holding. “I can’t tolerate such stupidity.” He tucked the knife into his sleeve and arched an eyebrow at Maarten. “Surprised? Very few people are all good or all bad. Even your beloved boyfriend must surely be an ass at times.”
“Not a drug dealing, kidnapping, murdering ass,” Maarten finally said, his voice so rough as to be unrecognizable to him. He was thirsty and miserable, and Butler was an idiot to compare himself to Ryder.
Butler gave him another of those weird smiles. “Sadist. You should add that to your list of my faults. I do try to keep that contained to willing partners, however—with the rare exception of enjoying a prisoner’s pain. Besides, we can’t all be the good guys, can we?”
Maarten didn’t get a chance to answer. At that moment, his arms were unchained and the pain caused upon having them moved was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.
Butler liked to see people hurt, he was enjoying himself for certain when Maarten bellowed as stiff muscles were forced to move.
“Very nice,” Butler murmured. “Very nice indeed.”
Maarten blacked out for a moment when the rest of the restraints were undone. He woke up on the floor with one man aiming a wicked looking gun at him. Maarten could see that it was loaded with darts attached to vials of gold liquid.
The dead man was gone and a middle-aged woman knelt, scrubbing the floor. As far as Maarten could tell, Butler wasn’t in the room anymore.
“Ryder?”
“We’ll be there soon, Maarten. Olin is checking into some things. He thinks Butler had people spying on our pack all along. This guy was able to shut down Keegan and Olin’s phones, so he has power, money, access to equipment and—or
—
people who can do things like that for him. He’s not some stupid, small time criminal like I first thought. And he knows where we are, so we can’t sneak in yet. Soon, but not yet.”
Maarten trusted his mate.
“I’ll just wait here for you then. Be careful.”
Ryder’s amusement was slight but there.
“Yeah, wouldn’t want you to run off—unless you can, then do it.”
“I can’t even stand up.”
Maarten was so weak it was pathetic. Between the dehydration, the beating, and being pinned like a bug to the wall, his strength was gone. “Thirsty,” he complained out loud.
The man holding the gun shook his head. “Señor Butler said nothing for you.”