The Job (Auctioned) by Cara Dee (highly illogical behavior txt) 📕

I heard the slick sounds from us. Both from working my cock in and out of him and his hand stroking his cock. I felt the muscles in his arm ripple, same with the muscles in his back.

The pain was fading for him.

I caught his neck in the crease of my arm and reached down to touch his chest, brushing my fingers through his chest hair. I pinched his nipple lightly and abandoned his hip for his cock. I wanted to feel him pulse in my hand. He trembled as I took over, clenching and relaxing, clenching and relaxing.

His cock was wet with pre-come, and I rubbed it in with firm strokes and cupped my hand over the blunt head.

He started panting. For a moment, I didn’t even have to move. He pushed into my hand, then back on my cock, chasing every sensation I gave him.

The buildup was too brief. I went from wanting to prolong this for hours to needing to get off in mere seconds.

“Boone,” I croaked, out of breath.

“I’m so fucking close,” he gasped, reaching for something. Whatever it was, he slipped it under him, near his cock. Maybe his boxers—I didn’t fucking care. “Fuck me, little brother. Fuck me hard.”

I screwed my eyes shut and groaned against his shoulder. Then I let my body take over completely, and I chased my orgasm in hard thrusts that slapped my pelvis against his ass. Every time I buried my cock all the way in, I was overcome with pleasure. He was so goddamn warm, tight, and wet. Wet with lube, wet with come.

He pushed off the covers and rocked into my hand, and he went rigid all over. My body was sufficiently overheated that the chill blasting us only felt good.

His orgasm set off mine. I felt his hot release shoot between my fingers, and I just barely managed to tighten my grip on him and stroke him faster before I surrendered to my climax.

Holy fuck.

My heart thundered.

I fucked rope after rope of come deep into his ass.

He clamped down on me.

Sex had never been so motherfucking good.

A steady current of shivers flowed through us, and for several beats, all I heard were our shallow breaths.

I swallowed against the dryness in my throat.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasped. He moved something made of fabric over my hand, and I cracked one eye open and lifted my heavy head to look. It was his boxers. Good thinking. Now we didn’t have to get up to change the sheets. “My ass feels raw,” he murmured hoarsely. “How long does it take to recover?”

I exhaled a laugh and carefully withdrew from him.

He winced. “I’m serious. From now on, one of us is getting fucked every night.”

I smiled and yawned and rolled onto my back to stretch out. “We can flip-fuck each other until we can’t walk.”

“What’s a flip-fuck? You have a lot to teach me.” He discarded his boxers, then returned his heat to me and landed his head on my chest. “But for the sake of my sanity, we’re gonna pretend you learned everything from the internet.”

I chuckled. “Flip-fuck just means we take turns.”

He hummed and kissed my chest. “Which you learned from the internet. Right?”

“Right.” I couldn’t kill the grin on my mug. Fuck, how I loved him.

Fifteen

I’d waited long enough. It was time to reintroduce some old traditions.

Maybe we could bring Ace. Make it a family thing. Or—actually, no. There would be countless family things, but sometimes, I wanted Case to myself.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number I’d found online.

“You’ve reached Giordano’s. This is Zoe speaking. How may I help you?”

“I’d like to make a reservation,” I said.

For our first official date—at our place.

Our early Monday morning in bed was the last peaceful moment we got that week. Boone and I threw ourselves back into work, and it was basically the only thing we did while Ace was in school. We kept going through the photos from AJ’s house, mapping out his life and personality as best as we could, we replayed the audio from his office whenever his car was parked at home, and we sent all our theories and information to Willow.

The man was insanely careful. Even when we got him on tape, he didn’t say anything incriminating. There were a few dates and locations mentioned, leads for Darius and his crew to follow up on, but nothing that made us jump out of our seats.

On Wednesday, we dropped off Ace for dinner at Mom’s place so Boone could check out the old brothel outside of town and I could break in to the hospitality guy’s apartment.

Oliver Hansen led a modest life, despite that he probably earned well enough at the Venetian. His apartment was in a nice complex near Downtown Summerlin, but the security was downright crap. I was in and out of his two-bedroom apartment in under an hour, and I didn’t exactly leave empty-handed.

I’d transferred a total of forty gigabytes of documents from his home computer, I’d gotten my hands on approximately seventeen passwords that Oliver kept on a damn note in his desk, I’d taken photos of anything interesting in his place, and a handful of $100 poker chips had somehow jumped down into my pockets.

On my way back to Ma’s place, I called Boone and found out he was on his way back too. I stalled by stopping at a Chevron for gas and a six-pack of Mom’s favorite beer. We hadn’t told Ace not to say anything about Boone and me being together—on purpose—so chances were, we’d need to butter Mom up a bit. At the register, I decided to get her some scratch-offs too. She loved those.

Boone was already parked outside Ma’s house when I pulled up, and I smirked when he stepped out of his truck.

I killed the engine but stayed in my seat to replace my black hoodie with my favorite denim shirt. “You afraid to face Mom