Page 33 of The Silencer

“No, I’m sure he’s busy getting railed into next year by Cash and Ford.”

“Yeah, he’s ass up all day,” I snicker.

Angel sighs. “What’s it like, getting fucked?”

I eye my friend and shift on the bed. “It’s pretty damn fun.”

“Yeah?” Angel asks as he sits up a little taller. “I mean, I’ve watched porn, but what does it feel like?”

“If it’s done well, it feels really fucking nice.”

“How’s it done well?”

“When they take their time, make you wild with lust, so much so that when they first enter, it doesn’t even sting. It just feels glorious.”

He sighs and then lays his head onto my shoulder once more.

“One day,” he whispers, and I whisper back.

“Yeah, one day.”

I’m on time to my nightly rub-down with Anthony, and of course he’s late. I don’t know where he is, but he seems to be doing everything in his power to irritate me.

As annoying as it is, he’s still ridiculously attractive.

So, instead of bitching, I sit outside his office, chattering Teddy’s ear off until he grunts a response.

“Uhh,” he says on a puff of air.

I perk up, feeling like I’ve won the lottery.

“Oh my god, what was it I said that prompted a response?” I ask, trying to replay what I was blathering on about in my head. I honestly can’t remember, but it was something that got him to react.

He obviously doesn’t come to my aid and tell me. Not at all. He just lets me frantically think about what I was going on and on about.

I come up with nothing, it’s elusive.

I run a hand through my hair and start to pace when Anthony appears through the front door, a frown on his face, his eyes narrowed in frustration. He obviously came from something that’s put him in a mood.

I tighten the belt around my robe and feel my dick perk up.

Seems I like the sight of him all grumpy and growly. There’s nothing more to it than that.

I want him to fuck me while he frowns at me.

“Inside. Now,” Anthony says, stalking to the office door, unlocking it, and walking through. I eyeball Teddy, but he doesn’t give me any kind of signal about what’s to come.

God, I hope it’s me.

I want to come my eyeballs out.

“Tatum,” Anthony growls, and I move a little slower.

I don’t know what prompts me to do this, but I want to annoy him, just a little. I shouldn’t push his buttons, but I can’t help but reach out and flick them. Just once. Wanna see what happens.

“Close the door, Teddy,” Anthony commands, and then as soon as my feet hit the rug inside his office, the door clicks shut ominously—or is it sexually?—behind me.

I wander into the room, noting the fireplace is turned on, the lamps lowly lit. Anthony is pouring himself a drink, his shoulders bunched up and tense under his suit jacket, so I wander over to the bookshelves, letting my eyes flit across the spines.