downwards. Their kiss made the floor unsteady again. It changed everything, softened, ripened , stretched until the only thing holding his wayward stomach up, was Rook’s stiff cock playing kick-stand to his shivering insides.
His pulse raced, his head swam, and Rook almost lost touch with reality as he barely strangled off the groan rising in his chest. He pulled away first, stumbling backwards. He stared at the other man, dragged the back of his hand across his mouth.
Gedryyelled, “The ninth ain’t got their own beer and pretzels?” Peripheral sound came rushing back, reminding Rook what he’d been doing and why he had thought kissing the man had been a good idea. Why had that been, again?
“What the fuck was that?” one of the ninth asked, his voice high pitched and nervous.
Rook shored himself up with arrogance he didn’t feel. He turned to the other four with a wide, knowing grin. “Who’s next?”
“The fucking seventh wants to have your baby cops, Nate,” another said, sneering. Nate’s friends laughed tightly.
He didn’t look at Nate, certain he’d notice how shaken the kiss had left Rook. Nonetheless, he listened for Nate’s response as he opened his arms in a “bring it on” gesture.
The bar continued to chant. The bartender yelled to take it outside.
“Let’s go,” Nate said. His voice was barely loud enough to carry.
The bar cheered. Rook turned a slow circle like the champion in a fight, a cocky grin on his face as he bounced his wide-spread arms to the time of their chants. “Rook! Rook! Rook! Rook!”
The ninth began to file out and Rook kept his back to them, a deliberate show of disrespect and lack of concern.
A sharp, stinging slap zinged his ass. A warm body pressed up close to Rook’s back preventing him from turning. Nate, the fallen dog, whispered close to Rook’s ear from behind. “It took one kiss to get you hard enough to pound nails. Another one, and your ass is mine for the taking. Next time we meet, I’m going to Queen your Rook, bitch.”
Agent Nate Giamanti propped one hand on his waist, his wrist pushed back one side of the ATF windbreaker as he listened to the chatter on his radio. He absently fingered the badge affixed to his belt. Derrick, his partner, nodded towards the three story building and Nate tipped his head in unspoken acknowledgement. He was ready too, just as soon as the damn precinct got its sadly misshapen ass together.
The boys in blue couldn’t be more disorganised. But what had he been expecting from the seventh? Nate waited for what seemed like another eternity. Even though the threat had been diminished and the majority of the gun stash from the apartment had been collected, he kept the patrol car between him and the building.
He’d been home free when they’d found the damn body. Not just any damn body, but the damn body of on open case currently being worked by Detective David Rook. He’d gone three weeks, trying to forget the fucker and that kiss.
Instead, Nate had the dubious privilege of waiting for the cocky sonofabitch to show up, debrief him, and turn over the scene along with the ongoing report details. There was one way Nate wanted the debriefing to go down and he was pretty sure Rook wouldn’t go for it. Then again, maybe Nate could just bend him over the back of the patrol car and nail Rook’s ass until he quit thinking about the detective from seventh.
Nate’s fingers flicking over the hard leather badge plate made the tips numb as the rhythm increased. He’d done some looking at Rook’s file in the guise of not thinking about the man. But no matter how he sliced it, David Rook left an impression. One that made Nate’s cock want to storm Rook’s defences to see exactly what kind of artillery he was sporting.
Derrick’s expression took on one of bemusement. “Looks like your girlfriend finally decided to make an appearance.”
Nate looked around, saw Detective Rook and one of the shits
His pulse raced, his head swam, and Rook almost lost touch with reality as he barely strangled off the groan rising in his chest. He pulled away first, stumbling backwards. He stared at the other man, dragged the back of his hand across his mouth.
Gedryyelled, “The ninth ain’t got their own beer and pretzels?” Peripheral sound came rushing back, reminding Rook what he’d been doing and why he had thought kissing the man had been a good idea. Why had that been, again?
“What the fuck was that?” one of the ninth asked, his voice high pitched and nervous.
Rook shored himself up with arrogance he didn’t feel. He turned to the other four with a wide, knowing grin. “Who’s next?”
“The fucking seventh wants to have your baby cops, Nate,” another said, sneering. Nate’s friends laughed tightly.
He didn’t look at Nate, certain he’d notice how shaken the kiss had left Rook. Nonetheless, he listened for Nate’s response as he opened his arms in a “bring it on” gesture.
The bar continued to chant. The bartender yelled to take it outside.
“Let’s go,” Nate said. His voice was barely loud enough to carry.
The bar cheered. Rook turned a slow circle like the champion in a fight, a cocky grin on his face as he bounced his wide-spread arms to the time of their chants. “Rook! Rook! Rook! Rook!”
The ninth began to file out and Rook kept his back to them, a deliberate show of disrespect and lack of concern.
A sharp, stinging slap zinged his ass. A warm body pressed up close to Rook’s back preventing him from turning. Nate, the fallen dog, whispered close to Rook’s ear from behind. “It took one kiss to get you hard enough to pound nails. Another one, and your ass is mine for the taking. Next time we meet, I’m going to Queen your Rook, bitch.”
Agent Nate Giamanti propped one hand on his waist, his wrist pushed back one side of the ATF windbreaker as he listened to the chatter on his radio. He absently fingered the badge affixed to his belt. Derrick, his partner, nodded towards the three story building and Nate tipped his head in unspoken acknowledgement. He was ready too, just as soon as the damn precinct got its sadly misshapen ass together.
The boys in blue couldn’t be more disorganised. But what had he been expecting from the seventh? Nate waited for what seemed like another eternity. Even though the threat had been diminished and the majority of the gun stash from the apartment had been collected, he kept the patrol car between him and the building.
He’d been home free when they’d found the damn body. Not just any damn body, but the damn body of on open case currently being worked by Detective David Rook. He’d gone three weeks, trying to forget the fucker and that kiss.
Instead, Nate had the dubious privilege of waiting for the cocky sonofabitch to show up, debrief him, and turn over the scene along with the ongoing report details. There was one way Nate wanted the debriefing to go down and he was pretty sure Rook wouldn’t go for it. Then again, maybe Nate could just bend him over the back of the patrol car and nail Rook’s ass until he quit thinking about the detective from seventh.
Nate’s fingers flicking over the hard leather badge plate made the tips numb as the rhythm increased. He’d done some looking at Rook’s file in the guise of not thinking about the man. But no matter how he sliced it, David Rook left an impression. One that made Nate’s cock want to storm Rook’s defences to see exactly what kind of artillery he was sporting.
Derrick’s expression took on one of bemusement. “Looks like your girlfriend finally decided to make an appearance.”
Nate looked around, saw Detective Rook and one of the shits
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