The Job (Auctioned)

by Cara Dee

  “I know.” I kissed him swiftly, losing my patience. I had to get my mouth on him again. “Lemme go.” I batted away his hand and gripped myself tightly, and he took the hint and shifted closer. He was a fucking vision in the pre-dawn light. Immense and powerful. Thick, muscular thighs, a big, hard cock, tight, heavy balls full of come that I wanted my mouth flooded with. “Don’t hold back.”

  I didn’t look away from him for a second as I sucked him in again, and I wanted him to watch the whole time. I wanted him to know who was getting him off, whose throat he was about to fuck.

  There was less trepidation from him this time. It was so fucking hot how he controlled my movements, both hands on my head, and how he forced his cock deeper down my throat.

  When I choked around him, his predatory gaze flooded with affection, and he touched my cheek almost reverently. And kept fucking me. It was gonna get me off faster than my own hand.

  “You did this to me, little brother,” he whispered roughly. “Now I won’t be able to stop.”

  I moaned around him and felt myself spiral out of control. Sharp bolts of euphoria shot their way to every pleasure point in my body, and it was like coming to life. In that moment, I existed only for him, a thought that shoved me violently toward my orgasm.

  “Don’t come in your hand,” he panted. “I wanna see it.”

  Oh God.

  I couldn’t hold it any longer. I screwed my eyes shut and jerked my cock quickly, and I tightened my lips around him. My eyes stung behind closed lids, my lungs burned, and my whole body ignited.

  My heart pounded furiously.

  Boone came without a warning. He rocked forward with a stuttered groan, pushing his cock along the roof of my mouth and down my throat, and then hot spurts of come started shooting out of him, causing his cock to throb in my mouth. It became my undoing. The climax hit me so hard that I had to lock my jaw into place so I didn’t bite down. Release after release splashed onto the carpet between Boone’s legs, and they took my energy with them.

  He left me feeling raw and used in the best fucking way, and it seemed he wasn’t done. He withdrew slowly from my mouth and then rubbed the wet, salty head of his cock across my lips.

  I shuddered and hauled in a hoarse breath.

  He towered over me, pushed me back against the cushions, and kissed me.

  All I could do was pant and try to calm the fuck down, all while he manhandled me into whatever position he wanted me in. Back under the duvet, I discovered. It was messy. We were a pile of limbs, heaving chests, labored breaths, and wild kisses. His every move was an attempt to get closer, and instead of feeling suffocated, I took so much comfort in it. Whatever he wasn’t ready to say verbally, his body took care of. Maybe this would end in broken hearts; I didn’t care. Because he would never hurt me intentionally, and I couldn’t ask for more.

  “Wait,” I croaked, breaking away from the kiss. I had to breathe. Christ, I was seeing black spots.

  He didn’t exactly wait. He just refocused his attention for a beat. He captured my bottom lip between his teeth and swiped his tongue over it, then kissed his way down to my neck, and he hugged me to him with a force only he possessed.

  It melted me. It was a little funny too. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  He reemerged from the crook of my neck and furrowed his brow. “I gotta make sure. You’re so tiny that a wind could—”

  “Idiot.” I punched his arm.

  He grinned. It was one of his carefree, gorgeous, all-is-right-in-the-world grins that reached his eyes.

  I smiled back and drew my fingers through his beard. “You need a trim soon.”

  “Mm.” He dipped down and kissed me softly. “I guess we should get some more sleep before the hurricane wakes up.”

  Definitely.

  I sighed. “I should do something about the mess I left on the floor first.”

  “Or we accidentally spill some Coke on the carpet, cover it in toilet paper, and leave it for housekeeping.”

  I rumbled a laugh and slipped my leg over his hip. “Your idea wins again.”

  Ten

  Holy fuck.

  And I still wanted to get closer…

  I had to rethink some shit about my sexuality.

  It took me four days to produce enough evidence against the wife who was cheating on Allegra’s…whatever the man was. The woman was anything but subtle, and she seemed to have a sexual appetite that rivaled mine after I’d discovered masturbation.

  When she wasn’t getting banged by her tennis instructor, she was hooking up with her gardener and, as I discovered yesterday, one of her girlfriends. Although, I didn’t have evidence she did anything with her friend that went beyond a make-out session. I’d caught them on camera when they’d left a restaurant to go their separate ways.

  Thank fuck I hadn’t been cheap when I’d bought my camera, because Ace was too curious for her own good. I’d brought her along after picking her up from school one day, and if I’d been forced to park close to wherever the woman flaunted her infidelity, my daughter would’ve had questions. Instead, I was able to say I was taking pictures of locations for Darius.

  With the photographic evidence in hand, I met up with Allegra again, who was more than happy to hand over the information I wanted. Judging by the smug little smirk on her face, she was going to have fun breaking up a marriage.

  I made my way home again, and Boone and I spent the next several days fleshing out all the details, reporting to Darius and Willow, and setting up a timeline for the Lange party.

  On one Friday afternoon, after dropping off Ace at Ma’s place, Boone and I brought Chinese food back to what’d somehow become our home, and we pinned the printouts of our remaining tasks to the wall in the living room.

  We needed some child-free work time this weekend to decide where to go next.

  I unwrapped my chopsticks and dumped rice into my serving of the best pork in Vegas. Deep-fried, sticky, sweet, spicy as fuck.

  “How long can we postpone breaking in to AJ’s house?” Boone asked.

  “Not much longer,” I replied, shoveling some food into my mouth. “I think we should go for Sunday.” I stepped closer to the wall and pointed my chopsticks at AJ’s well-established schedule. The man lived by a strict routine, which definitely worked in our favor. “We know he’ll be gone for three hours from noon.”

  Breaking in during the day had some benefits. People weren’t alarmed by activity when the sun was up, for one.

  Boone had been able to find out a great deal about AJ’s security. In this town, connections were everything, and we’d been around a minute. Thanks to a buddy, we had an educated guess on what to expect inside AJ’s estate. Cameras outside but not indoors. Motion sensors out front but not in the back. And the aforementioned buddy was going to help us turn off the security alarm once we were inside.

  “It’s gonna be difficult not to take anything,” Boone grumbled.

  I grinned and snatched up a spring roll from another container. “We’ll get our shot.”

  This time, we were only looking for information and clues, and we had to secure a safe entry in case Darius and his crew needed access. Boone and I would go in once the whole thing was over and rob AJ blind, at which point we’d been told by our cousin that AJ wouldn’t even be around. I hadn’t asked if AJ was going to end up in prison or in the desert—it didn’t matter to me.

  “All right, so Sunday’s settled,” Boone said. “We gotta do something about the anomaly in AJ’s daily routine.”

  I nodded and shifted my gaze to the printout of a satellite image on the wall. In the weeks we’d run surveillance on AJ Lange, we learned he went to very few places. Work, golf course, gym, home, and the occasional restaurant. But last week, he’d driven out to a secluded address where a brothel once had been located. It was shut down now, though. Willow was currently trying to find an owner.

  “We’ll see if we find any information at his house,” I decided. “Then we’ll head o
ut there—regardless of what we find—next week.” I narrowed my eyes on the list of AJ’s various locations—and considering he didn’t seem to have much of a social life, I was willing to bet he ran a lot of his interactions through safe channels online. “I wish we knew who he’s met up with the few times he’s gone out to dinner.” We hadn’t had the time to pursue any leads other than knowing the exact locations he’d parked and where he’d used valet service. We had to prioritize whatever was going on around his house. We knew when groceries were delivered and when his cleaning service showed up.

  Boone picked up the tablet we’d been using to keep tabs. “Maybe we can find out. We still have one more week, don’t we?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, we don’t have too much on our plate after the weekend,” he went on. “We can squeeze in a couple stakeouts.”

  True. And it would help. Because AJ was just a couple weeks away from having his family and his father’s crime organization invade Las Vegas, and someone out there was running their errands—and it wasn’t him.

  It wasn’t Allegra or the Langes’ personal hospitality manager either. We’d combed through everything Allegra had given us, and while the info was great to have—it answered a shitload of questions—it provided us no clues that we could follow up on before guests arrived. Same with the hospitality guy, Oliver Hansen. Though, the last one could change. From what Laney and Allegra could tell us, we’d learned Hansen was a well-mannered but “kinda introspective and quiet” fella. He apparently did much of his work from home, meaning it was on our list. We knew where he lived and his work hours. Boone and I had to visit his place when he wasn’t there.

  I scratched my forehead, thinking on what Boone had said. Maybe we didn’t have too much on our plate next week, but we’d essentially saved the biggest operations for last.

  “I think we need to split up,” I said. “You can do the stakeouts—I’ll pay Hansen a visit.”

  He frowned and glanced up from the iPad. “I don’t want you to go without me. What if you need backup?”

  “It’s bad enough that we gotta work together to get into AJ’s house,” I replied. “This ain’t our usual MO, Boone. You know that.”

  If we’d had more time, I would’ve preferred we split up a lot more. Like the president and the VP, we’d always tried to work separately for shit that could land our asses in prison. Breaking and entering was one of those gigs. Back in the day before we had Ace, we hadn’t been as careful, and we’d also served some time for it.

  Boone sighed, appearing irritated, and sat down on the couch. “Maybe I’d be on board if you weren’t trying to push me away.”

  What the fuck?

  “Excuse me?”

  He threw me a bitchy look. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’ve been different since the Venetian.”

  I didn’t know what he was talking about, and I knew it showed on my face. In fact, he was fucking ridiculous, and that probably showed too. He’d basically moved in to my house the minute we’d left the hotel, and we’d spent every night together since. Not sleeping. My brother was all about hands and mouth, and I’d promised not to push him, no matter how badly I wanted to fuck him and get screwed in return.

  “Have you lost your goddamn marbles?” I asked incredulously. “We’re together day and night. The only time we’re careful is when we’re around Ace and Mom.”

  “But you barely take the initiative!” he argued. “If you’re in the kitchen, I come in and act all sweet. If you’re in the shower, I join you. When we go to bed, I’m the one who makes the move, and—why the fuck are you smiling?” he growled.

  I couldn’t help it! He was being cute.

  After setting down my food on the coffee table, I went to him and straddled his whiny ass, ready to give him a piece of my mind. And he did the thing where he tried to be all indifferent, leaning back against the cushions, folding his arms over his chest, jaw set, stubbornness written across his features.

  “Quit actin’ like a child.” I cupped his cheeks and made him look me in the eye. “It’s been you and me for thirty-five years—as brothers and best friends. And whatever’s going through your head might’ve been building up for who knows how long, but for me, your sudden interest in kissing and getting off together happened overnight.” I couldn’t stress that enough. “I don’t know if you’re going through a phase, if you’re clinging to me because we just spent the last four years apart, or—”

  “It’s not a goddamn phase,” he bit out.

  I suppressed a sigh. “Okay. But you’re missing my point. I don’t know what the fuck is going on up here.” I tapped the side of his head. “You don’t wanna talk about it—you don’t want me to ask questions. Well, then you’re gonna have to calm your fucking tits and understand why I’m being careful. Because I know how I feel, Boone. I know that I will be a wreck once you figure out that all you really wanted was to secure a place in my life again.”

  We all did stupid things when we were desperate.

  Boone glanced up at me with a scowl. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one. In what universe would I believe I gotta suck you off in order to be part of your life?”

  Oh, for chrissakes. I rolled my eyes and shifted off his lap. My back hit the armrest, and I leaned my elbows on it. “Try to think a bit further than that, dick. I confessed to you that I walked out because I had feelings for you, and how do you respond in your grief—to use your words—from missing me? You stick your tongue down my throat. What the fresh hell am I supposed to think?”

  He averted his gaze and bit at a cuticle, but then his forehead creased and he glanced back at me. “First time I planted one on you was before any confession.”

  Was it? Oh. Maybe so. To be honest, I’d done my best to just shove that memory out of my mind, because none of it had made sense.

  “Whatever—there’s the nightclub too,” I pointed out.

  He shook his head. “Don’t do that, Case. You’re actively trying to minimize shit now. You know me. I’m a lot of things, but shifty ain’t one of them. Not to you—not to family.”

  “Except for when you know I’m on my way home and you feel like getting head from the neighbor.”

  That remark earned me a glare, but I couldn’t fucking help it. Sometimes I was still bitter.

  He sat on all the answers, yet he demanded patience from me. He wanted to live with me, explore with me—or whatever it was—and now I was apparently not living up to the hype. I wasn’t taking initiative. Fuck him.

  “That was uncalled for,” he told me.

  “Was it?” I shrugged and got off the couch, wanting some distance. “Even though you didn’t know back then why I didn’t wanna see you with other women, you knew I was serious. I begged and fucking pleaded with you to just make that promise. And the last time, it wasn’t some drunken mistake—you called that bitch over, fully aware that I was gonna walk in on you.”

  He flinched. “And I apologized— Hey, where are you going? We’re in the middle of a conversation.”

  “I want a goddamn Pop-Tart,” I snapped. “Is that okay with you?”

  “No, we’re gonna talk about this!”

  Oh, so now he wanted to talk. How convenient for him.

  “Blow me, Boone,” I said on the way into the kitchen. “Or better yet, try the neighbor.”

  “Fuck you,” he spat out.

  “Not in your wildest dreams, sugar tits!” It was easy to mask my anger with laughter. I’d done it for years. Whenever he got smashed and sought out a pair of breasts to get lost in, I’d laughed and wished him a happy hunt.

  I swallowed the ancient hurt that threatened to resurface and opened the cupboard. I didn’t even want the damn Pop-Tart. I just needed space.

  Since when did I get what I wanted, though? As soon as I heard Boone getting off the couch, I knew our fight was about to level up, and I steeled myself.

  “Ask me why I did what I did back then,” he deman
ded, appearing in the doorway.

  I didn’t spare him a single glance. “You can’t even say it?” I snorted and popped two Pop-Tarts into the toaster.

  “Ask me,” he gritted out.

  “No,” I snapped irritably. “You’re done always getting your way, and you can get the fuck outta my face or move back in with Ma. Those are your only options.”

  He completely ignored me. “You think that little of me, huh? Because the way I see it, you gotta think I’d be out to actually hurt you. Is that it? You honestly believe I’m that malicious?”

  “I already know your excuse.” I threw him a glare. “You were thinking with your dick—I’ve heard it before.”

  “That’s not what I asked.” He glared right back, and it made me wanna punch him in the face. He had no goddamn reason to be mad at me. “I wanna know what you believe, Casey. Do you think I would ever willingly hurt you?”

  That set me off, and my blood went from simmer to boil in an instant. “How the fuck else am I supposed to interpret what you did, Boone?! You gave me your word and took a dump all over it!”

  “Because I didn’t know what you were going through!” he shouted. “I had no reason to think anything was wrong—other than you being a controlling piece of shit as usual!”

  My eyes nearly bugged out, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. His words slashed through me, hurting me as much as they infuriated me, and what killed me the most was that he was right. I’d been so fucking controlling back then, because I hadn’t been able to keep my jealousy in check.

  I felt the embarrassment rise under my skin, and it only made me angrier.

  “So you thought revenge was best served with a woman’s mouth on your cock,” I said hoarsely.

  “No.” He swallowed hard, stewing, clenching his jaw, eyes brimming with anger and—something else. Defeat? “I thought it was the best course of action to make sure you didn’t find out how fucking obsessed with you I was.”

  “You—” Wait, what? A breath gusted out of me, and I just stared at him.