I offered a smile. I was nothing if not charming, after all.
“Perhaps I could sign an autograph or two? If your staff would like any pictures, I’d be more than happy to….”
It was an obvious bribe.
She took it without hesitation.
The grumpiness seemed to fade the farther we got from the hospital.
It was a unanimous decision—disregarding Hassan’s vote, which very much didn’t count—that he would not be working that evening. A car wreck was bad enough, but knowing he’d been nearly blown up two days prior was more than enough reason to send him to his room.
Doc, Mikhail, and Jackson were capable, I told him and he reluctantly agreed; he trusted them for that very reason.
I continued work in my office while he slept. Or, at least I tried to. It had taken quite a bit of convincing Hank to not have a meltdown over the phone, but my heart wasn’t in the work. Focusing was impossible, when I knew something had happened to Hassan. He had been so dedicated to protecting me, he didn’t bother to stop and think about his own safety.
The day came and went. Once the clock struck nine and I had sufficiently not completed enough work for the day, I shut my computer off. There was no reason to pretend to work anymore.
I crept along down the hallway and stood before Hassan’s door a long time before knocking—I merely listened a moment to the rhythmic sound of his breathing, heavy as he slept. I let him have a few more minutes before I carefully cracked the door.
He looked much gentler in his sleep—unburdened was the best way to describe it. Slowly, I let myself in shutting the door behind me. I set a glass of water on the nightstand before turning on the dim bedside light.
I hadn’t been in his room since he’d started working for me. It was still quite bare, aside from a book on the nightstand and some things scattered along the far wall. I grinned despite myself at the book; it was sort of funny to picture someone as muscular and bullheaded as Hassan reading.
As I reached out to touch it, my hand was stopped by another. Hassan gently grabbed my wrist and I gasped at the touch. “Jesus—you’re awake.”
“Mostly.” He blinked against the light. “What time is it?”
“Nine-thirty.”
“At night?”
“Yes.”
He groaned, flopping onto his back. “Shit….”
I sat on the edge of his bed and he scooched his body over slightly to make room. He slept without a shirt, the edge of the blanket tastefully covering him from his navel down. That was good to know; I wonder what else he slept without. I tried not to think about it.
“Did you sleep all right?”
“Yeah.”
A silence fell over us. There were questions I wanted to ask. Answers he was willing to give.
“Hassan, what happened?” The question was careful.
He groaned, sitting up and wincing slightly. “I’m gonna need some painkillers soon….”
“Hassan….”
Our eyes met. Something like guilt flickered there for a moment before he glanced away. “I was investigating. Following up on the knife lead.”
“You were going to the shop.” I repeated his words from this morning. “And… you got hit by a car? Just randomly.”
He licked his lips, shaking his head slowly. “I know who it is now. I wasn’t sure of it before, but now… I’m sure.”
That hadn’t been what I was expecting and he knew it. His hand set carefully over mine as I asked, “Who?”
It felt like such a large question with such a simple answer. All I wanted was a name.
“A man named Henry Carter.” Saying the name looked like it pained Hassan about as much as being hit by a car. “We…. I knew him. We were friends. Once. He went off the grid a while ago. I really thought I wouldn’t ever see or hear from him again, but….” He shrugged.
It was all news to me. I tried to keep an even face despite the slight hurt I was feeling. It was irrational, I told myself. Hassan wasn’t to blame for knowing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because, I was too close to it. I think I was sure of it, but admitting it was probably Henry was… conflicting. And I needed hard evidence. ”
“What made you sure?”
“The knife.” He nodded slowly, ran a hand through his shorn hair. “I thought it was him maybe, when I fell into that trap, but now I’m sure. The shop clerk described him.”
I nodded slowly. I thought I would feel relief, knowing the name, the identity of the person doing this. Instead, that relief was replaced with concern; I hadn’t ever seen Hassan so quiet, contemplative. I’d never seen him truly hurt. They might have not been friends for some time, but the relationship had been there once. It was easy to see. It was betrayal.
Slowly, I covered his hand with mine. “I’m sorry.”
His eyes snapped up, a small grin slowly forming. He huffed and shook his head like he did when he thought I was being ridiculous. “I can’t believe you exist,” he muttered, more to himself than to me.
I raised a brow. “What does that mean?”
When he looked at me again, it was with a glint of disbelief. “I kept secrets from you when you asked for honesty. I was going to try to talk to him, Fred. I was going to try to convince him to stop, but this ended up happening. All of these things keep happening and yet you….” He sighed. “And you think you need to be the one to apologize.”
I looked down at the hands—our hands—resting on the sheet. “I’m sure it doesn’t feel good. Knowing it’s someone you cared about.” I grinned. “And you’re being honest with me now.” It was all I had asked for and though it was coming in the wake of something terrible, I was glad to have it. Finally.
Hassan shook his head, still in disbelief of my existence. “Yeah.” I took a deep breath, biting at my lips as the smile there faded. My hand held tighter to his. Obviously, he noticed. “What is it?”
It was something else I’d been thinking about all day. The scare of knowing Hassan had been hurt, that he might have disappeared completely without my being able to stop it, all because of something I was tangled in…. It was wrong.
“I think I should fire you.”
When I looked back up at him, he wasn’t smiling anymore.
“What?”
“I don’t want you working for me anymore. Doing—all of this shit.” Stalker, no stalker. It was dangerous. It didn’t seem worth it. “I thought for a second today, when I got the call from the hospital that I might have… that you might have just been gone.” There were things in my past I didn’t like to bring up and this was one of them. “I’ve already lost people close to me. I lost my sister without answers. I’ll never get those answers. I could have done something—”
“Fred, you don’t—
“I was supposed to be watching her.” It was a truth I hadn’t spoken to anyone in years. “She was my responsibility then. Just like you’re my responsibility now.”
“Fred.” His voice was gentler this time. He touched my cheek. “I’m not a child. You’re not responsible for me—”
“But, I am. This only happened to you because of me.”
Displaced responsibility was something we had a history of arguing. Hassan considered something for a moment before that smug, sideways grin crept back onto his face. “Oh. I get it.”
“Get what?” I asked, because I had the feeling he did not get it.
“You’re worried about me because you care about me.”
I pursed my lips. “Was that not already obvious?”
“I’m not going anywhere, Fred.” Hassan’s fingers on my cheek drifted down to my chin, holding it place as he brought his mouth close to mine. His breath skittered against my lips, a thin layer of goosebumps ghosting under my arms. “Even if you fired me. I’d still be here. Know why?”
I shook my head slowly, thoroughly drunk off our proximity.
“Because I care about you, too. Dumbass.”
I remembered wh
at he’d said in the kitchen—I want to take you apart properly. I wanted him to make good on his promise. “Do you want me?” I asked again, voice just a shaking whisper between us.
His lips brushed over mine, so close I could feel the words as he spoke. “Yes.” It took little more than that, just a gentle push for our lips to connect slower than any other time we had kissed. In the otherwise silent room, I could hear only the sound of Hassan breathing and the sounds of our lips meeting and parting, slotting together and growing more languid than the last.
I tilted my head to deepen the kiss, tongue flicking suggestively against his.
Hassan’s hands made themselves welcome on my body, one resting on my hip while the other slid beneath my loose shirt, white and thin. To feel his rough hands touch me so teasingly, skimming up my spine and back down again, was the sweetest kind of torture; he could break me, if he wanted—I shuddered at the thought, part of me wanting it to come true—or he could slowly pick me apart. And the barest suggestion of skin against skin was erotic enough for my cock to rouse in my pants, hardening with the slow beat of our kiss.
I pushed back the blankets, disappointed to find Hassan did in fact wear pants to sleep in, though little else. The tent in his sweatpants was obvious and I wasted no time, my hands returning to where they had been exploring in the kitchen, palming the outline of his cock through the thin fabric.
“Fuck….” The kiss only broke on that word, a thin string of spit breaking between our lips.
I stared at him with lidded eyes, his hands tracing along my back—pushing the fabric of my shirt up. I raised my arms, allowing him to peel the shirt away, shivering once it was tossed aside. Hassan kept his room colder than mine. That was fine, though; I’m sure I’d be warm again soon enough.
“You drive me crazy,” he muttered, dipping his head lower, lips trailing down my neck and collarbone, down my chest, and—
“Ahh, Ha-Hassan….” I drew in a long gasp, his lips sealed around my nipple, tongue tracing the brown of it before moving onto the other, lavishing it in the same attention. My fingers threaded into his hair, tightening into a harsh fist as he bit at my chest.
Fuck me. The thought was clear in my mind. My cock spoke for me, his hand massaging it through the fabric of my jeans. I arched into his touch—how long had it been? How badly had I wanted him to do this?—caring very little about what sounds I made. His lips traced lower, lower, almost low enough, before detouring, back up, away from where I suddenly so desperately wanted his mouth.
By the time he reached my lips again, my breathing was heavier than when we had started. He grinned. “You’re a little too excited, Reyes,” his voice rough around its edges with want, teasing.
I huffed a half-laugh, drawing our lips together; his hands slid along the muscle in my chest, my back as my fingernails scratched delicious patterns into his scalp. I would have been content with kissing all night had my cock not ached so badly—and I found myself in a very interesting position, perched on the edge of his bed.
Slowly I slid from where I sat down towards the floor and his lips followed until they could no longer reach, disconnecting with a breathy click.
He narrowed his eyes down at me as I settled onto my knees on the floor. “What... are you doing?”
“Making you feel better,” I hummed, blinking up at him from my lidded lashes and he grinned, catching the implication with ease. His legs swung off the bed on either side of me. I ran my hands over his body as he settled his weight back onto his hands—up his thighs, over the sturdy muscles of his calves and there were scratches there, old and new scars, evidence of his devotion. He was willing to hurt for me; willing to keep me safe. I couldn’t repay him enough.
But, this wasn’t about repayment. This was about pleasure.
He aided my in peeling away his sweatpants and I tossed them to the side not giving a single fuck as to where they’d end up. Hassan didn’t wear boxers—or anything else, really—under his sweatpants. I filed that information away as his cock bobbed in front of my face, already red and wet at the tip.
“Excited, aren’t we?” I hummed and Hassan’s fingers thread easily into my hair, his voice half-warning, half-asking as it made up my name.
I brought my mouth close to the tip, parting my lips—only to blow cool air at the tip instead, his body twitching at the sensation. I chuckled, and he groaned—maybe in pleasure, maybe in embarrassment, maybe both—and I busied myself with mouthing along his inner thighs, licking closer and closer each time to his cock. I was enjoying myself too much and he knew it.
Again, warningly, he said my name, “Fred,” and that was close enough to the magic word for me to dip my head in earnest, tongue lapping in long strokes, the warmth of his cock against so close to my mouth intoxicating. Untouched in my pants, my own member ached for some relief, but I set it aside taking to the underside and lapping messily from base to tip.
His hand tightened harshly in my hair, drawing a sharp groan from my chest. Tonguing the slit, I tasted him for the first time, precum beading at the pressure. “Fred, fuck—just—” And whatever he was about to say evaporated, turning into a heady groan as my lips parted around him, bobbing slowly and taking in more of him each time.
My lips sealed around him tightly, sucking and holding the pressure as best as I could, my hand busying itself with massaging his balls. I wanted to swallow him, choke on him, be surrounded by him. I moaned slowly around him; his hips jumped slightly at the vibrations it brought, cock sliding deeper down my throat—too far. I drew off of him, saliva dripping slightly from the corner of my mouth.
When I looked at him again, he looked more wrecked than when I had started. His chest was heaving slightly and the twisted bliss was evident on his face, in his darkened eyes.
Hassan leaned forward, his thumb brushing at the wetness on my lips. My eyes fluttered shut and I opened my mouth to it, sucking the finger into my mouth, mimicking what I had just done to him. He groaned again as I drew off with a suggestive pop.
“Come up here,” he mumbled, less of a command and more just… saying it because he wanted it. I crawled up onto his bed, the springs creaking loosely under our combined and shifting weight. He laid me on my back and I gave myself over to him; he smiled down at me, the look alone making the flare I felt in my gut grow stronger.
“Touch me,” and I was surprised at my voice. Just a hoarse whisper.
Hovering above me, he brought his lips to mine, though it didn’t last long—they traced the same trail down my chest as before, tongue snaking around my navel. I arched into the touch, his strong hands planting my hips back roughly against the mattress. Being handled like that sent a jolt of pleasure down my spine.
I heard the pop of my jeans being unbuttoned. His hands followed, curling underneath them and peeling them off my legs. Muffled laughter was exchanged as I tried to help him take them off of me. Eventually they were tossed aside too and he gazed down at me like he wanted to eat me. The thought was thrilling.
I parted my legs, my boxer briefs black and tight against my skin. My cock was so close to being free, it hurt. Slowly his hands traced over my arms, guiding them up and over my head.
“Keep them there.”
I nodded, crossing them at my wrists. “Promise.”
His hands wandered down my body and I curled into the touch, a light huff escaping me as he snapped the band of my boxers against my skin.
“Don’t tease,” I chided, only to be met with a sexually sadistic chuckle.
“Why not? You had no problem teasing me….”
The tempo was altered when he ripped my boxers off of me, the movement violent enough to jostle my body against the sheets. He slid them off my legs slowly, but the surprise had been enough to get my heart racing. I squirmed as he took hold of my leg, slinging it over his shoulder, muscles stretching with the motion.
Hassan kissed my knee, my thigh, my hip bone. My lips rolled together in anticipation, breath coming quicker out my nose
.
His mouth was like heaven.
Most people believed hell was full of fire, but they were wrong. Heaven was what where the fires were ignited, Hassan’s lips forming around the shape of my leaking cock, the wet heat of it searing. I was only partially aware of my mouth falling open around a broken moan, fingers fisting above my head in the cool covers.
“Hassan, fuck—”
His hand fisted at the base of my cock as he focused his attention on the head, sucking a harsh amount of pressure there and laving his tongue along the ridge. Static began to creep into my fingers, eyes screwing shut against the intensity of it.
“No—no te detengas….” My words formed themselves; I was only distantly aware of what I was saying, his mouth far more distracting. “Hassan, por favor, follame—I don’t want to wait, just fuck me—”
My cock slid from his mouth and he laughed. “You’re noisy.”
“I’m going to hit you,” though my laughter wasn’t very convincing.
“I can’t just dry fuck you,” he murmured, his fist pumping me at a painfully slow rate. Not enough to make me thoughtless, but just enough that I was struggling with words.
“There—uh, th-there’s lube, in the, uh, in the….” I waved distractedly at the attached bathroom. I missed his hands on my body as he slid off the bed. I heard the click of the lightswitch and him rummaging around; I smiled to myself as I readjusted my body on the bed, my head falling into his pillows. I could smell him in the fabric that surrounded me. I shut my eyes and breathed it in slowly, my hand fisting loosely around my cock and pumping.
He was going to fuck me. I was drunk off the idea of it.
“Jesus, Fred.”
I cracked my eyes open to find him standing in the bathroom door, lube and condoms in hand, but he was distracted by something else. I spread my legs a little wider, flashing a lazy smile. “You going to just watch me?” I asked, voice rough as I gripped my cock tighter, giving a bit of a show. “I can be quite entertaining….”
Dr. Perfect: A Contemporary Romance Bundle Page 75
