Ensnared (Brutes of Bristlebrook, #1)(119)

“No. You had your say, now you listen, you stupid, old, patronizing fuck.” I narrow my eyes on him over his palm, not at all sure about this flip in our roles. “I’ve lived through war. I’ve had my heart broken. I’ve been fucked in every hole I have. I’ve dated, and killed, and loved, and lost. I’ve survived an apocalypse. How dare you stand here and tell me I don’t know my own mind?”

He takes his hand from my mouth and smears his thumb over my lips, the way I’ve done more times than I should have.

“Do you have any idea how condescending you sound? You think we’re the first people who have ever fallen in love that shouldn’t have?” Lucien grinds his dick against me, rubbing against mine through our pants, and I can’t help my grunt. “And I’m sorry, but your wife is gone, and there’s no ethics board here to rake you over the coals. How can you say this is a lie? Do you even really believe that? No matter who you are to me, who you’ve ever been, this is real. These feelings exist whether you want them to or not. They always have.”

Enough. I move to push him off me and find that I can’t. It’s galling to admit, but he is stronger than I am. My heart pounds unsteadily. His eyes narrow on me, so close to mine. I can taste him from here.

My lips purse as I scramble for my usual cool. “Yes, Lucien, I do believe that my duty to you is real. Ethics don’t stop existing just because no one is around to enforce them. I didn’t stay away from you because I didn’t want to lose my job. I stayed away because it’s wrong. You don’t fully understand your unconscious drivers, what is pushing you toward me. And my own lust is simply a case of countertransference, responding to your infatuation. You were so young when we met, it—”

Lucien growls, and I’m a touch intrigued by this wild, angry side to him. I want to wrap a chain around his neck and force an O-ring in his mouth and hear him growl just like that around my dick.

But that would be counterproductive to this conversation.

I swallow, needing to get myself back under control. It’s utterly shredded. Having Lucien pressed against me like this is the purest torment. I’ve never allowed myself the pleasure and would never have allowed him to take it. But he is taking it.

It’s not my sin if he takes it from me, surely.

“I’m twenty-eight years old,” he says against my lips. “I’m a grown-ass man, Jasper.”

I meet his eyes, forcing steadiness I don’t feel. “And I’m forty-two. It’s no small difference, Lucien.”

“Eden’s only twenty-seven, she’s even younger than me.”

My chest squeezes at the petulance in his voice. “Eden is not, and has never been, my patient. And I wasn’t too thrilled about her age either. But it’s a moot point—there is nothing between Eden and myself.”

Lucien licks the seam of my lips, and I shudder, then glare at him for his daring.

“Liar,” he says. He rocks his hips against me again with a helpless groan. “I’ve seen you staring at her tight ass. You love her big eyes and pretty tits. You love that she’s curious and nervous and yours to do whatever you want with. You love that she’s young.”

He stares at my lips, and I’m shocked again when he reaches down and cups my cock through my slacks, running his hand jealously over the length. Impatient, he pulls down my zipper and pushes his hand inside until he finds bare flesh, like a child grasping greedily for every scrap of candy he can find while his parents aren’t looking.

My breath hisses out. There are objections, somewhere. I should stop this. But his hand squeezing my dick is strangling my brain cells.

“But this isn’t just for her. It’s mine, too. You said yourself you want me. Fuck your transference, Jasper. Life’s too short.”

He strokes me roughly, punishingly, and as he does, the pressure keeping me to the wall lessens. In seconds, I have him flipped so he’s back where he should be. Under me. His hand is still down my pants, and I wrap my hand around his throat. I barely stop my eyes from rolling back, and I can’t stop myself fucking his fist.

“I should whip you raw for grabbing me like that,” I hiss.

He gives me another long, firm stroke, and my pre-cum coats his hand. “I would have to be your submissive for you to punish me,” he taunts.

That hit lands. Hard. I’ve lost control of this conversation, this argument. Myself. I tangle my hand in his hair and wrench his head back.

Then I press our mouths together for the very first time.

It’s a relief, a break in a storm, a burst in a dam. I’m not gentle. I take his mouth with my tongue, punish it with my teeth.

Lucien kisses me back desperately, hungrily, sucking on me. His fury melts under the onslaught, and his hand stroking my dick gentles just enough to become dizzying. His beard bristles against my chin.

My orgasm builds swiftly, and I groan into his mouth. It’s been more than five years since anyone else has touched me like this. Maybe I’ve never been touched quite like this.

Lucien pushes me back again and it surprises me enough that I stumble. He drops to his knees and takes me into his scorching, soaking wet mouth before I can stop him.

Wrong. Wrong. This is all wrong. I shouldn’t let this happen.

I look down, gripping his hair, ready to tear him off me, when he looks up. Those blue eyes drown me. My dick is wet where it meets his lips, and his mouth is like a furnace. Instead of ripping him away, I fuck into him like a punishment, staring at him as he takes me. He rubs his tongue against me expertly, ravenously. Greedy, greedy boy.