Lunatic, page 19
Archer inhaled sharply as Mac leaned forward, his lips skimming Archer’s belly, his breath tickling the hair there. Archer squeezed the towel tighter.
“What are you doing?” Archer asked, trying to sound disapproving.
Mac chuckled, fingertips skimming his sides until the muscles beneath flinched involuntarily. “What’s it look like, Katniss?”
“Like you’re trying to get laid while I’m trying to dry your hair,” Archer murmured.
Once more, that infuriating chuckle. “I’m simply showing my appreciation for your kind gesture,” Mac countered before placing an open mouth kiss over Archer’s hip bone, then again just above his belly button.
Christ, Archer was already half-hard. “The motivation for drying your hair is selfish. I don’t want to sleep on wet sheets.”
Mac’s hands were suddenly at the back of Archer’s knees, applying just enough pressure to force them to give. Luckily, Mac’s lap was there to catch him. Archer found himself staring into those golden eyes and let himself get lost in them for just a moment or two.
“You were going to be sleeping in a wet spot regardless, Katniss,” Mac teased.
Archer snorted, mood broken, dropping the towel on top of Mac’s head like a nun’s habit. “That is not the line you think it is.”
Mac left the towel where it was, wrapping his arms around Archer and giving him a hungry look. “You don’t want me inside you?” he asked, voice a low purr.
That was a stupid question. Archer never didn’t want Mac. But he didn’t say that. Instead, he asked, “What if I want to be inside you?”
For the first time since they’d locked eyes in that bar, Archer got to see Mac look thrown, his eyes widening, lips parting involuntarily. Archer took advantage, crashing their mouths together, his tongue dipping inside. Mac’s lips were soft and warm, and his tongue tasted like spearmint toothpaste. Not even the cold, wet tendrils of Mac’s hair poking at Archer could stop the surge of want that spiked in him.
When he pulled back, he studied Mac’s face. He’d said it on a whim, but now, Mac was watching him, studying his face like he was trying to find a deeper meaning to the question when there really wasn’t one. More just a curiosity, an open door for a later date if he wasn’t open to it now.
But Mac leaned forward, kissing the corner of Archer’s mouth. “Sure, Katniss. We can do that.”
It was only after he said it that Archer realized it did matter. He didn’t know how or why, but Mac agreeing to it, no matter how trivial it was, meant more than Archer was willing to admit. His lips found Mac’s once more, the kiss softer, deeper, more intense.
Archer stood so Mac could move farther up onto the pillows, then followed him down, kneeling between his open knees and tugging open the towel. He took a moment to appreciate the view. Fair skin and freckles, so many freckles they blended together in spots to form abstract patterns that Archer couldn’t help but trace with his fingers.
He paused at a large inkblot-like mass of freckles next to Mac’s belly button, tracing it with his fingers until Mac grunted. He was clearly ticklish. Archer filed that information away for another time before fanning his fingers over Mac’s abdomen, a little obsessed with the contrast of his skin against Mac’s.
When Archer peeled off his shirt, Mac laced his hands behind his head, watching him from beneath long, pale lashes.
Archer kneeled over him, bracing himself on his hands so he could kiss whatever skin he could reach. He’d never done this before. All the times they’d had sex in the past, their interactions were heated, frantic, tearing at each other until they were both satisfied. Mac had always taken control, had almost always made it about pleasing Archer. This was the first time Archer got to do whatever he wanted to Mac. And he wasn’t squandering it.
He skimmed his fingertips along Mac’s ribs, his tongue teasing over one flat nipple, cock throbbing when Mac groaned. Archer sucked at the peak, then scraped over it with his teeth until Mac bucked beneath him. Archer grinned, giving the other nipple the same attention, before sliding lower, running his tongue along the ridges of Mac’s abs.
Mac bucked beneath him once more. “You’re killing me, Katniss.”
Archer settled between his legs. “You’ll live,” he murmured, mouth watering at the sight of Mac’s flushed cock, already leaking. He’d never wanted anybody as bad as he wanted him.
He couldn’t stop himself from taking Mac into his mouth, tongue teasing at his slit, moaning at the taste of his precum.
Mac’s large hand cupped Archer’s head in a possessive gesture, his hips rolling upwards, pressing his cock deeper. “Christ.”
Archer moaned around him, bobbing his head a few times, appreciating the heavy weight of his cock on his tongue. He couldn’t help it. Whenever Mac took charge, Archer’s instinct was to give in. But not this time.
He pulled free of Mac’s cock with an almost obscene pop. “Lube.”
Archer tried not to laugh as Mac stretched, blindly slapping at the side table to find the lube they’d used earlier. Archer took the time to kiss along the seam where Mac’s hip and thigh met, smiling when he let his leg fall open to give him better access. So accommodating.
Archer nosed at Mac’s balls, pushing his legs open farther, hissing when the cold plastic of the lube bottle slapped against his bare arm. Mac snickered, but then moaned as Archer spread him open, his tongue licking over his hole. He tasted like skin and smelled like some kind of spicy soap, and Archer couldn’t help but bury himself there.
Mac’s hands were back in his hair, his hips arching up to get Archer right where he wanted him. Archer let him guide him, tongue probing, then licking, biting, sucking—anything to keep Mac making those sounds.
But Mac was growing impatient. When his hand left Archer’s hair to wrap around his cock, Archer batted his hand away. “Uh uh.”
“Hurry up, Katniss.”
Archer laughed, then grabbed the lube, coating his fingers, massaging over Mac’s entrance a few times before he finally slid inside. Christ, he was tight. His body sucked Archer’s fingers deeper, like he was always meant to be there. His cock throbbed. He no longer wanted to take his time, just rip off his clothes and drive into him.
Instead, he twisted and scissored his fingers, fucking them in and out until Mac growled, “Enough. Christ. I’m not a virgin.”
Archer snickered, pulling free, standing only long enough to shed his clothes. Before he could return to the bed, Mac sat up, snagging him and taking him to the mattress in one smooth motion that made him dizzy. Before he could even guess his motives, he was straddling Archer’s hips, grabbing the lube.
Archer got to watch as Mac went up onto his knees then sank down onto his cock. He couldn’t stop the low groan that escaped as the tight heat of Mac’s body enveloped him. “Sorry, Katniss, you were taking too long.”
Mac took himself in hand, stroking a few times before he started to move. Archer bit down on his lip, praying this wasn’t over embarrassingly fast. Mac looked good riding him. He also had rhythm, his hips rising and falling in a perfect tempo that shot pulses of ecstasy along his nerve endings until he was driving up to meet each downward motion.
Unlike Archer, Mac had no intention of dragging this out, it seemed. He was working himself like a man on a mission and, for once, Archer appreciated his precision and timing because he was seconds away from coming. But he wanted to feel Mac come first.
Just when Archer had resorted to thinking about crime scene photos to ward off his impending orgasm, Mac’s movements became jerky and uncoordinated. He hissed then grunted, spilling over his fist onto Archer’s skin.
“Thank fuck,” Archer managed, grabbing Mac’s hips and holding him steady so he could fuck up into him, thrusting only a couple more times before he was coming hard enough to see stars, his whole body contracting as he emptied himself inside him.
Mac collapsed on top of him, burying his face in the side of his neck. “I need another shower after that.”
Archer shoved at Mac’s shoulder but he was dead weight. “How have I never noticed how heavy you are?”
“Beats me,” Mac said, making zero attempt to move.
“Get off. You’re suffocating me,” Archer said, wiggling ineffectively, though not trying very hard to free himself.
Mac gripped his wrists, then began to rub his wet hair all over Archer’s chest. “Better?”
Archer wrenched his wrists free and poked his fingers into Mac’s ribs, twisting until he began to shout and squirm, attempting to subdue Archer’s wrists once more. But though Mac was bigger, Archer was faster, his hands always just out of reach as he tickled Mac until he was laughing shrilly in a not at all manly fashion that only made Archer laugh in an equally unflattering manner until they were both sweating and panting.
“I surrender,” Mac finally cried. “You win. I’ll move.”
He didn’t move far, just shifted his weight until he was only half draped over him. They just laid there like that for a while before Mac finally asked, “What did Thomas have to say?”
“The usual. Go ahead and torture the guy, just don’t get caught.”
Mac made a noncommittal sound. “What about the wife and the kid? Did he say how we handle that?”
“The wife’s fair game. If she’s keeping that little girl as a domestic slave, we can take her out, too. Calliope’s concern is we don’t know how corrupt the local law enforcement is or how long it will be before someone notices Boseman and his wife are missing. We can’t leave the girl to fend for herself.”
Mac lifted his head to meet Archer’s gaze. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Adam and Noah are going to wait until we’ve acquired the targets and then they’ll take the girl and get her somewhere safe with people Dad trusts to find a safe place for her.”
Mac looked sad, but then he dropped his head to Archer’s shoulder once more. “It sucks that she has to go through all this.”
“I know,” Archer said.
And he did know. He didn’t exactly identify with what the girl had to go through. He couldn’t. He understood it in the same abstract way he’d experienced his own trauma as a child. He recognized the unpleasantness he’d endured but it didn’t penetrate his psyche the way it probably did others. He didn’t ache for what the girl had endured. Not like Mac. That was just the nature of his psychopathy.
Still, his hand came up to comb through Mac’s still damp hair, noting it was starting to curl. Did Mac’s hair curl when he wasn’t forcing it into a style? How had he never noticed that? Oh, right. Because they barely knew each other. It didn’t feel like that was true, but in the grand scheme of things, it was.
“If the girl is there, we’ll get her somewhere safe,” he assured Mac.
“What if we can’t get Boseman to talk?” Mac asked. “What then?”
Archer gave a grim smile Mac couldn’t see. “He’ll talk. They always talk.”
“How can you be so sure?” Mac asked, words vibrating off his skin.
“Because Dad’s sending in reinforcements.”
“Reinforcements?” Mac parroted.
Archer’s fingers threaded through Mac’s hair again reflexively. “Yeah, he’s sending the twins… And they’re bringing along some new toys.”
Mac woke up alone, sheets tangled around him. He rolled onto his back, stretching until his joints cracked and popped, then grabbed his phone. It was almost nine in the morning. He stood, shoving his legs into a pair of sweatpants and throwing on the sleeveless black hoodie that happened to be at the top of his bag before stumbling into the kitchen.
Noah sat at the breakfast table, headphones in, a half-eaten piece of toast in front of him as he listened attentively to something, scribbling down notes. He gave Mac a small wave of acknowledgement. Mac nodded in return, heading for the coffee pot, relieved when he saw it was already full. He poured himself a cup, then took a long sip, letting the bitter liquid burn its way down before dropping into a chair beside Noah.
“Where’s Archer?” he finally asked.
Noah pulled a headphone free. “Huh?”
“Archer?” Mac repeated.
“Oh, outside with Adam. They’re bringing in some of the toys we brought along from home.”
Mac nodded, returning to his coffee cup, content to stare at nothing as Noah worked. The front door opened and Archer entered, carrying a large red storage container that he dropped just inside the door. He smiled when he saw Mac, walking up behind him before leaning over and kissing the side of his neck in a way that shot goosebumps along Mac’s skin.
“You’re up,” he murmured against his ear.
You have no idea. Mac adjusted himself under the table, flushing when Noah smirked like he could sense his discomfort.
Adam walked over to Noah, grabbing the back of his chair and dragging it out before plopping his large frame into Noah’s lap. To his credit, the boy just wrapped his arms around him and continued with his work, clearly used to the distraction.
Archer sat beside Mac. “The twins will meet us at the Boseman residence after dark. Once we determine they’re alone, we’ll subdue him and the wife and Noah and Adam will take the little girl to meet Calliope’s contact and make sure she’s safe.”
Mac grunted, still not feeling awake enough to communicate with any real efficiency.
Somewhere, a phone began to buzz. Everybody reached for their pockets except Mac. He’d left his phone in the bedroom. The ringing phone was Archer’s. He glanced at the name on the screen, then swiped to answer, hitting speaker before setting the phone on the table. “You’ve got all of us, Calliope.”
“Good. I really don’t want to have to play this more than once.”
“Play what?” Noah asked, removing his headphones and reaching for his toast.
“I’ve been monitoring the bug in Egan’s office. He made this phone call last night. Just listen. Tell me what you make of it.”
Mac didn’t really know Calliope, but her grim tone seemed to make the others uneasy. That didn’t bode well for whatever it was they were about to hear.
Even with the speaker turned to top volume, they had to lean in. The nasally whine was unmistakingly Egan’s. “Hey, we gotta talk.”
When there was no audible response, Mac surmised the bug was picking up a phone call between Egan and someone else. His gaze met Archer’s.
“Yeah, so Terrance confirmed the livestock for the auction will arrive on time as promised. Yeah, all present and accounted for. Fifteen workhorses. Ten brood mares. Eight foals. Five fillies. Three colts. But…” He trailed off. “Now, don’t get mad…but we lost the special request.”
The irritated sound he made let them know that whoever was on the other end had not heeded his request. “I know the buyer had their heart set on that particular…foal, but she dropped early. Too early. The foal didn’t make it.”
Mac frowned as he listened to what seemed like a fairly standard conversation one might have in a small Texas town. There were horse farms all over the state. Hell, they’d passed several on the way home just last night. Mac imagined livestock auctions were also a fairly common practice as well.
Still, he figured Calliope had sent this to them for a reason. Egan’s breaths grew slightly erratic, like he was nervous or maybe growing angry. Mac wished he could hear both sides of the conversation.
They sat in silence until whoever was on the other end of the call finished and Egan said, “We have five other mares ready to drop any day now. Surely, one of those will be enough to—I understand he chose that mare in particular, but these things can’t be helped. It’s biology. He wanted a bab—foal, so he’ll get one. Just because it’s not the one he wanted doesn’t mean we’re reneging on our end.”
Mac’s gaze shot to Archer’s once more. Baby? There was something about the slip up that sent a shiver of unease down Mac’s spine. But he didn’t have time to voice his concerns because Egan was whining again.
“This isn’t fucking Build-A-Bear. Shit happens. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to procure, inseminate, and house these breeders? The amount of man hours I waste on this little side project of yours?” He was growing heated. “No, you don’t get to say that. You just have to smile and bat your lashes and forge some documents. I’m the one dealing with the crying and the hysterics and the whining. You have your daddy to protect you. I’m on my own.”
Once more, he fell silent. Noah and Mac sat, tense, waiting until Egan spoke again.
His response was explosive. “Goddamn, woman, stop nagging. What do you want me to do about it? It ain’t my fault. Even the best breeders lose one every now and again.”
Mac’s stomach churned at the term breeder. Somehow, he didn’t think they were talking about livestock anymore. Noah’s face contorted in disgust and he pushed his toast away. Mac didn’t blame him. He suddenly had no appetite either. What the fuck were these guys doing?
“What do you want me to do? Tell Merk—” Egan seemed to catch himself. “Tell the client that we will give him top pick of the next drop and offer a partial refund for his trouble. If he doesn’t like it, then he can wait for us to start the whole process over again if he’s insistent on having the same bitch as last time. Those are his options.”
Mac rubbed his temples as Egan fell silent, the only sound his chair squeaking as he seemed to rock compulsively back and forth. Then, he said, “Christ, Desiree, this whole thing was your fucking idea. You’re the one who wanted to expand the operation. We were doing just fine with the domestic supply chain. But no, you just had to go designer.”
Noah frowned. “Desiree?”
“Egan’s stepsister. Married to that immigration attorney,” Mac supplied. “Dad’s some kind of Texas big shot.”
Noah gave a slight nod as Egan said, “Thanks to my guys, the bloodline should be sufficiently diluted, but DNA is tricky. Sometimes, no matter how much white you add, the colors still come out…muddy.”
