Played: Manhattan Ruthless - 53

Chapter

Fifty-Two

A s planned, Mason and I paid a visit to Charlie, and he was very interested to hear what I had to say. We also passed on the details of Nathan’s contact at the DA’s office, who had already been briefed on the situation. Charlie was confident he’d have a warrant by end of day tomorrow.

Afterward, we visited Curtis Jones. He sobbed in my arms when I told him what I’d discovered, and he’s eager to witness the public downfall of the Worthingtons. He also swore he’d take matters into his own hands if the justice system failed him, and I can’t say I blame him. While he was devastated about his little girl’s murder, there was an underlying layer of relief that he finally knew the truth and that the world would soon know too.

It was a difficult day. Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually. It’s not easy confronting the fact that your parents are murderers. I don’t know how I would have gotten through it all without Mason. He’s been incredible throughout everything.

We got back to his place a few hours ago, and he insisted on making me dinner. A delicious Moroccan lamb dish that Maddox taught him to cook, and he kindly dropped off the ingredients for it while we were out. I really could get used to this whole having brothers thing.

Mason is clearing the dishes now, having insisted I need to rest. I watch him press buttons on the dishwasher to find the right cycle and stuff my hands into my pockets—rather, his pockets, as I’m wearing his sweatpants—and admire him. The muscles in his back and shoulders flex with every move he makes, and his jeans cling to his perfect ass.

He is sheer fucking perfection. It’s hard to believe I wasted so much of my life without him in it.

But perhaps we had to go through everything we did in order to end up right here. And despite my throbbing head and injured knee and the pain of everything we’ve endured, there’s nothing I would change. I wouldn’t risk a different outcome. The butterfly effect, I’ve heard it’s called. I would do nothing to jeopardize my chance of being here with him at this exact moment in time.

He turns around and catches me staring at him. “See something you like?”

“I see everything I like, baby. Get your ass over here.”

He strolls toward me, licking his lips. Tease. “I’m pretty sure the doc said you should be resting today. No sudden or jerky movements.” He smirks.

“She absolutely did not say that. Besides …” I fist a hand in his hair and yank his head back. “I don’t plan on any sudden, jerky movements.” I skim my hand down his abdomen and squeeze his hardening length over his jeans. “They’ll be slow and controlled, baby.” I press my mouth against his ear and feel the shiver that runs down his spine. “It will be you who won’t be able to control your movements when your cock is in my mouth.”

He hisses out a breath. “Fuck.” Shaking his head hard, he takes a step back. “But no.”

“No?” I’m too shocked to say anything else. Is he being a brat, or is he actually refusing me?

He nods toward the floor. “Your knee is hurt, Hotshot. And you’ve already done more than you should have today.”

Kneeling on this tile would hurt like a motherfucker, but I ache to make him lose control the way I can when I’m on my knees for him. However, he has a point. And a very comfortable bed. “I don’t have to be on my knees to suck your cock.”

He trails his fingertips down my cheek. “But that’s how I want you, King. On your knees for me while I fuck your throat.”

My stiff cock hardens further at the image he invokes.

“So until your knee is better, how about we switch?” He’s already sinking to the floor, grazing his fingertips over my hard shaft. “Because this looks painful too.” When he’s in position, he pulls down the waistband of my pants, and my aching dick bobs free. With a flick of his expert tongue, he licks away the precum weeping from the crown and groans with satisfaction.

My hand still fisted in his hair, I hold his head in place and guide my crown to his lips. He kisses the tip before opening wide and letting me slip inside his warm, welcoming mouth, gliding his skillful tongue along the underside of my shaft.

Pleasure ignites in my core. “Fuck, Mase, you suck my cock like such a good boy.”

He catches my eye and winks, and it’s enough to make my knees tremble.

I cup his jaw while I fuck his perfect mouth, sinking deep into his throat. I wipe away any tears that are squeezed from his eyes with the pad of my thumb and watch his face, loving the way his eyelids flutter when I praise him. Losing myself in the contented noises he makes as he takes every inch of me.

“You’re fucking perfect, baby. Fucking perfect and all fucking mine.” I pull out and drive inside him. He swallows, and his throat muscles squeeze the tip of my dick, sending me hurtling over the edge. I come with a groan of his name, and my entire body spasms while I empty myself inside him.

Once he’s all but sucked the soul from my body, he stands and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before kissing me. Relishing the taste of myself on him, I tangle my tongue with his. When he pulls back, I’m left breathless and wanting more. “Are you up to being bent over this table and fucked?” he asks.

I want to be fucked over that table more than I’ve ever wanted to be fucked on or over anything in my life. Submissive or dominant, I’ll take Mason any way, anywhere. “Hell yeah.”

“That’s my boy.” His grin is cocky as fuck, but I love it.

He spins me to face the table and pushes me forward. I rest my weight on my forearms while he spreads my ass cheeks and spits on my hole, and my spent cock twitches back to life. Mason slides a finger inside me, and I groan at the intrusion. Despite what people think, spit is a pretty terrible substitute for actual lube. At least for a dick in the ass. A finger, I can cope with.

He works his finger in and out of me, massaging my prostate while he rubs his other hand down my back. “Fuck, King, this is such a tight ass.”

He disappears, and I glance behind me to watch him take a bottle of olive oil from the cupboard.

I rest my face back on the smooth wood. “That better be extra virgin.”

“Solo lo mejor para mi rey.” He slaps my ass and rests his lips against my ear. “You know what that means?”

Warm oil drips down my ass crack, and all I can do is groan and shake my head.

“Only the best for my king. Because you are mine.” He works a finger inside me. “Better?”

“Uh-huh.” So much fucking better. I grind against him, and he adds a second finger. He teases me until it’s no longer enough. “Fuck me, Mase.”

He laughs. “So greedy for my cock.”

A frustrated growl tumbles from my lips, and that only makes him laugh again. But he takes pity on me, and only a second later, his fingers are replaced by his slippery cock. He sinks all the way inside and mutters a curse in Spanish. “You’re going to be so fucking messy when I’m done with you, mi amor.” He presses his sinful lips to my ear, his chest bearing down on me and pushing me harder into the table. “Are you gonna let me take care of you when I’m through fucking you? I want to run you a bath and clean you all over.”

He pulls out, and the sound I make can only be described as a whimper.

He slaps my ass again, harder this time. “Are you?”

I hate being taken care of, but for him, I can loosen the reins a little. “Yes.”

“Buen chico,” he growls, and fuck, it undoes me when he calls me good boy in Spanish. “You think you can come again for me?” He reaches around me and works me over while he fucks me on top of the table we ate dinner on. It doesn’t take long before he coaxes another orgasm from me, and I spill cum all over his hand at the same time he empties himself inside me. My thighs are still shaking when he slides out of me and pulls my pants back into place.

I sink down on the chair beside us and pant for breath. “Fuck.”

He crouches between my spread thighs and rests his hand on the side of my neck. It’s covered in olive oil and my cum, but I’m past caring. “You okay, babe? Did I go too rough? You need some pain meds?”

I shake my head. “No. It was …” I swallow down a knot of emotion. I feel so much of everything when I’m with him, and after years of conditioning myself to feel nothing at all, it’s going to take some getting used to. “It was amazing. I just need to stop my head from spinning, that’s all.”

His face lights up with a smile. “Oh.” He stands and gently kisses my forehead. “I’m going to run us a bath while you come back down to earth then.”

He walks away with a smug chuckle, and I manage to swat his ass on his way past me. What happened with my father is still there, lingering in my thoughts like a dark cloud, but I know it will pass. I finally stood up for myself and for the man I love, and nothing Kyngston Worthington III can do or say will ever hurt either of us again. Today is the start of the life I should have always had but was too afraid to fight for.