When the Dead Speak by Bailey Bradford (books to read to increase intelligence txt) 📗

must have been obvious, because Sev pushed himself up from the couch and stood in his sock-covered feet. A pair of soft gray sweats—Laine was betting they were Enessa’s since they didn’t swamp Sev—hugged his lover’s lean hips, clinging just enough to his package to make Laine’s cock fill in response. A thin, faded cotton shirt molded to Sev’s body, the muscular proof of his abs and chest emphasized. He was vaguely aware of Brendon asking either him or Zeke questions about what they’d found, but Laine blocked out the background noise.

Stopping inches away from Sev, Laine studied him, looking for hints that might show the man was injured worse than he’d seemed earlier. What he found was the same wild need he felt reflected in the depths of his lover’s eyes. Sev stepped forward, bridging the gap between them, and reached up to wrap his arms around Laine’s neck. Warm fingers entwined in his hair, tugging his head down even as Laine wound his arms around Sev’s waist. He slid his hands down to the sweet, firm ass he was becoming addicted to and lifted Sev until his feet left the floor. The kiss was nearly brutal, not the tender, caring kiss Laine had thought to give.

As soon as their lips touched, something sparked between them and the result was a mashing of teeth and dueling of tongues, teeth nipping ungently and hands gripping, fingers digging bruisingly into neck and ass. When it ended on a gasp for air, only then did Laine remember there were two other people in the room. He’d never been one for public displays, and when it hit him that they had an audience, Laine’s cheeks blazed hot with embarrassment. Judging by the way Sev buried his face in Laine’s neck, he figured his lover was embarrassed, too.

Steeling himself, he turned his head and found that Brendon and Zeke had left the room. Or combusted from the heat, but he wasn’t going to take the time to look for ashes. “Can you walk okay?”

Sev looked up at him through thick lashes. “The bedroom Brendon put us up in isn’t far, but you should probably keep an arm around me. Just to be safe.”

“I’m all for being safe.” Though what he felt for this man in his arms didn’t feel safe at all. It felt hot and dangerous, overpowering, something that could surely leave him bleeding from a thousand wounds—and he wasn’t going to walk away from the risk.

In the bedroom, Laine held Sev still with a hand splayed over his hip. He traced the shape of Sev’s lips with a finger, watching the man’s eyes flash with desire. He tipped Sev’s chin up and, keeping his gaze locked with Sev’s, lowered his mouth and gave a tender, searing kiss to his lover. When his tongue slicked over the roof of Sev’s mouth, Sev grabbed Laine’s shoulders and moaned. The sound and vibration of it worked through Laine’s body and threatened to snap his control, forcing him to pull back before he took Sev right then and there. He wanted more than that tonight.

Licking Sev’s lips as the kiss ended, Laine stepped back and reached for the hem of his lover’s shirt. Sev raised his arms, and Laine thought to enjoy the leisurely stripping of that compact, muscled body—until he saw the number of scratches on the chiseled torso. Breath slipping out in a hiss, Laine tossed the shirt to the floor and quickly pushed down Sev’s sweats. More stinging damage to that sweet skin had Laine cursing, vision blurring with the force of his anger.

“They’re just scratches—” Sev’s breath stuttered at the look Laine gave him. “Mostly.”

“Yeah? You look like someone held you down and tried to flay your hide. C’mon.”

Laine led Sev to the bed and nudged him until he sat. He stripped off his own clothes, his pants and boxers puddling in a pile on top of his boots and socks, his shirt landing…somewhere. After kneeling between Sev’s knees, Laine sat back on his heels and picked up one of Sev’s feet and carefully pulled off the thick sock, almost afraid of what he would find. It wasn’t good, but it was nowhere near the mangled mess he’d imagined. There were a few nicks and some obvious spots where hard and sharp objects had penetrated soft and smooth flesh. Laine stroked over the damaged sole with the barest of touches, relieved when Sev didn’t jerk back in ticklish response.

“Jesus, Laine, please.” Sev’s voice quavered, filled with longing. His eyes widened as though the depth of need in his tone startled him. That pitch slithered over Laine’s cock so that it throbbed, and he wondered if he could come from Sev’s voice alone

The other foot was treated to the same tender inspection, then Laine reached up and pushed at Sev’s chest, encouraging him to lie back. Once Sev complied, sort of—he propped himself up on his elbows so he could watch—Laine picked up Sev’s foot and began kissing each spot of ripped flesh. A shudder racked Sev and his breath became a series of moans and whimpers as Laine’s tongue gently licked the less grievous wounds. The other foot received equal care, then Laine began working his way up, nibbling and kissing, nuzzling and licking, wanting to take away each ache and replace it with pleasure.

Long licks up the outside of Sev’s thighs had him reaching to bury his fingers in Laine’s hair, and when Laine repeated the move, adding nips and sucking as he tasted the skin on the insides of Sev’s thighs, those hands tightened and tugged until Laine’s eyes watered. Scalp stinging in a way he found made his balls ache with the need for release, Laine sucked hard, bringing a deep purple mark up on the tender skin of Sev’s inner thigh. The keening noise it drew from his lover had Laine tugging at his balls, trying to stave off the need to come. He sucked and brought up