An Assassin’s Deception goes live in 48hours! But Ashley and I can’t wait and have decided to share an exclusive sneak peek with you! The first chapter will only be available here for a limited time! (recommended for readers 18 and over):
One Big Happy Family
I think, by now, it’s safe to say I have a little bit of an obsession with watching Tylin jerk off. Clear water skims down the etching lines of his hard body and his arm tenses with every fluid stroke of his palm. Angling black lines of his tattoo frame his hips, drawing my attention lower. He looks controlled but relaxed all at the same time as he lifts his face to let the shower rain down on him.
And I sit perched on the bathroom sink, peering around the white curtain to get a better look like a total creep. Heat flares to life within my core as I shift, imagining how very controlled he could be between my thighs. His dark lashes open and the depths of his steely eyes lock onto mine with a look of desire and surprise. I hold his gaze even as he comes across the back of his hand. A beat passes quietly in the humid room.
“You’ve really got a thing for watching me, don’t you?” Tylin’s voice echoes around the small space.
“I think the real question is why do you like that I watch?” I tilt my head to him.
“He definitely likes you watching.” Mase bumps his hip against my leg, and I can’t help but smirk at him.
“How many fucking people are in here?” Tylin tilts his head to look past the curtain, finding only Mason and myself in the small—slightly overcrowded—bathroom.
Our new home isn’t as fabulous as our last.
“You’d been in here a while, I was starting to worry. I should have known you were just having one of your torture sessions with your dick. Why does it really take you so long?” I study every changing and hard detail of his features.
Tylin’s eyes narrow on me, his lips parting to reply, but Mase cuts him off.
“It’s a control thing, like edging or something.”
“Will you get the fuck out?” Tylin pushes open the curtain and turns off the water, exposing himself very fully to an appreciating crowd.
Well… I’m appreciative. Mason just rolls his dark eyes before stalking out of the room. The white door leading out into our loft is open, just enough for me to see Rory’s big body dozing on the couch. Morning sunlight cuts across his features, amplifying every thin scar that mars his body. The lighting falls across the old floorboards, the worn and patchy fabric of the chair, and the dusty black rug that sits in the middle of the living room. Tall windows are cut into the brick walls of the loft, and the sun lights up every inch of the open space, from the first floor to the balcony of the second.
And yet, the only thing I can focus on is the few dominating steps that bring Tylin from the shower to my little spot at the sink. The darkness of his gray eyes never leaves mine; he holds my gaze for so long I can physically feel every beat of my trembling heart. A white towel wraps snuggly around his lean hips, catching falling droplets of water and still, he leans closer to me. The swirling ink along his forearm brushes against my skin. That delicious warmth of his body surrounds me when his arms press to either side of the sink near my thighs, caging me in until his face is just an inch from mine.
“This is the only room in the house with the illusion of privacy.”
I don’t tell him that I’d gladly let him jerk off in the living room, adjoining kitchen, or even at my upstairs bedside. I keep that little desperate thought to myself.
“Please make a habit of knocking.” His serious attention skims lower as if he just realized how close his mouth is to mine.
The pink of his tongue rolls across his bottom lip and for a moment his thumbs make contact with my bare thighs, stroking slowly up and then down, creating deliciously soft friction. It’s the smallest touch, but it burns right into me until I’m shifting between his corded arms. If I tilted my chin a fraction of an inch, his mouth would be against mine.
Then he pushes away from me, putting the span of our little house between us as he, too, trails out into the quiet loft.
And I’m left listening to the hard pounding of my heart.
A pathetic breath leaves my lungs as I angle my head up to the water stains along the ceiling. Why am I like this? Why are they all so alluring and brooding, hot and cold, and infuriatingly sexy?
The door clicks closed as a figure moves in front of me, and the disappointment in me dissolves into an incessant feeling of need as my gaze meets the darkest eyes. They’re so brown they’re almost black until the light hits the amber just right. The perfect curve of Mason’s mouth tips up into a small taunting smile.
A black shirt and black jeans hug every hard inch of him, the inky color accentuating his dark hair and bronzed skin. His eyes hold nothing but heat in them.
My palms push against the countertop, and I move until I’m standing before him. Just like yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, I pull off my tee-shirt and let it drop to the tile floor. In just three quick steps his body is against mine, in another step he’s pinning me to the wall with the hard panes of his chest. Full lips seal to mine in the most perfect way. Like we were made to fit just like this. Warm hands graze over my hips, slowly skimming along my ribs, pushing firmly over my breasts until I gasp into him. My thighs lock around his narrow waist, and he holds me in place with the simple weight of his hips against mine. That’s the only thing grounding me; Mason Bothwell’s rocking hips is the only thing keeping me locked into place against the wall.
In a desperate rush, I skim my hands down his shirt and shove aside the material, trailing my fingertips over the defined muscles of his abdomen. A thin line of hair guides my fingers lower and lower until they settle on the fabric impeding our sexual progress, and I hook my fingers into his waistband. His chest shifts against me as he makes room to allow my roaming hand to slip lower.
The door creaks open slowly, and heavy footsteps fall across the bathroom floor. Pulling my lips away from Mase’s, my confused attention follows Rory’s every step as he trudges into the small space.
The two of us freeze in place, Mase’s palms against my breasts, my knuckles skimming the smooth tip of his cock.
Rory’s broad shoulders hold a careless posture. He stands in oblivious silence until the sound of piss hitting water cuts through the quietness.
“Are you seriously pissing right now?” My brows lower into a hard glare, and I burn the back of his head with a look as if he can feel the anger in my gaze.
“Yeah. You guys have been in here all morning. There’s exactly one toilet in this place. Either move the toilet or find a new place to fuck.”
Remember that time I saved his life? Remember that? The protective way I went after Armond just to save this asshole’s life is still seared into my brain. I push the recollection back in frustration, determined not to think about it.
My jaw clenches so tightly it hurts, and when Mase steps back from me, carefully lowering me to the floor, rage slams into me in his absence.
Rory adjusts himself, taking a small second to tuck his dick back into his pants before exiting the bathroom. I grab my shirt from the floor and start storming after him through the loft.
I pull the shirt back over my head but not before Jameson’s pale gaze sweeps down my chest, taking in every exposed inch of my skin.
“Tylin, if Alexa gets to be naked downstairs, then I do too.” His half smile pulls into place as he watches me stomp after his asshole friend.
“You are the biggest, most inconsiderate asshole I’ve ever met.” My anger goes unnoticed as Rory pulls a chipped mug from the cabinet and fills it to the brim with steaming hot coffee.
“From one asshole to another, I’ll take that as a compliment.” He has the audacity to raise his little mug in the air as if he’s toasting to us and our shitty personalities.
My hands press against my hips and I all but stomp with irrational anger.
Jameson’s palm suddenly slides across my stomach, splaying wide as his chest settles against my back. His closeness does something to me. It’s like his calming and carefree attitude sinks right into my being when he touches me.
“Don’t be late on your first day working with Tylin, cupcake.” Jameson leans his head against mine, his warm breath and that annoying little nickname fanning against my neck.
Fuck. He’s right.
Rory’s gleaming emerald eyes are all but laughing in my face as he crosses one ankle over the other and leans against the kitchen counter.
I pull away from the comfort of Jameson’s body and cross the last few paces that safely separates this asshole roommate from my aggression.
I glare up at Rory, realizing he’s much taller than I ever noticed.
I saved this mother fucker’s life two weeks ago, and this is the adoring thanks I get in return?
“From one asshole to another, don’t think you can out asshole me.” I’ll repay him for twat blocking me.
And I’ll do it better.
My fingers brush over his before I pull his steaming cup of coffee from his big hands and stalk away from him.
The hot liquid burns across my tongue, and I hum in approval as if it’s revitalizing every part of my soul.
It’s just another lovely day in a rundown loft in the middle of downtown Rochester. Five ex-assassins share a one bedroom space like the loving family that we are.
Until one of us kills the other that is.