Truth Be Told (Blackbridge Security Book 4) Marie James (latest novels to read TXT) 📖

I take as much pleasure in that as I do her mouth working me over.

“Jesus, Tin.” I tangle my fingers in her hair, moving it out of the way so I can see her pink lips working over my length. “Fucking sloppy. God, I love it.”

Spit drips down my nuts, making them tighten against the tickle.

“If you want me to fuck you, you better stop. Oh, shit do that again.” She looks up, lips smiling as she traces her tongue from my balls to the tip before swallowing me down again.

“Mmm,” she moans around me, and shit I’m going to come.

“Do you want to swallow?” Her head bobs, giving me permission, and I don’t make her wait a second longer.

It takes ten minutes for my soul to reenter my body. Another five for my eyes to refocus.

And by the time I’m able to move, Tinley is snoring softly beside me.

It only takes three minutes for me to wake her up with my mouth.

We don’t get a wink of sleep the rest of the night.

***

“You look exhausted,” Flynn says as I step into the breakroom area of the office.

I grin at him, not regretting a single second of what happened last night when Tinley came home from Paddy’s.

“You don’t look much better.”

His grin is wide, telling me he probably had a night much like my own. Remington, Anna, Whitney, and even Pam all went out last night. Speaking of…

“I didn’t see Pam up front.”

“She called in hungover,” Deacon says as he walks toward me. “Said we better not mess anything up while she’s gone.”

Flynn and I chuckle, laughing harder when Wren comes in looking like he’s been on a four-day bender.

“Good night?” I ask, earning a middle finger.

“I’m fucking exhausted,” he mutters as he inches slowly toward the coffee pot.

“I think we all are,” Flynn says but that same smile is on his face. “Isn’t it awesome?”

“My balls hurt,” Wren mutters. “Why does alcohol turn women into fucking sex-crazed psychos?”

“I’m not complaining,” I tell him as I look over at Deacon. “Oh, sorry. I know Anna can’t drink, so—”

“If you think it takes alcohol to get my wife—you know what? Not your business.” He looks over at Wren. “Did you get that list together?”

“Really?” Wren complains, his hand gripping the handle to his coffee mug as if he’s going to snatch it out from under the single-serve machine the second the last drip lands inside. “I just fucking got here.”

“And I asked for it yesterday.”

“After hours,” Wren argues. “Just because you go home and keep working doesn’t mean the rest of us do.”

“The girls went out last night. What else did you have to do?”

“First, I had to referee a damn fight. I had to bring Puff back up here because Simon kept hissing at him,” Wren says counting things off on his fingers. “Then I had to get some work done.”

“But not the things I needed?”

Wren takes a deep breath, turning around to face the coffee pot once again.

“What he’s saying is he had to glue his nose to the computer screen to keep an eye on Whitney,” Flynn says. “But seriously, thanks, man. It put my mind at ease to know you were making sure they were safe.”

“Really?” Deacon says to Flynn. “Do you really think Remington doesn’t know you were parked outside of Paddy’s the entire night?”

Flynn narrows his eyes. “Does Anna know you were in the passenger seat?”

Deacon snaps his mouth closed before looking at me.

I hold my hands up. “I knew you guys had it under control. I was at the house with Alex.”

“What are we arguing about?” Quinten asks as he walks into the room, his huge hand swiping down his long, dark beard.

He’s the only one with pep this morning and I hate how much of a morning person he always is. I know this guy would still have just as much energy if he was like the rest of us and didn’t get a wink of sleep.

“Obsessive men,” I say, feeling like a rock star but wondering if Wren is going to speak up and explain that we texted a hundred times last night as he gave me updates on the girls.

“Wren was telling me that he didn’t get to the list I needed,” Deacon adds.

“So that means we can wait for Kit to get back?”

“No. Wren’s going to get that list to me today. We won’t be delaying the new program.”

“Kit is the weapons expert,” Quinten hedges. “Maybe waiting would be best.”

Deacon narrows his eyes. Wren is normally the troublemaker in the group. Flynn balked and argued about being sent to New York a while back, but he came home in love. Quinten never argues about a job.

“What’s going on?” I ask, somehow out of the loop.

“Oh!” Wren yelps, the excitement enough to breathe a little life into his exhausted body. “Let me show you.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Quinten hisses, shoving past Wren as he pulls out his phone and begins swiping. “I haven’t gotten around to compiling the list, but I do have the graphics already up on the website.”

Deacon’s lips twitch as Wren turns his phone around for me to see.

“Really?” I look up from the phone to stare at my boss.

He’s normally so serious, but I know Anna is changing things for him. I just never thought he’d go to this extreme.

“Hashtag Blackbridge Special?”

Flynn snorts. He knows exactly where that damn viral tag came from. Remington just happens to be the daughter of a very famous TV-series couple. Her parents are awful, but their relationship was splattered all over the country, hitting the front page of gossip magazines more than once. When people found out he was hired as her babysitter/bodyguard, women came out of the woodwork wanting to work with Blackbridge. They didn’t need real help, and they were clogging up the time it took for Deacon to go through real requests.

“Is that you?” I ask, turning to face Quinten. “This is gold.”

Right on the