Chapter 92

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Now that all the excitement was subsiding, the ache in my ass became much more noticeable, and I shifted uncomfortably. Jesus Christ, I had actually let Mark Vincent fuck me. I couldn’t believe it. I had gone to his apartment intending to get him drunk, maybe even to fuck him myself. How had the tables been turned on me?

I hadn’t intended to offer him my mouth, but his kisses—I’d expected them to be rough, controlling, or sloppy at best. I detested being slobbered over.

I should have known a man like Mark Vincent would kiss well.

But how could I have let myself get carried away like that?

I didn’t notice the cab had stopped until the driver leaned over the back of his seat to say around a toothpick, “We’re here, Mac. You wanna pay me?”

“Sorry.” I glanced at the meter and reached for my wallet, then paid him and got out.

I disarmed my security system, let myself in, and reset it. Not even with Vincent on my mind would I neglect something like that.