Chapter Nine
Adam
I’m grabbing water in the suite’s bathroom when there’s a knock at the door.
Snacks must be here. “Thank God,” I murmur as I go to answer the door.
Troy almost always gets the client to order some food for us. He’s good like that.
I glance into the bedroom on my way to get the door. My best friend’s already got our client tied and blindfolded, slurping on the man’s cock like he’s winning a prize.
He’s good at that, too.
Padding across the patterned carpet, I pull open the heavy door, focused more on the cart and the food than the person wheeling it in. When I finally look, I’m pleasantly surprised to see a familiar face. “Westy. Fancy meeting you here.”
“I work here,” he grumbles as he wheels in a tray. “And for the last fucking time, it’s Wes. Christ, I don’t know what it is with you guys and nicknames. My name is Wes. Not Westy. That’s worse than calling me Kitten.”
He sets the food out on the dining table with frustrated, jerky movements.
The tips of his ears are pink, which is honestly sort of cute.
My stance on him has warmed up a little since Troy’s reassurance at the mini golf place.
Now my approach is to take a page from his book, which is what I do most of the time anyway.
For example. “Got it. Kitten it is, then.”
Like I suspected might happen, that little bit of blush on the tops of his ears spreads down to his lobes. Then his cheeks. The back of his neck.
He freezes in the middle of setting a fruit and nut plate down on the table. Much to my delight. His bent position stretches the slacks he’s wearing across his ass. I’ve seen this guy in short shorts at the gym. Wes keeps himself in shape. That ass could crack walnuts.
“I’m not your fucking ki?—”
Moans from the next room bring his head around. I don’t need to look to know what he’s seeing. A pair of hairy legs spread wide on the fancy bed cover, tied down with ankle straps. Troy in between those legs, ass in the air, naked.
That ass looks especially tasty right now. I helped him wax a couple of days ago.
“You might want to mention to, uh, whoever that is, housekeeping doesn’t wash those coverlets after every guest.” Wes tries to swallow and ends up coughing. “Not the cleanest surface around here.”
“Not sure they care. Like what you see, Wes?”
“I…” He straightens, sort of half dropping the plate in his hand onto the table with a loud plink. Not that anyone in the next room notices.
The more I pay attention to Wes, the more I can tell why Troy’s into him. The world we come from is jaded and ugly. Kitten here may be older, but every time we touch or flirt with him, he’s got the wide-eyed gaze of someone who’s just discovered an ancient treasure.
Don’t think Troy and I were ever that kind of innocent. Not the way we grew up.
If only poor Wes here could fully admit he wants the treasure.
I use my thumb to point toward the other room. “’Bout to go in there and fuck him in a minute. You want to stay and watch? Client won’t notice. We’ve got him blindfolded.”
Does Wes realize the way he’s licking his lips?
“N-no. I—I’m working.” He turns to look at the scene in the bedroom. “You’re going to fuck Troy? He doesn’t seem like…”
It’s almost as if he’s too distracted looking at Troy’s ass to finish his thought.
Taking a step closer, I can’t help but chuckle at the look on this guy’s face. Half wonder, half anger. I’d almost say he’s jealous, but I can’t imagine that’s true. Not after a couple of quickies. Not with whores. Nobody’s ever been jealous over us. Not even my sort-of not-really girlfriend.
“You’re wondering if Troy’s a bottom?” Taking a page from Troy’s book, I crowd into Wes’s space more. All I’m wearing right now is one of those free cushy hotel robes, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
Wes’s not much taller, but I like that he’s got a couple of inches on me. When I lean in, there’s a subtle whiff of cologne.
“Here’s a secret, Kitten. Most of the time, we’re whatever we get paid to be.” Slowly, deeply, I breathe in through my nose, filling my nostrils with canned hotel air and one skittish night manager.
“Troy’s right,” I murmur into his ear. “You do smell good.”
“If… Uhm…” Now that I’m so close to Wes, I can hear each shallow breath. The wet swallows. The rustling of his pants as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
Kitten’s nervous. And a little horned up, methinks.
“If?” I slide my fingers over the back of one hand. He doesn’t react.
For the first time since I sucked him off in that closet, he meets my eyes. “If you’re whatever you get paid to be, what the hell are you two doing with me?”
The question is a gut punch I don’t expect. Not that I blame Wes for his mistrust. We’re in a business built on lies. How can I expect him to see things the way we do?
I’m still breathing through the sting when he continues. “You guys give me shit because I tried to get Fallon to dump PJ. I can admit that I was wrong, but when it came to my lonely, wealthy, widowed brother dating a broke twenty-something sex worker, I stand by my concerns.”
Honestly, it’s hard to hate him with that look on his face. A fierce protector, our kitten.
“That first time when we fucked with you at the gym, it was different. That was to get under your skin. You may not realize it, but you used to look at all of us like we were gum under your shoe. We don’t tolerate haters.
But the thing is, Kitten, Troy’s been feeling you out.
Turns out, you’re sooo fun to fuck with. ”
“Oh. Well. Great.” He scoffs. “As long as you’ve got a good reason.”
“You really don’t get it.” My fingers slide up to his right wrist, tracing the tendons just under the cuff of his dress shirt. “Do you see that in there?” I gesture to where my friend is going for a solid gold medal at sucking dick.
My friend even pulls off long enough to give our client, Mr. Rigby, a smooth line about how his dick “tastes so fucking good.”
“Fake as hell.” I lean in, lowering my voice. “Boring. Routine. Slobber on one wealthy asshole’s knob, you’ve slobbered on them all. Trust me.”
Wes runs his free hand down the side of his face. “I don’t even know how to respond to that. I don’t even know what it means.” He’s so flustered right now.
“Let me give you a demonstration, Kitten.” I tug on my robe sash with one hand and his wrist with the other. He follows easily when I bring his fingertips to my abs. Only a sharp intake of his breath and parted lips. He tries to suppress a shiver, but he can’t.
“The way you’re reacting to me right now? That’s real.”
I’m taking a risk when I guide Wes’s hand downward.
sliding it over my abdomen, my happy trail, and down to my cock.
My heavy breath is full of desire and relief when he wraps his fingers around me and begins to pump with slow, steady strokes.
It also doesn’t take much to get me hard, the way he’s looking at my dick like it’s got him in a trance.
Heh.
I put my lips to his ear. “You have no idea how fucking sexy it is to see you flustered and fascinated when one of us touches you, Kitten. The way you look with your hand on me now? Eyes all wide? You’re like a wild animal raised in captivity, and you’re finally discovering the colorful expanse of the outside world, yeah?
A little terrified. A lot excited. Super fucking horny. ”
“Wild animals get horny?” He barely breathes the words, still focused on jacking my dick. My hand rests lightly over his. He could pull away if he wanted, but he doesn’t.
“Someone needs to watch a nature documentary.”
“I don’t…” He shakes his head, like he doesn’t even know what he was about to say.
Wes’s fingers brush under my head, where it’s sensitive. We both moan, and at that moment what’s got me captivated isn’t his hand but his face. When he looks at me, it’s with hooded lids and his tongue tracing over his lips.
As I’m locked here in the world’s hottest staring contest, I’m not sure anymore who’s in control. I thought it was me, but Wes’s gaze has me trapped.
Seeing this hot-as-fuck older man in his respectable khakis and navy tie, jacking me in the middle of doing his job?
I get it now, what Troy was saying. It scrambles my brain a little bit.
“You get what I’m talking about now? The way I respond to you, the way you respond to me? That’s different. Troy and I get paid to be a fantasy. We’re expensive performance art. You know that much, because you hired a male escort to lay your brother. But we’re still people. You? This? That’s real.”
His sharp inhale? The nervous working of his throat? Fucking delicious.
“Of course we like fucking with you,” I murmur. “Of course we want to do it again and again. How could we not?”
There’s a little walkie-talkie deal clipped to his belt. It makes some noise before a tinny voice asks, “Mr. Monroe, could you come to the front desk, please?”
The trance is broken. Wes pulls his hand away from my dick so fast you’d think it bit him.
“What the fuck am I doing?” He stumbles backward toward the door. There’s a moment when his arm twitches, like he might be about to reach for me again, but in the end he shakes it off. “Jesus. I need to go.”
My hand goes to my chest, to the sudden soreness in its center. “Too bad. Maybe next time you can stay and watch.”
Then I drop my robe to the floor right in front of him. The heavy fabric hits the floor with a quiet thump. With a grin, I turn to join Troy and Mr. Rigby in the bedroom.
A strained groan follows me out of the room. I don’t see Wes’s eyes on my ass as I walk away, but I know they’re there.