Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
WYATT
I was seeing Julian again tonight. Mostly because I wanted to. I enjoyed my time with him. No, I enjoyed having sex with him. Margo and I argued over the price and how I was going to explain it to Maverick. I reminded her neither she nor Maverick was my pimp or my keeper.
I checked my reflection one last time in the bedroom. This time Julian had been clearer about what he wanted me to wear. Something that doesn’t take a lot of time to get off. So I opted for a steel gray robe and nothing else.
I could hear Jackson and Julian talking in the hall. Jackson opened the door, and Julian stepped in. He didn’t wait for Jackson to pat him down. He rushed to me, cupping my face between his hands and kissing me.
I stepped into the kiss, his hands moving to my ass, pulling me closer. This felt like a different Julian than the night before—more like a client. And maybe that was easier. Safer.
“Are you forgetting something?” I glanced over his shoulder at Jackson.
“I had him pat me down in the elevator.” He smiled, kissing the tip of my nose.
“He’s clear, Cass. You got four hours, puck boy,” Jackson said, walking into the kitchen.
“You look amazing.” He traced a finger across my collarbone. My nipples tightened at his touch. I wanted to fuck him so badly. Fucking him reminded me of what sex felt like before it was a job.
“Do you want something to drink?”
His eyes followed his finger down my chest and into my robe. His hand slid inside my robe, cupping my breast. “If I said no, would you think less of me?”
“No.” I untied the sash from my robe, letting it fall to the floor.
“Good.” Julian picked me up, his mouth on my neck as he carried me into the bedroom.
He set me on the bed, his mouth hot on my neck and then my breast as he unbuttoned his shirt.
I could hear him struggling to get out of the rest of his clothes, cursing at wearing a belt.
He pulled away long enough to finish undressing.
An ugly blue and purple bruise marred his left side.
“What happened?” My finger fluttered over the mark.
“Nothing.” He took my fingers and kissed my palm, then my wrist, guiding me back down onto the bed. He moved lower, pressing kisses along my stomach. His touch felt featherlight as he kept going. Lower. Much lower.
I should stop him. I usually didn’t let men go down on me—mostly because they weren’t good at it. And because it felt too intimate. Sucking a cock wasn’t.
“Julian.” I pushed up onto my elbows. “You don’t have to. That’s not what this is.”
My job was to please him. To make sure he walked away satisfied. Suck his cock or do whatever his wife or girlfriend wouldn’t. Not lie here like some first date.
“It’s my four hours to do with as I please.” His eyes were dark with desire. “Unless you don’t want me to.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he kissed my hip.
“God, no. It’s… I should be there, and you here.” He made it hard to say no—especially the way he looked at me from between my legs. The muscles in his shoulders pulled tight. One hand gripped my thigh.
A lazy smile crossed his mouth. “There will be plenty of time for that. Now relax, and remember, the customer is always right.”
I watched the way the light played off the muscles on his back. I’d do it this once, because that was what he wanted and I was here to give him what he wanted. And if he wanted to spend the next four hours trying to make me come, so be it. But at this rate, it wouldn’t take that long.
I felt a lightness race up my spine. It made my body feel light and my limbs sluggish. I couldn’t catch my breath, and for a moment, nothing else mattered. Hell, I couldn’t focus on anything other than his mouth, his hands. That fucking mouth of his. Because he was very, very good at this.
I could feel my orgasm building. This felt nothing like getting myself off. That was a release, predictable. But this… this consumed me. My control slipped with every breath. And losing it—that was dangerous.
“Julian, please.” The word slipped out before I could stop it.
He made his way back up to me. “Please what?”
Fucking hell, this man was good. “Please fuck me.” I reached for a condom.
He slowly slid into me. I watched him, watched the muscles in his neck and arms flex. Watched the blue light dance across his features. It had been a long time since sex consumed my thoughts.
“Fucking hell,” I cried out, arching into him. I closed my eyes as he pressed deeper. Maybe I did need a few younger clients. And a few that were good at sex. Because I really did enjoy this. All the worries and stress of the day melted away under the weight of Julian. 228 was a good number.
My climax slowly rolled through me, and I enjoyed it. Even the stupid hormones that flooded my body. The same hormones that made people believe it was more than sex. That it was something deeper. A low groan grumbled through Julian’s chest as he found his release.
He rolled off me, pulling me into his embrace. And I let him. Just this once, and then I’d tuck all those silly hormones back where they belonged. Because I was a professional.
“I win this round,” he whispered.
I met his gaze through the haze of orgasm. “The night’s still young.”
* * *
Julian and I lay amongst the tangled sheets and blankets.
The blue neon from the Starlight Sands filled the room.
My head was resting on his stomach, and it felt like we had always been this way together.
There was about a half hour left of his time, and for the first time in a long time, I thought about asking if he wanted to extend.
But that would cheapen this. “Did you always want to play hockey?”
“Not playing wasn’t an option.” He tucked an arm under his head. “I grew up in a hockey household. I don’t know what my father would have done if he had three girls instead of three boys.”
I could hear the sadness in his voice. “You were the only one who played professional?”
“My older brother, Hudson, played for a few seasons. Then he got hurt and never recovered. My younger brother, Beckett, never really got into it, so that left me to carry on with the Silver hockey dynasty. My father was Quinton Silver.”
He paused as if I knew that name. “Is that a name I should know?”
“God, I would pay a lot of money for you to tell him that.”
“Like how much? I got my eye on this YSL bag.” I sat up. Julian took my hand, lacing our fingers together. Everything about this was so intimate. It would almost feel normal if Jackson weren’t waiting outside the door.
“A lot. Quinton ‘Quick’ Silver is the best hockey player to ever grace the ice. If there is a record to be held, it’s held by my father.
There’s a statue of him in his childhood home in Windsor, Canada.
There’s a street named after him in Warroad.
Everything about our life was hockey. Everything about his life is still hockey.
” He sat up, moving closer to me. “I don’t really want to talk about my family. ”
“What do you want to talk about?” I traced his brow. There was so much I wanted to know about him. Like how he ended up here with me. Who had broken Julian Silver.
“You.”
I scoffed. “There isn’t much to tell. I grew up in Deadwood. My parents owned a bar. And now I’m here.” That was the simplest of answers.
“Siblings?”
He had a faded bruise on his thigh. “What happened?”
“Got hit by a puck.” He ran a finger over it. “Game against Colorado.”
“And your side?”
“Cross-check into the boards.” He ducked to meet my gaze. “Is there something you’re not telling me about your family? Are you some long-lost princess being held here by an evil king?”
I laughed at how that would be easier to explain than the mess that was my family. My sister and I barely spoke, my father had no idea what I did for a living, and my mother, well, she was the lucky one. “No. I don’t want to talk about my family either. Is that okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Cass?” Jackson knocked on the door. “You’ve got twenty minutes.”
“Okay,” I called over my shoulder.
“That’s my cue.” Julian pressed a kiss to my forehead and slipped from the bed.
I stood and slipped on my robe, not sure what else to say to him. I picked up his belt and a sock. “I guess I should thank you for another amazing night.”
“Oh yeah?” He stepped closer to me as he buttoned his shirt. “You’re not saying that—”
I pressed my finger to his mouth. “You didn’t pay me to lie to you.”
“What would you lie to me about if I did pay you for that?” He winked, pulling me closer to him.
“Hmm.” I thought for a moment. “That I watched your game, and I was so impressed with your…” I knew nothing about hockey other than it was played on ice, and by the bruises on Julian, it was a physical game.
“My what?”
“Equipment?” I teased.
“You’re not impressed with that? Looks like I’ll have to try harder next time.”
“Your equipment is fine.” He held me tight to him as he brushed the hair from my cheek before he kissed me softly. When he lifted his head, I could see it in his eyes. Sometimes men confused sex with something more. “This will go away.”
“What will?”
“The feeling you have right now.” I had the same one. That he wanted more than this. That we could beat the odds and find our sunset happiness. I hadn’t had this feeling since I was twenty. But unlike them, I knew the truth, and in a couple days, whatever we were feeling would be gone.
“I don’t think so.” He cupped my face, his thumb stroking over the small scar on my cheek. A reminder of how things were never as they seemed.
“It will. By Friday.” I stepped away. “I promise that.”
“And if it doesn’t?” he said, buttoning his shirt.
I walked over to the dresser and wrote down my number.
“Then call me.” I handed it to him before I could overthink what I had done.
I knew he wouldn’t. There was a confidence in his movements now.
The broken Julian who’d shown up here a few days ago had vanished.
I’d done my job. But that didn’t stop me from wanting to crawl back into bed with him and lose myself in him again.
“Okay, I have a game, but I’ll call you right after.” He kissed me again before Jackson walked into the room.
“Let’s go, puck boy.” Jackson nodded to the door.
“Be careful.” Why did I say that?
“I will.”
He and Jackson left, leaving me in the blue stillness of the room.
Alone.