Chapter 22 Julian #2
I hit send, then set my phone aside. Even as I continue stroking myself, watching Theo throw his head back while Victor pounds into him, all I can think about is Elliot’s response—whether he’ll be shocked, aroused, or both.
My phone vibrates on the side table. Ignoring the spectacle of Victor and Theo, I glance at the screen to find Elliot’s response:
That was a dick move. I’m out with friends, and now I have a hard-on. Thanks for that.
Something cold and unfamiliar curls in my chest. Out. With friends. Without me.
I set my whiskey down harder than intended, drawing a curious glance from Jenson. I ignore him, focusing on the surge of possessiveness burning through me.
Where?
I reply, not bothering with pleasantries.
The response comes quickly.
You don’t need to know.
I grit my teeth, thumb hovering over the keyboard before punching out.
I claimed you. I absolutely need to know.
The three dots appear, disappear, then reappear. I can almost feel his frustration through the screen.
We’re in the cooling-off period, remember? That’s the rules. I’m allowed to have a life outside of whatever this is.
Whatever this is. The phrase grates against my nerves like sandpaper. As if what happened between us could be dismissed so casually.
Who are you with?
Three dots again. A pause. Then:
Mike and Derek. My school friends. Are we done with the interrogation?
Relief mingles with irritation. At least he’s not with other men who might want him. But the defiance in his tone—that’s new. That’s problematic.
Send me a picture.
No.
The single word rejection hits me with surprising force. No one says no to Julian Frost. Especially not someone I’ve claimed.
You’re mine for a year. That was the agreement.
His response is immediate:
The agreement was for the Hunt. Not for you to control my entire life. I need space to process what happened.
I stare at my phone, the defiance in Elliot’s text getting under my skin. This isn’t how this should be going. I claimed him—publicly, thoroughly—yet here he is, asserting independence mere hours after I marked him as mine.
Around me, the sounds of pleasure continue as Victor’s grunts and Theo’s theatrical moans fill my penthouse. Normally, I’d be fully engaged in watching or participating, but now they barely register. My entire focus narrows to the device in my hand and the man at the other end of these messages.
Let me come and meet your friends? And then I’ll help with that hard-on I gave you.
The suggestion is impulsive, unprecedented. I don’t meet friends. I don’t chase after men who have served their purpose. Yet here I am, waiting with uncharacteristic impatience for his response.
The three dots appear, disappear, then reappear.
Fine. We’re at Crossroads Bar. Corner of Elm and 5th.
Crossroads Bar? I frown at my screen. The name conjures images of sticky floors and watered-down drinks served in plastic cups. It’s the kind of establishment I’d never set foot in—nowhere near the caliber of venues someone of Elliot’s refined tastes should frequent.
Then again, perhaps I don’t know everything about him. The thought is oddly intriguing.
I stand abruptly, tucking myself back into my slacks.
“You’re leaving?” Theo asks between moans, still riding Victor’s cock. “This is just getting interesting.”
“Something came up,” I reply, already moving toward my bedroom to change. The Armani suit I’m wearing is hardly appropriate for a place called Crossroads.
“Someone came up, you mean,” Theo calls after me, his knowing laugh following me down the hallway.
I emerge from my bedroom dressed in dark jeans and a simple but exorbitantly expensive cashmere sweater—as close to casual as my wardrobe permits.
The scene in my living room has evolved in my brief absence: Victor now has Theo bent over the arm of the armchair, while Jenson and the twins have migrated to the plush rug in front of my fireplace.
“Going somewhere important?” Jenson asks, momentarily lifting his head from between one of the twins’ thighs.
“Just stepping out,” I reply, tucking my phone into my back pocket. I grab my keys from the crystal dish on the console table, hesitating before adding, “I trust you’ll look after the place while I’m gone.”
Theo glances over his shoulder, cheeks flushed and hair deliciously disheveled. “Don’t worry about us. We know the rules.”
I nod, oddly relieved. Despite the debauchery currently unfolding in my living room, I know these men respect boundaries.
The Kylie twins might be new to my penthouse, but Theo, Victor, and Jenson have been here countless times.
They know which rooms are off-limits, which bottles are not to be touched, which lines are not to be crossed.
“Help yourselves to anything you need,” I add, gesturing toward the bar. “Just stay out of my office.”
Victor grunts, which I assume is an acknowledgment, as he continues his vigorous pace with Theo.
“Don’t wait up,” I call over my shoulder as I head for the door.
I catch Theo’s knowing smile before I close the door behind me. As I wait for the private elevator that opens directly into my penthouse, I check the address on my phone again. Crossroads Bar. The things I’m willing to do for Elliot Chambers are beginning to surprise even me.