Chapter 4
four
I take the stairs at a fast clip and then slow my steps when I reach the second floor. I don’t need to meet this bloke as a sweaty mess.
Thoughts of the mystery man Cormac swim into my head.
I sort of wish he’d be on the other side of the door, which is ridiculous because I don’t know him any better than I know any of the men here.
It’s just that I felt a spark of attraction towards him that would be helpful in the situation I’m about to walk into.
For a moment, I contemplate the horrific thought that I might not be able to get it up, but I dismiss that almost instantly. I’ve never had that happen in sex before, and I’ve got enough problems in life without talking myself into another one.
I think of all the advice Julian has given me this week, but my brain starts to spin. Douche regularly. Always make sure my body looks its best. Waxing is imperative. I shudder when I remember my waxing appointment. Best not to remember the pain, or my penis will shrivel like a cocktail sausage.
I’d be standing here for the rest of the night if I tried to remember everything Julian told me, but one bit stands out at the moment—don’t initiate conversation until you know whether the man wants it, because some just want a hole to come in.
When Julian told me this particular rule, I’d asked whether a sex doll would be a better companion for these men. He’d given me a narrow-eyed warning not to attempt humour.
Pushing the thoughts away, I turn right down a long corridor.
It’s carpeted in rich reds and blues, and doors lead off it.
The soundproofing is excellent because there’s only a hushed quiet, and the rustling of my clothes as I walk along.
I wonder if people are fucking behind all these doors and have a sudden image of this house opened up like an advent calendar with different sex acts happening behind every door.
Holding the card, I look at the door numbers as I pass.
Finally, I arrive at Room Fifteen. I stop dead, swallowing hard.
This is it. I look back down the corridor towards the staircase.
I could go now—leave, find some temporary digs, and see if I can find a job.
I think of leaving uni and long years of a job I don’t want, and my insides shrivel.
I’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so much.
I can’t stand the idea that it might all have been for nothing.
I raise the keycard and let myself into the room.
I’m dimly aware of a big room with a high ceiling and an enormous four-poster bed, but my attention is on the man in a dark suit, his back to me as he stares at a painting on the wall. He’s taller than me with broad shoulders, long legs, and a pert bum all set off by the expensive pinstriped suit.
He turns slowly at the sound of my entrance, and I go completely still. “ You .”
The man called Cormac raises one eyebrow. “Do we know each other?”
His voice is lovely—low and very posh with an intriguing hint of huskiness. His face is even more stunning close up, and his eyes glow blue in the room’s low light.
His brow furrows, and I remember I’m supposed to be answering his question. “Oh no. It’s just that I noticed you earlier downstairs.”
He shrugs. “Well, I obviously noticed you too.” He spreads out his hands in a graceful gesture. “And here we are. Voila.”
I stand still, and the silence holds for an uncomfortable beat too long. All Julian’s advice has gone completely out of my brain, and I’m unsure what to do now. “What do you like about that picture?” I blurt out instead of doing any of the essential things I’m no doubt supposed to be doing.
He blinks and looks in the direction of my pointing finger. “I’m not sure there is anything to like,” he says offhandedly.
I cock my head. “You were staring at it, so there must be something.”
“Maybe I was occupying my time waiting for the young man who is not behaving as expected.” There’s a slight hint of amusement in his voice.
“Fuck, sorry.” I blanch. “Sorry. I’m not supposed to be swearing. Shit .” I wave a panicked hand. “Oh god, can you forget that? If you know Julian, please don’t tell him I swore.”
“I shall take your secret to my grave,” he says solemnly. “Which is probably a lot closer since I walked into this bedroom.”
“Is that a long-winded way of saying you’re not getting any younger?” My eyes widen in complete horror. “Mocking the punter is completely against the rules…” Oh hell . I say in a rush, “Please could you also ignore the fact that I just called you a punter.”
“Yes, it does rather make me sound like I’ve gone greyhound racing. What else was on your list of rules?” His shoulders suddenly tense beneath his beautiful suit.
Maybe he hadn’t meant to ask that question?
This situation is so far from my usual social interactions, and I know I’m doing it wrong. I wonder, panicked, if he’ll decide I’m not worth the money, but he settles back against an antique table and raises his eyebrow.
“I should douche,” I blurt. “Which you should definitely not worry about, because I’ve done it already.”
“The world is indeed a wondrous place.”
I grin at him. I like the wry note in his voice.
It’s very attractive. “I have to be willing but not too eager. Some clients don’t like that.
I have to wax, which, let me tell you, was one of the most painful things I’ve experienced in my life.
You should know that I aged a few years on that table just to make the area around my bits silky smooth and up for inspection. ”
“Good god. Like a parade ground.”
“I also shouldn’t talk too much.”
“I somehow think that’s a losing battle.”
“Yes, that’s what Julian said.”
“Julian?”
“He’s a regular here, and he’s like my mentor. He gives me…” I hesitate, remembering that this is a client. “…lots of advice that I can’t say any more about because we have to keep some things secret. Just know that there’s a lot more in my dossier,” I add in a glum voice.
His mouth twitches. “How horrendous.”
“You have no idea.” Silence falls. He seems to be waiting for something. I flinch. “Sorry. I should be naked, shouldn’t I?” I start to tear my clothes off.
“Wait.”
I drop my hands and try to raise an eyebrow of my own, but I’m probably just waggling both eyebrows at him like I’ve told a risqué joke.
“Slowly,” he commands and settles gracefully into an armchair.
“Oh, okay.” I raise one hand to my necktie awkwardly. “Are you sure you want that?” He stares at me. “I mean, sorry. I shouldn’t ever question you, either.”
“Goodness, I could do with Julian training my staff at work.”
He gestures at me to get on, so we’re obviously done with the allotted small talk.
My tie’s knot refuses to give way, and I suppress a nervous sigh.
I’ve got naked in front of quite a few blokes, but it’s usually a free-for-all with the other person getting naked too.
I’ve never had someone settle down to watch me take off my clothes, and my hands feel like they’re twice their size.
He watches me with a shuttered expression.
Yet there’s a tic pulsing in his jaw, and something about that tiny, uncontrolled movement floods my body with a wave of heat. I suddenly feel a lot more confident.
Reaching up, I finally slide my tie from my collar.
I fist the silk, sliding it along my hand as I watch him, the sound of the luxurious fabric over palm almost loud in the quiet room.
I toss it to the side, shrug out of my jacket, and throw it over a chair.
Then I reach up and start to unbutton my shirt.
His eyes watch my every movement, and I postpone the moment when the cotton will part and reveal my chest. My fingers move slowly along the buttons.
When they’re finally undone, I part the shirt with both hands, spreading it out and standing still so he can see me.
I’ve never thought of my body as all that much. I keep fit because I like to look good, but mostly because exercising eases me and lets me think. Now I’m glad of all the time in the gym as I watch his eyes skip over my abs.
“You’re golden in this light.” There’s an intriguing hoarseness in his beautiful voice.
Usually, I’d have a joke ready, as I like my sex free and easy, but now I don’t want to speak.
I don’t want the spell I’m weaving to be broken.
So instead, I nod and shrug out of the shirt, adding to the pile of stuff on the chair.
I deal with my socks and shoes and then step closer, watching his gaze tracking my fingers as they play over my belt.
I hope he notices my hard-on tenting the fabric, because that’s totally down to him.
“Yes?” I whisper.
He nods. His expression remains closed, but there’s a flush on his thin cheeks.
“Take it off. Take everything off.”
I swallow hard and unbuckle the belt before flicking the button on my trousers.
I can’t believe how turned on I am. My underwear is damp with precome and my dick is throbbing and protesting its imprisonment.
Forgetting my audience for a second, I press hard on my shaft, willing myself to calm down.
His breath catches, and my gaze flies to his.
His eyes are dark in the lamplight, his face almost ferocious in its concentration. His fingers dig into his thigh, the knuckles white as his erection strains against his trousers. It’s an intimidating bulge, but my mouth floods with saliva at the thought of sucking him.
Forgetting the command to be slow, I lower my zipper and let my trousers fall to the ground.
I step out of them and stand still in my briefs, feeling his gaze run over me like a physical touch.
At a nod of his head, I strip off my underwear and grab my cock, sighing in relief when I touch bare skin.
I fist it, feeling the precome sticky on the head.
“Feels good,” I tell him, startled at how hoarse my voice is. “What do you want?”
He sits back in the chair, spreading his legs. His erection is massive. “Crawl to me.”