Chapter 6
six
Three Weeks Later
The pleasure is white hot in my belly, and I groan, my fists clenching the sheets as sweat drips from my face.
Cormac pounds into me, the sound of slapping flesh echoing around the room.
His hands are tight on my hips, and I know that later I’ll find small fingertip bruises. The thought makes me even harder.
He twists his hips, and I cry out, the sound thin and needy. “So good. Fuck .”
I’m pretty sure I’m breaking all of Julian’s rules.
I’m not thinking of how I look to the client; I’m not falling into artful positions.
Instead, all I can do is chase this insane pleasure that only he gives me.
Whenever I’m away from him, I crave it, wanking to thoughts of what we do. One afternoon a week isn’t enough.
“ Fuck ,” he groans.
A shudder runs through me at the hoarse sound. He doesn’t talk much during sex, so to hear him curse and cry out makes me feel triumphant. I tighten my buttocks, forcing myself back on him.
He grunts. “Yes. Fuck yourself on my cock.”
“Shit,” I whisper. “Going to come.”
“Yes,” he hisses. “Do it.” He directs a series of battering thrusts inside me, his cock rubbing continually over my prostate, and I push my hand between my legs to grab my cock.
It’s sticky with come from when we did this earlier.
We’d barely recovered from that bout when I’d said something, and he’d rolled me over and fucked me again.
I cry out as he grabs my hair, arching my back.
The bite of sharp pain, the feel of his cock tunnelling into me, and the thought that it’s this taciturn stranger fucking me so good is too much, and I shout out loudly as I come in spurts over the sheets.
I make a defeated sound, because I’ve broken another rule.
Julian insisted the client should always climax first.
Luckily, Cormac doesn’t seem to mind. He gives a low grunt, his hips jerking, and I feel the heat as he comes into the condom, riding out his pleasure in shallow thrusts.
When he’s finished, he rests against me for a second, his skin sweaty, his breath hot on my shoulder.
Our pants are loud in the quiet room. The hotel is posh with hushed corridors and an exclusive clientele of businesspeople, but in here, once a week, it’s me and Cormac sweating and straining over incredible sex. He’s the best I’ve ever had.
“God, you’re going to kill me with sex,” he finally groans.
“I hope not. I’m far too pretty to serve time for manslaughter.”
Too soon, he stirs and pulls out, holding tight to the condom. I hold back my instinctive grumble of displeasure because that won’t go down well. I’d tried to hold on to him last week, and he’d dressed and left without another word.
I’d like him to hold me afterwards, but that is definitely not on the cards. I’d be just as likely to have Boris Johnson cuddling me as Cormac Reilly.
He climbs out of bed and heads into the bathroom. I hear water running, and when he comes back into the bedroom, I roll to my back and catch the wet cloth he chucks at me.
“I don’t know why I’m bothering with this,” I say, running the cool cloth over my cock and balls. My cock gives a hopeful twitch at the way he’s watching me, but it’s false advertising at the moment. “I’m a biological hazard at this point.”
“Those sheets definitely are.”
I grimace. “They are a bit sticky.”
He goes to the fridge and removes a couple of bottles of water. After tossing one to me, he removes the cap on his own and gulps down the contents in great gulps. I roll onto my front, ignoring my own water in favour of looking at him. He’s become a source of fascination to me.
He throws his empty bottle into the bin, and I settle back in the sheets, sure he’s about to leave.
It’s his usual pattern, so I’m amazed when he climbs back into the bed and pulls the covers over his legs.
He settles back against the pillow, staring moodily at the wall, his grumpy mood from earlier making a return.
He’d lost his attitude quickly when I’d dropped to my knees and deepthroated him. My days of practising with a banana were obviously worth it. I wish my career guidance teacher at school had told me these were lucrative skills in the job market.
The thought of school makes me think of my brother, and I sneak a glance at my phone on the bedside table.
I want to check my messages to see if he’s replied.
He hasn’t answered any of my texts this week, and Cath said she hasn’t seen him either.
I passed worried a while back, and now I’m officially getting frantic.
My fingers twitch, but I restrain myself. I definitely remember Julian’s fierce insistence on not looking at my phone. “They’re a customer. Not some random bloke you picked up at the pub. They deserve all our attention,” he’d scolded.
“What’s the matter?”
I jerk and look over at Cormac. “What?” His eyebrow rises. “I mean, pardon.”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t bother. I gave up expecting manners a fortnight ago.”
I snort and poke him. “Shut up.”
I’m still amazed at my behaviour, but his eyes twinkle. “It’s been like keeping company with a yeti, although I’m pretty sure a yeti wouldn’t demand answers for his increasingly ludicrous questions.”
I grimace. “I know. I continue to break all of Julian’s rules.”
“Does he have a lot?”
“You have no idea,” I say darkly. “The World Health Organisation issues fewer dictates.”
He chuckles and immediately looks discomposed. I eye him covertly. I like making him laugh. It doesn’t happen often, but he has a beautiful smile. His whole face softens for a second, free from the fierce concentration he typically wears.
I shift onto my side, pillowing my head on my arm. “I’m afraid I’m not the usual sort of bloke you pick up.”
“You make it sound like I choose my men in the same manner as someone buying groceries in Sainsbury’s.”
“I somehow think you don’t do that very often. Anyway, I’m pretty sure I’d have been in the discounted aisles,” I say glumly. “Sorry for coming first.”
His lip twitches. “You can’t help your poor impulse control.”
I eye him and decide to just ask my question. He can, and probably will, refuse to answer. “How many men have you been with from the club?”
To my surprise he eases to his back and stares up at the ceiling.
“Oh my god, you have to count ?” I exclaim.
He shoots me a look that sparkles with reluctant humour. “I’m a busy man, Wes.”
“I’ll say. You’ve probably given Casanova a run for his money.”
“Hardly. I certainly would never have been climbing in and out of the windows of my conquests.”
“Yes, but is that just your age rather than inclination?” I say sympathetically and then gasp in horror at what just came out of my mouth.
He’s going to finish this thing with me now, and I can hardly blame him. My mouth drops open as he gives a huge roar of laughter. It’s very contagious, and I find myself grinning back at him.
He chokes off the laugh and rolls to his side, scanning my face. “What?” I ask softly.
He raises a finger, and I hold my breath as he traces my face, lingering over my cheekbone before tracing over my lips as gently as a butterfly. I resist the urge to kiss his fingers, knowing instinctively that he wouldn’t like that. Instead, I watch him quietly.
“I find myself thinking of you when we are apart,” he whispers, and my eyes widen.
“ Really ?”
He licks his lips, a rare sign of uncertainty in this cool and controlled man. “Yes.”
My heart starts to hammer, but he looks away, his face closing down, and I sigh, aware that the moment or whatever it was is lost. “Well, I don’t suppose I can blame you,” I say lightly. “I am very extra.”
“That is certainly one word for it. Trying is another.”
I snort, and he eyes me. It’s very intimate, lying on our sides, heads on our pillows, watching each other. I snuggle a little closer, stopping when his eyes flare a warning. I immediately snuggle down in the sheets, giving him an innocent smile.
“What’s the matter, Wes?”
His quiet question makes me blink. “Pardon?”
“You’re troubled today.”
“Am I?”
That bloody eyebrow rises again. “I am not a stupid man. I can read body language as well as the next person.”
“What is my body saying now?”
“That you are dying to move. You’re more fidgety than a hamster on his wheel.”
“Charming.”
“So?”
I stare into his eyes. I want to confide in him so badly, but I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t.
It’s not just because of Julian’s rules, although undoubtedly he’d type this one in bold and underline it a hundred times.
It’s more that I feel like I want to get to know Cormac, and that’s something that will never happen.
I’d be setting up a world of problems, so keeping everything in nice, safe compartments is best.
“Family stuff,” I finally say shortly. He nods but doesn’t reply. I grimace. “Is it okay that I don’t tell you?”
His eyes widen in surprise. “Of course. Whatever gave you the idea that you had to?”
“Well, you do sort of own me.”
He puts a hand up in protest. “Good god, I don’t . What a truly horrendous thought. I’d be addicted to Valium within the month.”
“Still, you pay a lot of money for me.”
“I pay a lot of money for an afternoon with you. Not a lifetime.” He shakes his head. “I’m not a hypocrite. I wouldn’t thank you for sticking your very long nose into my business either.”
I touch the length of my nose. “It’s not that long.”
“Any longer and you’d be asked to join an elephant pack.”
It’s delivered deadpan, but his eyes twinkle, and I shove him. “Shut up.” My fingers linger on his hard torso, and I trace downward, feeling the silky skin and the muscles underneath. When I get to the edge of the scar, his hand comes out and catches mine.
My heart stutters as he looks down at my hand, his fingers splaying over my palm, tracing the lines. I shudder at the featherlike touch, and he immediately looks up, the spell broken.