Chapter 2 #2
Then what? She’d have waited outside where she’s supposed to be.
She wouldn’t have thrown herself against the door until the lock bust in order to get in here and save me.
I’m not altogether sure what it is I need saving from—seriously, a guy gets a few dodgy messages and that necessitates a 24 hour security detail?
There’s no imminent threat to my person, unless I’m to assume the guy on his knees sucking my dick has some other motive for blowing me besides wanting a taste of my awesomely hot bod.
Believe me, no one who isn’t into it sucks like this.
“I was just a little preoccupied.” But I’m saying it now with my actions. I’m sure she’s brains enough in her head to figure that out. I don’t believe for a moment Falchard hired anyone purely for their looks and their brawn. She’s probably a rocket scientist.
That’d explain her continued fascination with my dick.
My head spins when she quietly closes the battered door with her on the wrong side of it.
Darling, you were supposed to leave the room. I only do performances for dosh, and then it’s all faked.
There’s nothing fake about how my body reacts as her gaze licks over my flesh.
I thought I was hard before, but apparently there’s a whole other level of arousal I never knew about, one that raises every hair on my body, and makes my dick swell inside Oscar’s throat so that he comes close to gagging with each swallow.
Shivers map the contours of my body. Euphoria causes my hips to punch out a punishing rhythm, while the set of her jaw makes everything inside me tighten.
It hurts to move. It’s impossible to keep still.
I walk the razor wire of momentum, caught between agony and a rising tide of bliss.
All I can see are her crystal blue eyes… I can’t turn away.
None of which makes sense. I’m gay, a reality I made my peace with half a lifetime ago. Someone needs to tell her, and remind my cock of that fact, because I swear it’s forgotten. A notion made doubly strange by the fact I’m fucking a guy’s face right now.
It’s not Oscar who’s drawing ecstatic gasps from my throat though, even if it maybe looks that way.
It’s her.
Fuck her.
Yeah let’s, my wayward libido sighs. Let’s do that. Let’s do that right now. Get her over here, or better yet go to her. Five paces and you can throw her up against the broken door, slide your hand inside that glitzy skirt and sink your dick into her where’s she’s wet and tight.
Jeezus, effing, motherfucking… This is not a fantasy that has any place in my head.
I tear my gaze away from her and try to refocus on the boy.
He’s a comely chap, angular in the way of youth, nice eyes, a very giving mouth…
and a suck that’s painfully expert. It’s just when the door got rattled, something in my head seems to have come unstuck too.
He’s the one sucking, but she’s the one I’m seeing on her knees with my dick in her throat.
I don’t do women. I don’t do women.
Doesn’t matter how often I chant it, the evidence is startlingly to the contrary.
I’m coming while her gaze is raking me, and I can’t stop it.
Lights flash before my eyes. For several heartbeats I swear I’m out of my body, and it’s under the control of some crazy sex-demon thing.
Come pumps from me in a never-ending fountain.
It goes on and on, like time got stretched out or something.
I don’t think I’ve ever been shaken apart so much by an orgasm, yet at least some part of me knows there is something deeply, inherently wrong about what’s just happened.
She’s staring at me still as I settle back into my skin. Meanwhile, Oscar’s all wide-eyed and open mouthed. Semen leaks from his mouth and runs over his chin. I unclench my fist, releasing the grip I have on his hair, before taking an unsteady backwards step.
Why the fuck is she still staring? What does she want from me?
I grab hold of Oscar by his cute little tie and pull him onto his feet, then I focus hard on snogging his damn face off. He groans when I flick my tongue against his, and his hard-on bumps up against my dick, causing that cute groan to morph into a croak.
Why am I still hard? After the way I just blew my load, I should be Mr. Floppy right now, not Perky friggin’ Lurky.
“You need something?” I ask, giving him a squeeze.
We both know the answer. I know that I’m going to give it to him too. It’s that or an alternative I refuse to consider. I’m not walking over to where she is, and taking a hatchet to everything I know about myself, while I rub up hard against her.
No way.
Ever.
Her gaze grows even more icy, and an impatient V-shaped crease forms between her brows. She’s sexy when she’s cross. Maybe she’s sexy when she smiles too, but right now she’s irate and she’s a knockout. A knockout that’s itching to knock me out…
Well fuck her! And I don’t mean like that.
No one gets to dictate my life to me. Sure I’ve got to be someplace, and I’ll get there, in my own time, on my own terms.
My cock bucks back up to full tilt as I release Oscar from his trousers. He’s long and solid. The tip of him is already poking above the elastic of his briefs.
“Do you want my hands on you?”
He’s so addle brained and oblivious to the tension in me, that I don’t think he realises it’s her not him who has me so wound up. That’s a good thing. A seriously good thing.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Whatever man. It’s all so good. I can’t believe you even noticed me.”
“Shh!” I cover his mouth again with mine to stall his gushing.
I liked him better when he was on his knees and quiet.
I kiss him hard, returning us to silence, while at the same time I wrap my hand around his shaft and tug it good.
My own pecker keeps trying to barge in on the action, so I grip them both together and wank us both simultaneously.
Apparently, that does it for him. He comes after a dozen or so strokes, covering my hand with his mess.
When he opens his mouth to start speaking again, I feed him my fingers to clean up, which he dutifully does.
“If it’s not too much trouble, it’s time for us to depart.”
Damn! We were doing so well there. The sound of her dictates cut me in half. One part of me jumps to do her bidding. The other is totally up in arms. “Howard is getting antsy,” she says, making it clear that the time for screwing about is well and truly over.
“We’ll catch up some other time,” I tell Oscar, sending him on his way.
“Yes, Mr. Drake. Anytime, you need anything. I’m your man.”
I choke back a laugh. I wonder if he knows how corny he sounds. The ice queen by the door isn’t so considerate. She glares at him as if she’s about to blow the north wind right through him. What she does do is get out of the way of the broken door so he can exit.
“Now us, Mr. Drake.”
“If you could give me thirty seconds to clean up a little.”
“I’m counting. We will get where we’re expected to be on time.”
Tempting as it is to hole up in the bathroom for fifteen and read my emails, I concentrate on straightening my appearance. The encounter has left me flushed, my lips are red from the rough kisses, but it’s my eyes that are the major concern. I look…I look stoned!
Too bad that’s not the truth. An easy explanation for the state I’m in would be welcome right now. Instead, I have to accept I’m rattled for a nonsensical reason—her.
The last woman who rattled me was the bitch who gave birth to me when she threatened to nail my bollocks to a board if I embarrassed her by attempting to run away again.
I didn’t just run, I put the Atlantic Ocean between us, and didn’t return to this country until she’d been sent down for a long litany of abuse.
She’s not someone I waste thoughts on these days.
The woman on the other side of the bathroom door perturbs me in an altogether different way. I don’t get it. What did she do to me when she got all Jackie Chan?
She bangs on the door. “Your time is up, Mr. Drake.”
I’m not sure it’s possible to call time up on my sexuality. That’s it, you’ve had your kicks, screwed a whole lot of guys, now you can just stop playacting, and get on with being a typical heterosexual white guy.
Uh, no!
Yet my traitorous dick is stiff as a board and the damn thing refuses to get clued up to reality.
What the fuck did Ms. Action Hero do to me? The way I’ve just come should have kept me contented until all the pomp and ceremonious warbling at the dinner was done. Instead, I’m more on edge than ever.
She bangs on the door again. “Mr. Drake, I’m sure we’d both prefer not to explore the consequences of us missing our appointed rendezvous time.”
My cock jerks to the sound of her voice.
What the fuck is that about? I can just about rationalise the effect of her presence mid-action.
She burst in. The adrenaline was pumping.
I was already lust-addled and approaching the point of no return.
She was a bit of excitement that turned the encounter into something out of the norm.
But now, now there’s nothing to explain why her presence, and her goddamned dictatorial tone should make my loins throb with so much need.
“I’ll be right out.”
Despite my cock being iron hard, I attempt to tuck it out of sight. Doesn’t fucking work.
“Hurry it up.”
I soak the face cloth in icy water, wring it out, and then wrap it around my dick. It sucks the heat right out of it. That’s better. Not so much of a strain to get my fly fastened.
I vacate the bathroom, and almost plough head first into her tits. She’s right outside the door, and she’s a tall lady, not much shorter than me. I back step as I breathe in her exotic perfume. “Ready?”
“For anything… Always.”
A short bitter laugh passes her lips. “As long as it’s dressed well, has balls, and clean fingernails. Yes, I’ve heard that about you.”
She grabs my dinner jacket off a chair back and holds it up for me to slip on, then buttons it for me, and sweeps some microscopic particle of dust from the lapel.
“Tonight will run far more smoothly if you can find it in yourself to comply with the various security measures it’s been necessary to put in place to ensure your safety.”
“Yeah,” I drawl. “’Cause I’m so-o at risk.”
“I’m just here to do my job, Mr. Drake. If Howard Falchard says you’re a high risk target, then you’re a high risk target.”
Whatever! “As you say. So, instruct me.”
“The car is already waiting. We go straight along the corridor to the elevators, then down to sub-level two. Johns will be our driver for the night. I’ll be your official escort. I’ll brief you with regards to the venue during the drive. Anything you require clarifying before we proceed?”
Yeah, why the fuck she’s still staring me like I’m the yummiest morsel that ever stuck on the sole of her shoe. Oh, make no mistake, she’s fighting to hide what she’s feeling, and her veneer of professionalism is impressive, but I’m an actor. I know a mask when I see one.
She heads towards the busted door, and I put a foot forward to follow, when it occurs to me that maybe I ought to check out her credentials. Could be she’s the crazy person behind the tacky little notes I’ve been getting and my official escort is yet to arrive.
“Do you have a name?”
It’s only her head that she turns back to face me. “Carter-Wells,” she says. “Kira Carter-Wells. And yes, you can take a few seconds to dial Howard and check my legitimacy.”