Chapter 14
When Gia came into my office last night to tell me she’d sent Damon home and that she was really concerned he had some kind of bladder problem based off his long stint in the bathroom and the wet marks on his jeans, I had to bite my cheek to hold back my grin.
“What if it’s prostate cancer?” she asked, eyes wide with fear. “That causes problems with all that, doesn’t it? And he’s kind of that age—I mean, he’s hot and all, but he’s not that much younger than my dad.”
Or mine, I thought. But age has never been much of a factor for me.
And, honestly, the fact that Damon’s twice my age and yet so ridiculously naive and inexperienced—when it comes to all the good stuff, at least—makes him even more appealing to me.
And he was already pretty damn appealing, in case you couldn’t tell.
But he’s got all these years on me, and yet he’s still a blushing virgin in all the ways that matter.
And all I want to do now is mess him up and strip him down and turn him on in ways that scare the shit out of him and do things to him that he doesn’t even know the name for.
There was no doubt in my mind the reason Damon had wet marks on his jeans was because he’d managed to get them a little…
messy. I’d have loved to tell Gia that and ease her mind—or freak her out even more—but as much as I want to stoke Damon’s humiliation kink, that’s not the way I want to do it.
This game is just between the two of us. No one else needs to be involved.
So instead I just brushed Gia off with some reassurances that Damon looked completely healthy to me, and whatever was going on was his own business.
And then I had to listen patiently while she once again reprimanded me about my song selections.
“He doesn’t like it.”
I shrugged. “And if he wants me to stop, I will.”
Although now I have confirmation that it turns him on, I’m really not sure I could stick to that promise. I don’t think it’ll come to that, though. He might grumble and complain, he might call me names, he might try to ignore me. But he won’t ask me to stop.
“You’re such an asshole,” Gia said as she left the office, but it was more of an endearment than an insult.
As soon as she was gone, I couldn’t resist texting Damon. It wasn’t the same as throwing barbs at him in person and seeing his live reaction, but I could imagine it. I knew he was just as aroused as I was, and I also knew he was fighting it with every ounce of willpower he has.
I figured I’d already pushed him pretty hard for one day so I decided to back off before I could find out if he gave in and rubbed it out—my guess is he went for a cold shower instead—but tonight I’m not going to be so generous…
“Ah, fucking hell, Jazz! Do you mind?”
I glance up at RJ’s outburst, finding him standing there with a hand clapped firmly over his eyes.
I’m actually a little surprised to see him, because I could have sworn he just went to shower, like, two seconds ago.
But now he’s here, all clean and sweat-free, with a pair of gray sweats on and one of the white standard-issue club towels hanging over his shoulders.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask him, completely baffled by his behavior. He’s usually a pretty easy-going guy—which is probably how he’s survived the last three years in a relationship with my sister—so this freak out is really weird.
“That,” he says, gesturing dramatically at the lower half of my body, while still making sure to keep his eyes covered with his other hand. “Jeez, we’re in a locker room. Put that thing away.”
I glance down and let out a soft chuckle as I realize I’ve totally chubbed out while reading through the text exchange I had with Damon last night.
I knew I was turned on, obviously, and I could feel my cock twitching, but I didn’t realize I was sporting a fully hard, very obvious boner until right now.
I do think RJ might be overreacting just a bit, though. I mean, it’s not like I’m fully naked or anything; I’ve got boxer-briefs on.
I shrug and grab a pair of sweats from my locker. “Not like it’s the first hard-on I’ve gotten in here. Or even, like, the fifth.”
“Don’t say that so loud,” he warns me. “I don’t give a shit, but other guys might not like knowing you get all turned on seeing them getting changed.”
I roll my eyes. “I was talking about the guys I’ve fucked in here. Kind of hard to do that without a boner.”
RJ rolls his eyes. “You know, you don’t always have to give people the intimate details of your sex life.”
“But my sex life is so interesting,” I say with a smirk, tugging the sweats on.
“What were you so captivated with on your phone, anyway?” he asks, a hint of curiosity in his voice. “Do I actually want to know?”
“Texts with a guy who’s trying to ignore me,” I tell him. “He won’t be able to, though.”
RJ arches a brow at me. “Do you realize how creepy you sound right now?”
“I’m simply stating a fact, Randall,” I say, giving him a casual slap on the shoulder. “Trust me, he won’t be able to resist for long.”
“You were born in the twenty-first century. Why do you sound like a douche from the eighties?” RJ asks with an exasperated shake of his head.
“Playing hard to get isn’t actually a thing, Jazz.
Either they want you, or they don’t. If he’s ignoring you then it’s a pretty clear sign that he doesn’t want you. ”
“I never said he wanted me,” I say simply.
That much is obvious; I might be able to prod and pry at the part of Damon that gets aroused by being humiliated and mocked, but it’s not actually me he wants.
He doesn’t want to touch me, or kiss me, or even talk to me.
He’s not going to get turned on by the sight of my naked body.
But the torment, and the degradation, and the shame… yeah, that’s something I can give him.
“Then why the hell are you harassing him?” RJ demands, looking affronted on Damon’s behalf.
I can’t help flashing him a smirk. “Because there’s something he desperately needs and I’m the only one who can give it to him. He just hasn’t let himself admit how much he needs it yet. But he will, and I’ll have him eating out of my cum-filled hand.” Fuck, now I’m getting hard again.
“And we’re back to creep,” RJ says with an exasperated sigh.
“Yeah, but I’m the good kind of creep.”
“Jazz, there is no such thing as a good kind of creep.”
“Try telling Thom York that.”
He rolls his eyes and turns his back on me, shoving all his dirty workout gear into his gym bag and zipping it up.
I do the same with my own stuff, making sure I’ve got my phone and wallet before tugging a hoodie over my head and shoving my feet into my trainers.
“I don’t know if I can do Saturday morning racquetball anymore,” RJ says wearily as we make our way out of the gym and to the elevators that will take us down to the carpark.
“Why? Missed a dues payment or something?” I tease.
RJ wasn’t born into money like Piper and I were, so he didn’t grow up coming to fancy facilities like this one, but he’s made up for it since entering the corporate world.
I’ve got no idea how much he earns working as the director of my dad’s media corporation, but I can imagine it would be somewhere in the vicinity of truckloads.
“No, asshole.” He gives me a playful shove. “Because every time I hang out with you I feel like I need to go bathe in disinfectant after.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why do I feel like that’s supposed to be an insult?”
He lets out a soft huff of amusement, letting me know he’s not remotely serious; not that I really thought he was—hearing my awesome stories gives him a temporary reprieve from the never-ending monotony of life with my sister. I love Piper, but jeez—imagine being tied down like that.
We step off the elevator into the carpark and make our way toward RJ’s SUV.
“So apparently your dad’s guy will be coming to Piper’s birthday tomorrow,” he comments, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. “What’s his name—Declan? Devon?”
“Deacon,” I clarify. “And she needs to get used to him being around, so she may as well start tomorrow.” I know Piper’s still having trouble with the whole Dad dating a twenty-seven-year-old guy thing, and her concerns about upsetting Dad if he knew how much she’s been struggling with it seem to have completely gone out the window since Dad and Deacon became “official”.
“She will,” RJ says. “Just give her time. You know she’s not actually homophobic or anything. It’s just a big change.”
We climb into the SUV and RJ starts the engine.
“She should be proud of the old man,” I argue, reaching over my shoulder for my seat belt. “Keeping up with a twenty-seven-year-old. And you know they’re fucking on the regular. Kit’s been staying over all week, and I’ve got Izzy at my place again tonight.”
Kit is my sister’s nanny and, to be fair, it’s not unusual for her to stay over considering Dad often has to work pretty late if there’s something big going down—I mean, she has a bedroom in the house and everything.
But she’s been staying over way more often than usual lately, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that all started around the same time Dad and Deacon got together.
“Yeah, for some crazy reason she sees it a little differently than you do,” RJ says dryly. “And I’d really prefer not to be thinking about my boss keeping up with his twenty-seven-year-old boyfriend when we’re in business meetings.”
“Jeez, RJ, it’s called compartmentalizing,” I drawl.
“If Dad can manage to get through a meeting without thinking about you fucking his daughter, I’m sure you can manage one without trying to work out if he’s a top or a bottom.
” I slide my eyes over to him. “He’s a bottom, by the way.
Like, super-duper bottomy. Massive pillow-biter. ”
“Jesus, fuck, Jazz!” RJ cries, shooting me a hard glare before returning his attention to the busy New York streets. “Okay, that’s it. You are banned from talking.”
“Wh—”