11. Florida Man Tells All Eccentric Billionaire Seduction
Chapter 11
Florida Man Tells All: Eccentric Billionaire Seduction
F or all his meticulous planning, Rainy hadn’t quite known what he would do when he saw Adler again. He was a creature of the moment, after all. And now Adler was right in front of him, in Andy Parish’s study, of all places. He was a little undone, relaxed in his surroundings—jacket missing, tie loose, hair curling at his ears.
In that single, frozen moment, Rainy thought he might throw himself at him. That cacophony of fury and hatred, all the dread and misery of the past week, crescendoed inside him, and his muscles bunched to launch him at Adler’s throat. He wanted to tear into his skin, lack of weapons and lurking guards be damned. The only thing that held him on the couch, rigid with rage, was Parish’s hand on his thigh.
The moment passed, and Adler’s face smoothed back to perfect composure. Rainy was sure that his own expression was giving too much away, but he couldn’t help it. Adler was finally within arm’s reach, and he wanted to taste blood.
“Do you know each other?” Parish asked, confused.
“No,” Adler replied, “I don’t think so.” He stretched out a hand. “Mark Calhoun.”
Rainy blinked. Why not rat him out? Because—because Parish had called him Mark.
Parish didn’t know who Adler was, either.
Rainy couldn’t fight the tiny smile that curled the edge of his lip. He could expose Adler to Parish right now, and there would be nothing Adler could do about it. Of course, that would require exposing himself in the process, and that was a little too suicidal a move for even him, with no guns on him.
He took Adler’s hand. Instead of shaking it, Adler pulled it up to his lips and pressed a kiss against his knuckles. Rainy burned.
“Mark and I met in much the same way you and I did,” Parish prattled happily. “But he’s been such fun, I’ve kept him around. He makes the most brilliant cocktails.”
He patted Adler’s neatly gelled head like a dog’s. The gesture made Rainy want to bite someone. Whom or why, he wasn’t sure. He just wanted to sink his teeth in.
So Adler was here for the same reason Rainy was—recon. Digging around in Parish’s personal affairs while he was distracted. Great minds think alike and all. If Seong was moving in on Brickell, then it made sense that he’d want to get inside the home of its baron. This meant that Seong and Parish weren’t working together; that in itself was information that Emilio would pay well for. But there was more to be had.
Adler was staring at Rainy’s ear where the tip was still wrapped in a thin white bandage. His eyes met Rainy’s and he smirked. Rainy’s hand tightened on the arm of the couch until it creaked.
“Come, sit,” Parish said, beckoning. Adler stopped admiring his handiwork to pour himself a drink and perch on a chair. Parish had to curl a hand around Rainy’s jaw and physically turn his head to get his eyes off Adler.
He drew him in for a kiss, deep and slow. Rainy could feel Adler’s eyes burning into the side of his head, and he felt stiff, clumsy. He missed the cue when Parish ran his tongue over his bottom lip to ease his mouth open, and Parish pulled away.
“Relax,” he coaxed.
“Feeling shy?” Adler drawled. “I can turn around, if you want.”
Rainy glared at him, then yanked Parish in by the collar of his shirt. He kissed him rough and thorough, stroking his tongue into his mouth and biting his lip. Parish groaned approvingly and pressed forward, pinning Rainy to the couch. Rainy let him take charge, let himself be kissed. Parish’s hand left his thigh to beckon somewhere off to his side, and then a warm weight was settling onto the couch at Rainy’s back. Adler’s hands smoothed up his spine, curved around his chest to work at the buttons of his shirt. His mouth landed on Rainy’s neck, hot and wet, kissing his way up to suck Rainy’s earlobe into his mouth. While Parish tugged on Rainy’s lip with his teeth, Adler’s lips skimmed up Rainy’s ear and closed lightly around the bandaged tip.
Rainy stomped on his instep. Adler wheezed in pain, the puff of air hot against Rainy’s wounded ear. Then he bent and bit down on Rainy’s neck, hard enough that Rainy gasped into Parish’s mouth. Parish made a pleased noise and spread his hands over Rainy’s exposed chest.
The firelight kissed Rainy’s skin as Adler eased the shirt off his shoulders. Parish’s hands followed after, exploring the rippling muscle, the swells and ridges of him, but Rainy’s attention was drawn by the soft snort that Adler let out behind him. His fingers skimmed over Rainy’s upper back, tracing the tattoo there—a cowboy in corny Hollywood western regalia, napping in profile half-propped up against Rainy’s shoulder blade with one knee up, his arms folded across his chest, and his hat tipped down over his face. Adler’s thumb dug into a spot that throbbed with an old pain. Rainy had peered at it in the mirror enough times to picture it: the remnant of his last run-in with a bullet, a small cigarette-burn exit wound scar that went right through the cowboy’s face. Rainy closed his eyes and felt the two sets of fingers pressing into his skin, overwhelming in the heat of the room.
And then Parish was sitting back, and Adler’s were the only hands on him. Rainy hated these tight fucking pants for refusing to hide how turned-on he was. His blood was pounding in his ears, and the room felt like it was squeezing in.
Parish examined him, eyes not missing the bulge in the front of his pants. “Let me explain,” he purred. “I’m a man of particular taste. I like my meals prepared well for me before I enjoy them.”
Rainy blinked, not entirely following. Adler leaned into his ear.
“I’m the chef in this analogy, honey,” he murmured, a light mocking tone in his voice. It made that same rage kick up white-hot in Rainy’s chest. And yet, at the same time, he hated himself for the way the endearment, rolled in Adler’s molasses-thick accent, made him shiver with arousal.
Adler’s hand slid down to rest possessively on his hip, and Rainy stiffened.
He could leave now—stand up and politely say this wasn’t his thing, retreat without blowing his cover. The door was right there, and with this weird rich-white-people sex bullshit, Parish and Adler had served him up an easy out. But Rainy had gotten himself here, inside Parish’s house, with leverage to get himself out with information. Like hell was he going to let Adler ruin that for him.
“Whatever you like,” he said, making his eyes wide and guileless. He could sense Adler’s displeasure, but Parish grinned.
“Good boy.” He topped off his glass and settled in the chair Adler had vacated, unbuckling his belt and spreading his legs for easy access. Rainy leaned back against Adler’s chest, keeping his eyes on Parish.
Adler pressed his mouth to Rainy’s ear. “Get out of here,” he hissed, so soft that Rainy almost didn’t catch it.
Rainy’s only answer was his polished, plastic smile.
“Fine.” Adler planted a palm in the center of Rainy’s back and pushed him face down onto the couch. Rainy’s entire body was buzzing with the urge to shove back, to wrestle Adler down and take a bite out of him. He forced himself to relax, pressed his cheek into the velvet, and bit down on his own tongue.
Across the plush carpet, backlit by the fireplace, he could see that Parish had opened his pants and taken himself in hand, stroking lazily. Rainy felt Adler’s hands at his own belt where his hips were angled up in the air.
Adler was clearly practiced with too-tight slacks, because he had Rainy’s off in half a heartbeat. Then his dry, calloused palm was on Rainy, coaxing him to full hardness. Rainy had to lock his muscles to stop himself from pushing forward into the tight, delicious grip. He bit down harder on his tongue, refusing to give Adler the satisfaction of groaning into the antique velvet.
It seemed to carry anyway, because he felt Adler huff a laugh against him. He twisted his grip, moving mercilessly. Rainy’s hips stuttered forward.
“Easy, Mark,” Parish chastised. “You know how I like it.”
Adler pressed his thumb teasingly against Rainy’s tip, then released him. He gripped Rainy’s thighs, easing his knees out from under him so his hips fell flat. His cock throbbed, trapped between his stomach and the velvet cushion of the couch.
With a firm grasp on either hip bone, Adler dragged him backward until his hips were balanced on the edge of the couch, his legs falling to the floor. A broad palm pressed down on the small of his back, presumptive and claiming.
Rainy felt flushed and pulled-taut. If he was plucked, he would hum like a guitar string. I’m going to kill you, he thought, calm despite the wildfire raging over every nerve ending. We’re doing this now, but the second I get a chance, I’m going to kill you.
Adler knelt on the rug between his legs. His hands slid up and down Rainy’s thighs, strong fingertips digging into the muscle. Rainy tried to force himself to relax for the sake of the show, but he only felt his muscles winding tighter as Adler’s warm breath ghosted over the delicate skin of his perineum.
His tongue followed with a firm, confident stroke. Rainy tried not to tremble at the little shivers that emanated from the point of contact, the gentle first ripple of pleasure as Adler mouthed over the most fragile, exposed part of him. Fight, his body insisted, confused and hot-blooded and wanting to push back into the contact.
He bit down harder on his tongue to keep from gasping when Adler dipped lower, sucking one and then both of Rainy’s balls into his mouth with demure lightness. Rainy’s whole body went numb and tingly with fight-or-flight and fizzy pleasure. Adler had his mouth closed around the most delicate part of him. Rainy could feel the light press of the ridges of his teeth where he was doing his level best to hold them out of the way, but they were just there, ready to snap closed at a moment’s notice and inflict untold agony. But it was so, so good, the feeling of being surrounded and submerged in the plush wet heat of his mouth, feeling the press and stroke over every bit of too-sensitive skin as Adler sucked.
Rainy pressed his forehead into the velvet, nearly overstimulated, and writhed to try and get some friction. Adler’s hands tightened on his thighs in warning, and he stilled. Parish was still touching himself unhurriedly, looking pleased at Rainy’s tense writhing. Rainy focused on the wet, red head of the man’s cock, trying to ignore the way his body was pulling tighter and tighter like a stretched rubber band, ready to snap.
Adler moved away, finally. Rainy hid a gasp of relief in the crook of his arm. His balls felt heavy and tingly, wet and bare in the hearth-warmed air.
In his chair, Parish was examining them appraisingly, one hand cradling his drink and the other still wrapped around himself.
“Your mouth,” he seemed to decide, with the entitled delight of a spoiled child selecting chocolates from the glass case at the candy store.
“Yes,” Adler acquiesced, and Rainy could hear the just barely bitten-off sir that dangled at the end. It gave him a little spark of satisfaction, the knowledge that despite his genteel wrapping, Adler was ultimately just a dog that followed orders. The meanness of the thought steadied him as he felt Adler’s focus return.
Broad, rough hands slid up the curve of Rainy’s ass. Killer’s hands. Suddenly, the thought that Adler was just following orders wasn’t comforting at all, not when he was sliding his calloused thumbs between Rainy’s cheeks and parting them, clinical and efficient. Rainy felt the air and light touch the hidden clenched-muscle of him, and it set his insides squirming like a nest of worms in his abdomen. He felt terrifyingly exposed, opened to the world, and there Adler was, cold and professional and totally unaffected.
Parish drank down Rainy’s expression eagerly. “Good,” he said, voice husky. “Make him good and ready for me.”
Adler’s thumb dipped to brush over the tightly clenched muscle of his opening. Rainy had to marshal every second of his years of training in control and stamina not to jump at the touch. His brain whirred.
Rationally, he knew what he was getting himself into. As a rule, Rainy considered himself Up For Anything. This had led him into some bizarre situations; most enjoyable, others not so much. Because joint preferences usually ran to him topping whenever he hooked up with men, he’d only been eaten out once. He hadn’t really been that into it; most of the enjoyment factor had come from how into it his partner had been. So, in theory, Rainy knew what was about to happen. He could prepare himself.
He clenched his fists until the knuckles blanched and set his teeth, determined not to react. He would not wriggle around or make any undignified noises.
The sound he made when Adler’s tongue pressed against him crashed straight through undignified and came out as a whimper. He felt Adler’s amused huff right up against him, almost inside him. Then his tongue was back, slicking over him in a hot, gliding press, teasing at his entrance with tiny kitten licks.
It was like being kissed, but there. The same sensation as if Adler had kissed him on the mouth, but a thousand times more intimate. It felt obscene, too private even for sex. Rainy pressed his face into the couch, flushed and shivery.
“Look at me,” Parish said. “I want to see you.” But Rainy couldn’t bring himself to lift his head.
Rainy didn’t know if the other partner who’d done this to him hadn’t been good or if it was just Adler, but this was entirely new. Adler was idly circling his rim, licking and sucking, and then his tongue pressed in firm and insistent.
Rainy gasped when the tip of it pushed inside him, sliding through the ring of muscle. He tried to relax, but he felt like his spine was about to snap from the tension. Adler seemed to sense how little give he had and retreated, returning to gently kissing where he’d been before. He carried on with that for what felt like minutes, easing the tension from Rainy’s muscles with his lips and tongue until Rainy was writhing and panting. He was leaking precome into a slick spot on his stomach, and he thought distantly that the velvet couch was going to be ruined. He felt like that spot inside him was aching for Adler now, and instead of clenching, his body felt eager to take him in, take him and take him until Rainy was full and wrecked.
When Adler’s tongue pressed in again, he slid deeper in a smooth glide, Rainy’s body welcoming him. Rainy moaned as he worked in and out, moving his tongue with short thrusts until Rainy was looser and his tongue went deep enough that Rainy could feel him on the inside.
He could feel Adler’s cufflinks digging into his skin and the front of his expensive, starched shirt pressed against his bare thighs. The juxtaposition was dizzying; Adler immaculate and fully-dressed while he fucked Rainy with his tongue.
Every stroke sent purple-red sparks pinwheeling through his body, gathering in drifts deep in his belly, heavy and warm and unbearably good. Adler kept pressing in to the root of his tongue, coaxing. Opening Rainy up for him. The thought made him want to press back desperately, take more in.
He caught himself just before giving in to the urge. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of—getting distracted by the undeniable attraction he felt toward Adler, and letting his guard down again. He tried to wriggle forward, away from the sensation, but Adler’s fingers tightened on his hips and dragged him back onto his tongue, deeper than before.
“Fuck,” Rainy gasped brokenly. “Fuck me.”
He’d meant it as an expletive, but once it hung in the air in front of him, it looked more like a plea. Adler hummed in satisfaction, and Rainy almost yelped at the vibration of it against the warm, loose muscle of him.
He almost forgot Parish was in the room until the man opened a drawer in the big oak desk and tossed something over Rainy’s sprawled form. Adler caught it and the delicious pressure of his tongue disappeared. Rainy didn’t have time to notice the relief before two long fingers were pushing past his entrance, slippery with lube. Even after Adler’s ministrations, there was a slight burn at the intrusion, the stretch of muscles not used to stretching. But Rainy still wanted more. The fingers were more tangible than Adler’s tongue, filling him deeper and more substantially.
Adler stroked and spread with his fingers, smoothing away the ache. He added more lube, smearing it liberally until Rainy felt slick and wet. A finger from his other hand flirted with Rainy’s entrance, and Rainy’s muscles rebelled at the stretch. But he was too slippery to fight the inexorable slide, and his body had no choice but to take the finger until it was in past the last knuckle. Rainy instantly relaxed, feeling pleased in some base, animal part of himself, clenching happily around the fullness.
Adler lapped at the taut skin around his fingers. What had been lazy sparks of pleasure was now a fire, leaping and scorching. A finger slid out, and then Adler’s tongue was back in its place, stroking gently as he stretched Rainy open with his knuckles.
Rainy’s thighs were trembling and he was lying completely flat, limbs too weak to push him up. He rolled his hips shamelessly, grinding down into the soft, scratchy velvet cushion.
I could come like this, he thought, and was abruptly right on the edge.
And then Adler was drawing away, slipping his fingers out. Rainy clenched futilely around their absence, but Adler was sitting back, admiring his work. Rainy felt exposed, sloppy and open to the world. His face burned as he pressed it into the couch.
“Good,” Parish was saying, a little breathless. “Come on, Mark, I want you to sit here.”
“Of course,” Adler replied; no danger of dropping an accidental sir. But before stepping away, he leaned in again, almost disobediently, and pressed a kiss against Rainy’s slippery, stretched entrance. It was gentle, affectionate, almost chaste, like a kiss goodnight on the doorstep of a first date.
Then there was a shuffling of feet, the crinkle of a condom being opened. Rainy opened his eyes in time to see Adler draping himself over the chair that Parish had vacated, looking flushed, his collar open and mouth glistening wet before he wiped it with the heel of his hand.
Rainy was still making eye contact with him, trying to push all the challenge and resentment he had into his gaze, when Parish pushed inside of him.
He’d forgotten how fingers didn’t prepare you. Not for the thickness and length, the unyielding pressure as it slid home deep. The fullness was unbearable for a moment, almost agonizing. His body squeezed down, trying to accustom itself to the intrusion, but there was no reprieve. He was pressed open, filled, and it drove him straight out of his brain. It slid all the way home, pinning Rainy in place, and for a hot, frantic moment, he thought, Adler, yes, fuck.
But Adler was across the rug, sitting in the chair, drinking Parish’s brandy. It was Parish inside him, and he was reminded when the man groaned appreciatively and slid out and back in, pushing the air from Rainy’s lungs.
He set a quick but dragging pace at a low angle, clearly intent on wringing every bit of pleasure for himself out of how Adler had prepared Rainy’s body. There was something arrogant and presumptive in the way he fucked, like Rainy’s body belonged to him and he might deign to give it back only once he’d used it however he saw fit.
It was maddening. Rainy squirmed around the rough, too-deep thrusts. Each push inside, filling him and stretching him out, packed down those long-gathered sparks until the pressure was too much, and he was going to pop with it. The motion dragged his cock along the velvet of the couch enough to stimulate, but this… it wasn’t as good. He’d been all the way on the edge with just Adler’s hands and mouth, and the fucking was good, but it wasn’t—
It wasn’t the way Adler was looking at him now, eyes all pupil, black with lust. He was still fully dressed, dick pressing against his pants, but he made no move to touch himself. He just watched Rainy’s face as Parish fucked him, mouth quirked in a slight smile.
He looked smug. Smug with the knowledge that despite the fact that Parish was the one fucking Rainy, it was Adler who’d brought him here. Adler who his body wanted inside, fucking every last tremor out of him with a hand flattened possessively over his spine. He felt like he was drowning in Adler’s dark eyes, flailing and gasping for air. He was suddenly aware of the non-silence of the room, the slap of flesh and the slick, filthy sounds.
This is for you, he thought nonsensically. You see what you do to me? Adler seemed to understand, because his non-smile morphed into a real smirk. The sight made Rainy clench down around the hard length inside him, the inexorable movement, thinking, Yes, God, Adler, yes. Parish’s angle was driving him down into the couch with sweet friction, and the pleasure was pressed so tight inside him that he wanted to die.
Adler slid off the chair, dropping to his knees on the carpet, and leaned in to kiss him. Hungry and deep and possessive. Yes, Rainy thought, and came.
The orgasm hit so hard his fingers went numb. It washed over him in waves as he rutted into the scratchy velvet, clenched down and found no relief as Parish kept thrusting mercilessly inside him. When he finally came down, shivering and weak, his face was buried in the crook of Adler’s neck.
He just lay there limply as Parish kept fucking his orgasm-loose body until he tensed and came. He didn’t move while Parish pressed his forehead into the sweaty dip of his back, then left to dispose of the condom. He wasn’t sure he was connected to his body anymore. It came back to him in fits and starts, ending with the sensation of Adler lightly stroking the hair at the nape of his neck.
Rainy jerked away and went toppling off the couch, landing on the plush rug with a grunt. He had to lie there to collect himself for a moment before he registered the nasty sensation of his own come smeared up his abdomen.
Adler tossed him some cloth to wipe himself off, and he snatched it away, face burning.
The hatred was rushing back in in the post-coital emptiness, brighter and more jagged than before. The attraction didn’t cancel it out, Rainy realized. The desperation with which he wanted Adler’s body made him hate him all the more. The feeling was a fever pitch, and even in this sex-drunk relaxation, Rainy felt that he might throw himself at Adler’s feet, take him out at the knees. Bash his head in on the hardwood or kiss him.
All the same, as long as one of them was dead at the end.
Then Parish’s shoes were clicking back—he hadn’t taken off his fucking shoes —and Rainy controlled himself. Not now. There would be time to fight later. Right now, he had other things to accomplish.
Parish helped him up and offered him a fresh glass of brandy.
Rainy started to speak, then had to clear his throat and try again. “Can you point me to the bathroom?” he asked. “I’d like to clean up a little.”
Parish grinned, looking him up and down. “Just down the hall. Help yourself.”
Rainy felt Adler’s eyes on the back of his neck as he stuffed himself back into his clothes, but Parish was already dragging Mark into a dull conversation, demanding his attention. Rainy risked a sneer over his shoulder before he all but bolted from the study.
The bodyguards had drifted away out of sight to give them some privacy. Rainy could hear them echoing about on the staircase, so he hurried away down the hall, past the bathroom and around a corner.
The room they’d been in had been for entertaining; Parish would have another office, a real one. Rainy trailed his hand over the bamboo statement doors, peering inside at guest bedrooms, reading rooms, a goddamn library —then a more sober office, with heavy green drapes and a stuffed desk. Rainy glanced around to make sure nobody was watching and ducked inside, shutting the door with a soft click.
In the dim of the study, he allowed himself a moment to lean against the desk, evening his breathing. Trying to forget the hard clash of lips against his.
There wasn’t much time. He got to work.