Chapter 9
Austin fellated a popsicle in the kitchen, annoyed.
It had been two more nights of Dominic fucking him into the mattress. Two more nights of waking up to an empty bed. If Austin weren’t being dicked down so well, he would be offended. But he was trying his best to focus on being horny.
Hence, fellating the popsicle as he waited for Dominic to take notice. He had started subtly, but he was running out of time. There was only so long he could suck on the thing before it melted down his goddamn arm.
Dominic barely even looked at him as he walked into the kitchen again, fitting his earpiece into place.
“I’m actually picking him up right now,” Dominic said into the earpiece. “No, I know. Plans change.”
Austin leaned over the counter as casually as he could.
They had a gala coming up, and he was dressed in his usual gala outfit: a charcoal grey suit with the top two buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up to show off his tattoos.
He had undone an extra shirt button in the hope that Dominic would clock him on it and correctly deduce that Austin was trying to seduce him.
However, Dominic had all but ignored him the whole time they were getting dressed, including now, when they were just about to leave.
“See you soon,” Austin said, and pressed a small button on the back of his earpiece, turning it off.
Then he finally looked down at Austin, who felt like a pin-up model with all the posing he was doing.
Let alone the sucking, wrapping his lips around the cold tip of the popsicle and hollowing his cheeks, his eyes locked with Dominic’s.
Dominic’s dark eyes flared with heat. He stepped in, and Austin’s heart skipped a beat as Dominic reached up.
But Dominic only wiped a sticky line from Austin’s wrist, stopping it from dampening his rolled-up sleeve.
“Careful,” he said. “Wouldn’t want to show up all messy.”
Austin tried to come up with a line his characters would say. Something cool and dismissive, wresting back his power. But all Austin could say was, “Yeah, that would suck.”
He gave the popsicle another pointed suck. He was seconds away from going all-in and batting his damn eyelashes when Dominic chuckled.
“I didn’t think you owned any desserts,” he said.
“It was from last year,” Austin explained. “When I had that stomach bug. You said popsicles were—”
“Good for hydration,” Dominic finished. “Right.”
Austin stuck the popsicle back into his mouth, giving it another hopeful suck as he waited for Dominic to tell him to cut it out or give him what he wanted.
For a moment, Dominic just stood there, watching his mouth. Then he held up his finger. He’d never dried it off, Austin realized as he saw the shiny gleam of popsicle on his fingertip.
“Go on,” Dominic said, his voice low and sultry. “Make yourself useful.”
The words were like an electric shock.
Austin’s mouth went slack. Dominic didn’t even wait, just shoved his finger inside along the popsicle.
Austin made a muffled noise, shocked, and so turned on his cock throbbed in his silk boxers.
Then he got with the program and sealed his lips around the intrusion, sucking so hard he forgot to be sexy.
He tried to soften it, look at Dominic under his eyelashes in a way that still made him feel weird and vulnerable, but Dominic was already pulling his finger out, reaching into Austin’s shirt to wipe himself clean on the inside of the fabric.
“Good puppy,” Dominic said.
Austin pulled the popsicle out of his mouth with a wet pop. “What if we just blew it off?”
“The gala?”
“Yeah! What if we say I got sick?” Austin swayed forward, still reveling in the way he had to look up to meet Dominic’s eyes.
He let his lips part, hoping they were as swollen as they felt, and also that he would warm up if Dominic told him to get on his knees.
A cold mouth could be sexy for a finger, but it sounded much less fun for a cock.
“We could stay home,” Austin continued. “You could keep telling me to suck on things.”
Dominic’s eyes darkened. For a wild moment, Austin thought he had won. Even if he couldn’t talk Dominic into staying, he could talk him into fucking again.
Dominic took his jaw, squeezing firmly but gently. The pressure made Austin’s knees weak.
“Or,” Dominic said slowly. “We can go. And if you’re good, I can give you a reward after I take you home.”
Austin wanted to argue. But his brain had gone fuzzy, picturing all the ways Dominic would reward him later.
Dominic stroked his thumb over the bolt of Austin’s jaw. “Austin?”
“Okay,” Austin heard himself say. “Yeah, alright.”
“Good.” Dominic released him, and Austin almost stumbled forward. He hadn’t realized how hard he’d been leaning into Dominic’s touch.
Dominic did up the third undone button on Austin’s shirt. Then he stood back, touching his earpiece. His face was impassive, his suit unruffled. He looked entirely unaffected by promising his boss sexual rewards later.
“Finish your food,” Dominic said. “The car’s waiting.”
Austin stared around the gala, tapping impatiently on his champagne flute.
He still had two buttons undone. But he suddenly wanted to undo Dominic’s work and pop open another one.
Everything was too tight—his shirt, his pants, even the air felt oppressive.
For once, he didn’t mind that nobody was coming over to talk to him.
He probably looked even scarier than usual, glowering over the crowd from the corner of the room.
A fellow actor once told him that he looked like he was calculating what he could use for a weapon in any given room.
If only they knew he was obsessing over his bodyguard, who was standing an infuriating distance away.
Not too far, obviously, but not too close. Not like Austin wanted him.
The bastard still looked entirely unaffected. And Austin couldn’t do anything about it with all these people around. He had definitely done something to Dominic back in the kitchen; he’d seen the look in Dominic’s eyes. But the second they were in public, Dominic was all business.
Which was probably good for a bodyguard. Austin would have to give him a glowing review when he finally moved on—an idea Austin shut down whenever it appeared. He refused to think about that right now. They’d just started this… whatever it was. Austin didn’t need to worry about it ending. Right?
Dominic was standing next to the wall a few feet away, his hands behind his back. If he wasn’t constantly scanning the area for threats, Austin would say he was standing at parade rest.
Someone cleared their throat next to him. “May I take your glass?”
Austin looked over. The waitress didn’t look at him, her face hidden under her hat.
It was the same stupid cap all the other wait staff were wearing, something promoting the company that was sponsoring the gala.
It didn’t suit anybody, but especially not this waitress, whose dark, blocky hair was tucked awkwardly underneath it.
Austin shrugged and held out his glass, which had been empty for a few minutes now.
“Thank you,” the waitress said, placing it on her tray. Austin waited for her to swan off into the crowd, but she just stood there, watching him. Her hands were a little too tight around the tray, her knuckles going white around it.
Nerves, Austin assumed. A lot of fans were nervous about talking to him. She wouldn’t—
Austin turned to her. “Do you want an autograph?”
The waitress smiled, the movement barely visible from how far she was tilting her cap over her face.
“I’d love that,” she said. She didn’t sound nervous, which should have tipped Austin off. That, and she was just as tall as he was. But Austin only felt a faint niggle of anxiety as he took a napkin off the tray and a pen out of his pocket, which he carried for emergencies just like this.
“I bet everyone’s too scared to ask you for an autograph,” the woman continued. “I bet they can sense how dangerous you are.”
Austin laughed woodenly. “I’m not that dangerous, I promise.”
“No,” the woman said. “You are. Just like me.”
Austin paused mid-signature. That voice was so familiar.
He looked closer at the woman. Her face was still half-hidden by the cap, but her hands were visible. And her wrists. His stomach dropped as he caught sight of several telltale tattoos poking out from her sleeves. He recognized those tattoos.
“Gail,” he said.
Gail grinned. She tipped her face up, and he stared into the face of the woman who had been stalking him for years.
The woman who had snuck into the last gala and hid a gun in her stolen staff locker.
The woman who wanted him to be the Joker to her Harley, never mind that he had no interest in being anyone’s Joker, let alone hers.
“I missed you,” Gail whispered.
Then she wrenched his empty champagne flute off the tray and slammed it into the wall. The glass shattered, leaving a razor-sharp stud at the end of the stem.
Austin raised his arms protectively. But before the glass could connect, something huge shoved in front of him.
Austin stumbled back and stared.
The champagne flute was embedded in Dominic’s chest, just above where his shirt ended. It was shallow, thank god. But so close to his neck that Austin shuddered.
Dominic grunted. His hands were locked around Gail’s wrists, squeezing hard.
“Move,” he snapped at Austin, not taking his eyes off Gail.
Austin shook his head. “You’re hurt.”
“Part of the job,” Dominic said curtly. “Move.”
Austin stepped back. The crowd was staring, he realized. They’d been staring since she broke the glass. Austin had been too distracted at the time to notice.
“I didn’t do anything,” Gail began as Dominic twisted her hands behind her back.
Austin couldn’t hold back a shaky laugh. Dominic still had a flute glass embedded in his chest.
Dominic held her still with one hand and yanked the glass out with the other. He dropped it into the rest of the glass, his expression stormy. He didn’t look pained—he looked pissed.
“Don’t move,” he told Gail, annoyed.
Gail laughed, the sound high and grating as she struggled against Dominic’s hold. “I’m just working!”
“You didn’t work at that last place. I’m betting you don’t work here.” Dominic glanced back at Austin. “What are you doing? Get him to the hospital!”
Austin blinked. Dominic wasn’t looking at him, he realized. He was looking at Brent, who was jogging over with a piece of shrimp in his hand, chewing as fast as he could.
Austin looked down, his stomach swooping as he watched dark blood drip into Dominic’s shirt. “Dominic—”
“Later,” Dominic snapped. He pushed Gail through the crowd of shocked onlookers, holding Gail harder as she squirmed, totally uncaring of his stab wound.
Brent put an awkward, shrimpy hand on Austin’s shoulder. “Come on.”
“Threat’s neutralized,” Austin argued, unable to tear his eyes away from Dominic as he marched Gail through the crowd. “I don’t have to go anywhere.”
Dominic would have pointed out that he was just doing his job, and Austin should follow orders for once in his life. But just like everybody else who heard Austin’s voice get a little sharp, Brent immediately backed down.
Austin stared at the bloody champagne flute resting on the ground. Stomach churning, he turned to Brent. “He’ll go to the hospital, right? He’s not one of those idiots who think they can deal with a stab wound at home?”
Brent’s silence was answer enough.
Austin sighed and started following Dominic through the gawking crowd. “Fucking hell. Come on.”