“I fully intend to.” Jason grinned and nudged Blake’s legs farther apart, and then he positioned himself. “Keyword being ‘fully.’” He began to push in, and Blake’s eyes watered, especially when Jason came down and kissed him. Jason eased in farther, their breaths and moans mingling. “Oh, so good and tight. I should pay you.”
“M-maybe I should . . .” Whatever witty comment had been on the tip of Blake’s tongue melted away. He hadn’t been fucked by anyone in far too long. By someone like Jason? Ages.
Jason kept his strokes slow and smooth, sliding all the way in and almost all the way out, taking his sweet time as if the two of them had the whole night for him to earn that five grand. And goddamn, Blake wished they did—Jason felt amazing, looked amazing, sounded amazing whenever he let a soft groan or a curse slip from his lips. For Blake’s benefit, most likely—an act, like so many other prostitutes put on—but damn, he was good. He seemed like he was really into it, especially when he squeezed his eyes shut and shivered as his hips continued their fluid motions.
“Shouldn’t have let you blow me first,” Jason breathed after God knew how long. “Too fucking . . . bloody hell . . .”
“Do that any faster and I’ll be right there with you.”
Jason’s eyes opened, and when the corner of his mouth flicked up, Blake shivered. He’d asked for it, hadn’t he?
Oh yes.
He had.
Jason withdrew, and then slammed into him. Before Blake could recover from the barrage of overwhelming sensations, Jason started fucking him hard and fast, making the bed squeak and protest and turning his vision white. He never came this quickly. Never. Hell, who cared? He was coming now, and then Jason was too, releasing a string of slurred British profanity as he shuddered and trembled on top of Blake.
Finally, Jason stopped. He held himself up on shaking arms, and whispered, “Fuck . . .”
“My sentiments exactly.” Blake drew him down on top of him. It was probably just as well Jason was leaving after this. At this rate, if he stayed much longer, they’d start breaking furniture. And staying up till dawn. And clearing out Blake’s wallet, savings accounts, reserves, safety-deposit box, and next-door neighbor’s safe.
Oh, but it would be worth it.
So worth it.
And tomorrow—
Oh God. They had all night tomorrow, didn’t they?
Blake kissed the top of Jason’s head. Yeah, they had tomorrow night. He was sure something would end up damaged beyond repair—a body, a piece of furniture, a financial portfolio—but he just didn’t care.
Bring it on . . .
Jason withdrew, and while he was a bit unsteady, he managed to get out of bed much more gracefully than Blake would have. He vanished into the bathroom, and Blake drifted for a while, listening to running water, then to the silence while Jason was getting ready to leave. He opened his eyes as Jason came out with a damp hand towel and wiped the cum off him, and closed them again when Jason kissed him. “Where do you want to meet tomorrow and what time?”
“Come by here at nine?”
“I’ll need your name.”
“Raleigh. Blake.”
“Nice. I like it. Sounds pirate-y.”
“All legs and arms and eyes in working order. No replacements. I do, however, work in financial services.”
“I figured.” Jason winked. “Though your negotiation technique needs work.”
“Normally, I’m not turned on like this when I negotiate.”
“Fair point.” Jason grinned again and went into the bathroom to get rid of the towel, then came back out, buttoning the tight white shirt that played to all his strengths. You just didn’t get a fit like that from a store, not even the nice ones. And bless that tailor for knowing his craft.
“You certainly dress well for someone who spends most of his time undressed.”
Jason laughed. “The packaging does sell the product.”
Blake gave him a lingering down-up. “I can’t decide if you’d sell more packaged or unpackaged.”
“Well, I might find myself selling to my cellmates if I tried to go round undressed.”
“Hmm, fair enough.”
Jason buckled his belt. “So, nine tomorrow?”
Blake nodded. Then he looked Jason up and down again. “Or . . . sooner.”
“How much sooner?”
“I’m done with my meetings by six.” He sat up, reached for his wallet, and slipped a spare room key free, which he held out to Jason between two fingers. “Let yourself in if I’m not here.”
Jason eyed the offering for a moment, and Blake wondered if he’d violated some protocol he should’ve learned several prostitutes ago, but then Jason nodded and took the key. “All right. I’ll be here when you get back from your meetings.”
Mark my words, universe. Tomorrow will be the quickest meeting ever.
The next few days were a blur of negotiations—with Jason and with the stiff-upper-lipped clients—in between sex, a few hours of sleep here and there, and phone calls with Blake’s bank to assure them that, yes, he had intended to withdraw that much money that many times over the course of a week.