“I didn’t say that. I just said the shirt isn’t coming off yet.”
Tristan lowered his hips against Jared’s, and Jared groaned as their hard cocks pressed together—ground together— through two layers of leather. Jared slid his hands up Tristan’s back, under his shirt, resisting the urge to pull it completely off. Just rubbing his palms across Tristan’s hot flesh was . . . it wasn’t enough, was it? Fuck, Rolex had better pony up some more money and quickly. Or else Jared was going to rob him blind and then fuck Tristan.
He curled his fingers against Tristan’s back, digging his
nails in. Tristan groaned, arching against Jared’s fingers like a cat as he leaned down to kiss Jared’s neck. His breath was hot on Jared’s skin, and they both ground harder against each other. Jared’s head spun. His eyes kept tearing up. God, but he was turned on, and he didn’t know who was control ing this little game: Tristan, who withheld action for money, or the john, who could turn up the heat any time he wanted to if he would just stop fucking around and put some bloody money on the table.
Jared followed the curve of Tristan’s spine with both hands and slid them over that amazing leather-clad arse. Tristan groaned, thrusting against him. Jared was painfully hard now, especially as he imagined Tristan thrusting just like this with 17
only a well-lubricated condom between them, thrusting and
fucking with this intense, controlled frenzy.
“Jesus,” the john breathed, his whisper barely making it to Jared’s ears over the sound of Tristan panting against his neck.
More rustling. Oh fuck. Jared damn near came when that
telltale smack announced more money laid out now.
Tristan pushed himself up and looked over his shoulder.
Then he looked down at Jared, and the look in his eyes gave Jared goose bumps. “Time to turn up the heat, no?” Without waiting for a response, he sat up and pulled off his shirt.
Holy fuck. Ripped abs, hairless except for that thin
treasure trail just peeking out of the top of his trousers, and Jared didn’t even care if the john hadn’t yet paid enough to watch him running his hands all over those smooth, sculpted muscles. Or tease Tristan’s nipples with the semi-sharp edge of a thumbnail, which made Tristan bite his lip and gasp.
Tristan grinned and reached for Jared’s groin. He rubbed
the heel of his hand down the shaft of Jared’s clothed cock, pressing in just hard enough to drive him insane. Then he went for Jared’s belt.
Jared wondered briefly if there was such a thing as death
by anticipation—if so, that was the likeliest outcome of what they were doing here. He very nearly stopped breathing when Tristan skilfully pulled the belt open, then backed up a little, leaned down, and oh dear God licked the skin just above the edge of Jared’s leather trousers, bending his back like a cat, pushing his arse out—for the john’s benefit, but anything that kept the man entertained and, above al , paying more was legit. More than legit. Welcome.
Tristan’s fingers were on his fly, pulled the buttons open, gingerly opened the fly and then—oh, fuck—traced the pink tip of his tongue along Jared’s cock, still very much trapped 18
in his underwear. Just the contrast between the black and the pink and the white teeth as Tristan grinned like a devil was more than enough to drive Jared insane. Jared’s balls tightened.
He managed to shake his own fascination just for a
moment to touch and caress Tristan wherever he could reach him—shoulders, arms, chest, throat, anywhere at all as Tristan pulled his trousers down. Then, seemingly boneless, Tristan poured himself off the bed. He solidified and stood, and took off Jared’s boots and socks before he also pulled off the half-removed trousers and underwear.
This of course bared Jared to the john’s eyes, his very
aroused, very naked body just spread out on the bed without the protection of Tristan on top of him. And he completely held the man’s focus just now. At some point, Rolex had lost his jacket and opened another button of his shirt. He wore a white T-shirt underneath, which made him American with nearly one hundred per cent certainty.
He was leaning forward, hands on his knees, fingers in
front of his lips, as if he were forcing himself not to get up and get involved. “What do you think will happen?” the john asked Jared. “You look like you’re extremely hungry for cock.”
Tristan’s. Yeah. Jared gulped. “Yes, sir.” That was likely what he wanted to hear, and it was the only answer Jared could articulate anyway.
“Want to feel something big and hot in your ass, giving
you what you need?”
Usually, porno-style dirty talk just made Jared roll his
eyes, but Rolex’s suggestion made him shiver.
He licked his lips. “Yes, sir.”
“But only if I pay for it.” The john grinned. “If I don’t, nothing’s going to happen.”
19
“You’re right about that.” Tristan glanced at the john as he undid his own trousers. “No fucking until you pay.”
Rolex gave a quiet laugh. “Then we’ll see who holds out