by Lynn Lorenz
Fuck. He needed to find Sammi and fast. If he wasn’t found by the end of the week, the deal would be off and the half-million-dollar fee would slip through his fingers. His gut tightened at the thought of the damage to his reputation and the loss of the half million.
No matter. If Rome wanted Sammi, they would wait. If not, there were the other high bidders who’d love a second chance. Money could still be made. Maybe not as much, but close enough.
Sammi wasn’t on the streets, so that meant he’d found someone to help him go to ground. Some poor fag had probably picked him up, taken in by Sammi’s talent. Whoever was hiding his property was going to regret he’d ever laid eyes on Sammi.
Chapter Four
Mitchell sat across from the H.R. representative, Ms. Jane Walker, and gave her a tentative smile. She did not smile back. Not good.
“Mr. Collins, I’ve read your supervisor’s report.” She tapped a folder on her desk with her finger. “It’s most…disturbing.”
He didn’t speak. After ten years in the corporate world, he knew enough to keep his mouth shut, not to admit or deny anything, and let the others dig their own holes. Much safer that way. He didn’t plan on making this easy on her.
Ms. Walker’s mouth twisted. “Do you do this all the time?”
“Do what?” Okay, if she was so uptight she couldn’t even say the word masturbate, he was sure she’d never ask if he was homosexual.
“What you were caught doing.”
“And that was?” Mitchell raised his eyebrow. Maybe her reluctance to say what he’d done would get him out of this. His hopes rose.
Her lips quirked and he could see her tongue rolling around behind her thin cheeks as if she had a bad taste in her mouth. “Masturbating,” she whispered.
Well, she could say the word after all. Brave girl.
“What was the original question?”
“Do you do that all the time?”
“That depends.”
“On what?” She leaned forward in her chair.
“If you mean at home or at work.” He really should stop being a smartass—he was going to get into more trouble, if that was possible.
“At work. What you do at home is none of our business. However, your recent lack of judgment is our business.” She gave him a stare any grammar school teacher would have been proud to give.
She was right. He’d really screwed up. He waited for her to go on, but this time she waited for his answer. She won.
“I’m really sorry. I don’t know what came over me. It won’t happen again.”
“Well, I’m very surprised. I’ve gone through your personnel records, and I can’t find anything to say you haven’t been a model employee.” She leaned closer, her hands clasped on the desk. “Something had to have spurred this display.” She flipped open the folder.
Mitchell went with honesty. “I have a new lover. We were speaking on the phone and one thing led to another and before I knew it…” He gave a shrug. “And it wasn’t exactly a ‘display.’ I was seated in my cube with my back to the doorway. No one who wasn’t standing directly behind me in my cube could have seen or heard what I was doing. If my boss had knocked, and not just entered my space, he never would have known anything was going on. Nevertheless, it was wrong, inappropriate for the office, and I admit that.”
She sat back and stared down at her papers. “I’ve discussed this with some others here in H.R.”
Crap, she’d probably told everyone she knew about this. Sure, it was supposed to be confidential, but people talked.
Mitchell wanted to slide out of the chair and dig a hole to crawl into. He’d be the butt of jokes for weeks, if he still had a job. He wasn’t sure what was worse—losing his job, or losing the respect he’d spent years building among his co-workers. Mitchell had worked hard to keep his personal life private and to avoid any suggestion of inappropriate behavior.
One day in his life and Sammi had nearly destroyed everything Mitchell had built here at work.
“And?” He braced himself for the worst. “Are you going to fire me?”
“No.” She glanced down at the file, flipping a page as if checking what it read. “The company would like you to attend counseling. We feel, as does your supervisor, that you are a valuable employee, and that this was just a lapse of judgment. However, there must be steps taken to legally satisfy the corporation.”
“Counseling?” He let out his breath. That was a new one. “Why would I need counseling?”
“Well, you’d only have to go a few times. Just to talk to the company psychologist.” She smiled at him. “About your problem.”
“But I don’t have a problem.” Well, he did, but it wasn’t something he could talk about to a shrink. What could he say about Sammi and their incredible relationship? Would anyone ever believe it? He’d appear crazier than just jerking off at work, that was for sure.
She shrugged. “It’s that or dismissal.”
Mitchell nodded. “All right. Counseling it is.”
“And, you will be on probation for ninety days.”
Mitchell slumped in his chair. “What does that mean exactly?”
She leaned forward, slapped his folder shut. “It means, one wrong step and your employment with us will be terminated.”
“I understand.” He nodded and stood. She remained seated, pulled out another folder and flipped it open. He left her office, confused, embarrassed, but so glad he hadn’t been fired.
Shit. Probation. One small screw-up before dismissal.
Taking a deep breath, he pressed the call button for the elevator. He’d toe the line, show up on time for work, put in his forty hours, turn in flawless reports, see the psychologist, and even restrain himself from jerking off at his desk if it meant keeping his job.
But, counselling? He’d always thought of himself as steady, even-tempered, and perhaps the sanest of his friends. Right. All he had to do was go, just show up. No one could make him talk if he didn’t want to talk. And he didn’t want to talk, not when he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to dissect his relationship, his odd connection, with Sammi.
No matter what the shrink said, he wasn’t giving up Sammi.
* * * *
Mitchell could hear the music before he even put his key in the lock. He opened the front door of his apartment and classical music blasted him.
“Sammi!” Mitchell tossed his keys on the hall table.
No answer. Down the hall, the door to the bedroom was shut. Mitchell did a quick sweep of the living room, dining room, and kitchen, but no Sammi. Quirking an eyebrow, Mitchell headed for the bedroom, dying to know what waited for him behind the door.
His anticipation grew as he turned the knob and pushed open the door. The bedroom was empty, but he could hear the shower running in the bathroom. An image of Sammi—soapy, hot and wet—filled Mitchell’s mind and his cock twitched. Even though he couldn’t wait to get his hands on Sammi, Mitchell took his time undressing, relishing the wait, letting the arousal build to achingly sweet heights. By the time he slipped out of his briefs, his cock was a rod of steel standing against his belly.
God. Sammi was like crack. And Mitchell was hooked.
He opened the drawer, found the lube and a condom, and headed for the bathroom.
Steam filled the room. The mirror had fogged over and obscured any reflections. The sound of water hitting Sammi’s body charged the atmosphere of the small room. Through the glass blocks of the double shower a vague shape moved as if swaying to some internal rhythm, a ghostly image sent to drive Mitchell wild. Underneath the patter of the shower, Mitchell heard Sammi’s purr. Closing his eyes, Mitchell opened himself up to his lover. A jolt of desire shot through him as Sammi’s pleasure filled him. Sammi was touching himself.
“Join me.”
Mitchell didn’t need to be asked twice. After the day he’d had, all he’d wanted as he sat at his desk for the remainder of the day, as he drove home, and as he hunted through the house, was Sa
mmi. Just a touch of the man he’d fallen in love with would make everything better.
Stepping around the opening of the glass blocks, Mitchell’s feet hit the warmed tiles of the shower floor and he caught his first glimpse of his soul mate.
Sammi’s back was to Mitchell. Water streamed over him, plastering his black hair to his head, running down his skin, hugging the curves in the small of his back, dripping off the round globes of his tight ass and coursing down his legs. Muscles flexed and bunched as Sammi ran the soap over his skin, leaving foamy paths quickly washed away by the constant flow of water.
Mitchell wanted to bathe Sammi with his tongue. Every inch. Every sweet spot. He wanted to hear Sammi moan and feel all the pleasure their mating could produce.
Stepping up, Mitchell placed his arms on either side of Sammi, trapping him. Sammi leaned out of the water’s spray, pressing his back into Mitchell’s chest. His wet, heated skin made contact with Mitchell’s flesh, trapping his now-hard cock between them.
Sammi writhed against him. Damn, it was sweet. The connection between them strengthened and soared. Sammi’s arousal fed into Mitchell and he nearly lost his load when Sammi began a slow, sudsy shimmy down Mitchell’s body, then just as slowly, Sammi rose. The lather from Sammi’s body transferred to Mitchell’s, covering his cock in the suds. It was sweet torture, and Mitchell dropped his head back as he soaked up the feelings that washed over him like the water from the shower.
He leaned forward, pressing Sammi against the wall of glass. Sammi’s hands, fingers splayed, left soft smears on the blocks, erasing the fog of the hot water, allowing small glimpses of the bathroom beyond. Then the spaces fogged again and were lost.
As he knelt on the tiled floor, Mitchell ran his hands down the sides of Sammi’s body, along his lean flanks, over his muscled thighs, then up again, at last discovering the pulsing erection he wore like a proud staff, straight and thick. Sammi cried out and a jolt of sexual arousal shot through Mitchell. Sammi rubbed the soap, gathered more lather then put the bar on the shelf. He placed his hands on top of Mitchell’s and together they spread the warm, soapy lather over Sammi’s smooth balls and along the length of his glorious cock.
“Turn around.”
Sammi obeyed. Mitchell loved that about him. He could ask and Sammi would obey him, as if all he lived for was to please Mitchell. And he did please Mitchell, more than anyone had ever pleased him.
Sammi reached up and angled the shower head to wash water over his body, rinsing his cock clean. Mitchell held Sammi’s cock by the base of the shaft. He darted his tongue out, and in a long, leisurely swipe, licked the perfect heart-shaped head of Sammi’s erection.
Groaning, Sammi buried his hand into Mitchell’s wet hair, working through it as he guided Mitchell’s head. Mitchell licked up and down the shaft, then moved to Sammi’s smooth balls. Even clean, Mitchell could taste the musk of his sex. He sucked one ball into his mouth and Sammi cried out as he fell back against the wall of the shower, his knees bent to keep himself upright while Mitchell switched from left to right, pleasuring him.
Unable to stand it any longer, Mitchell plunged deep to cover as much of Sammi’s cock as he could take in his throat. Mitchell sucked hard as he pulled back. Sammi gasped. His legs quivered as his muscles strained to keep him upright while Mitchell gave him head.
Working like a demon on Sammi’s cock, Mitchell flicked his tongue along the underside and drove Sammi’s pleasure through the roof. As he kneaded Sammi’s ass with one hand, he probed the cleft between Sammi’s firm cheeks with the strong fingers of his other hand, running in a hard, demanding touch up and down the sensitive skin.
Sammi’s knees failed, and with a cry he did a slow slide to the floor. Mitchell kept his mouth on Sammi’s cock, following it down. Relentless, Mitchell, on his hands and knees, pushed Sammi and himself toward orgasm.
Together, they gathered the ecstasy building in each of them and blended it into an incredible orb of power, only to pass it back and forth between them. Mitchell’s balls tightened, his cock strained and throbbed as muscles sent jism moving through his shaft, and he felt Sammi’s building orgasm as it traveled down the length of his cock.
Mitchell grabbed his cock and gave a few strokes, just enough to make the last push.
They exploded together. Sammi’s cum filled Mitchell’s mouth as he hungrily swallowed. Hot, musky and salty, it washed down his throat. Mitchell’s grip on his cock moved to the base, and he shot his load, spilling on the floor of the shower. He slid to the floor and they lay there, chests heaving as the water rained on them, Mitchell’s head on Sammi’s chest and Sammi’s hand still tangled in Mitchell’s hair.
Damn, this uncontrollable desire for Sammi was going to kill Mitchell.
* * * *
“We’re going out tonight. No arguments,” Mitchell said as he dressed. Sammi sat on the bed, a towel draped over his shoulders. The last thing he wanted was to go, but he’d put Mitchell off too long. And Mitchell seemed as if he really needed a night away from the house.
“All right.” Sammi started getting dressed. “But I don’t have any money.”
“You don’t need any,” Mitchell said. “Not with me, babe.”
No one had ever been so generous to Sammi, not without expecting something in return. Sammi knew Mitchell expected nothing that Sammi didn’t already want to give.
In less than ten minutes, they were out of the door and climbing into Mitchell’s black Jetta.
“Nice car.” Sammi sank into the seat, slouching low so no one could see him.
“It’s okay. I’d really love a two-seater convertible. Something classic.” Mitchell grinned as he pulled away. “How about some Mexican?”
“Sounds good.” Sammi watched the neon lights of Montrose as they drove. The farther they drove the better he felt.
He imagined him and Mitchell driving, traveling far away from Houston, in the convertible Mitchell dreamed of, the wind in their hair and the sun on their bare shoulders. Maybe Mitchell would take him on a trip. Sammi had never taken a vacation like the ones he’d seen on television.
At last, they pulled into a restaurant parking lot. Sammi had no idea where he was, but he knew they’d left Montrose behind. No chance he’d be spotted here. Relief surged through him and he got out of the car with a smile on his face. Mitchell smiled back.
“Where are we?”
“Inside the loop. This neighborhood is called the Heights. This restaurant is a hole in the wall, but it’s great and they make killer margaritas.” Mitchell seemed so sure of himself, so confident. It really turned Sammi on, and his cock began to rise, but they were in the restaurant and he didn’t want to embarrass Mitchell.
They were seated, given menus, and Sammi scanned his. Everything looked great. He followed Mitchell’s lead, and both of them ordered frozen margaritas and beef enchiladas.
Even though Mitchell tried to smile, Sammi felt the man’s sadness. Mitchell hadn’t said a word about what had happened at work today. Sammi wasn’t stupid. He knew whatever occurred must have been nothing good.
“What happened at work?” Sammi asked after the waiter had left. He was worried about Mitchell, worried he’d gotten into even more trouble and even worse, blamed Sammi. Because, it had all been Sammi’s fault, no matter what Mitchell said.
“Not much. I’m on probation.” Mitchell popped a salsa-laden chip into his mouth.
“Probation? What’s that mean?”
“I have to keep my nose clean and see a shrink.”
The waiter arrived with their food and their conversation stopped as he placed the hot plates in front of them. Mitchell dug in, but Sammi just played with his food, his stomach still in knots.
“A shrink? Really? What about?” Sammi took a bite of enchilada, not even tasting it.
“Well, it seems I have a problem that I can’t control.” Mitchell seemed so serious that Sammi’s belly clenched harder.
Sammi leaned forward. “What is it?” He
’d never seen any sign of drug use or alcohol on Mitchell. If he had, he’d have steered clear of him that first night. Maybe. Maybe not.
Mitchell lowered his voice so nearby diners couldn’t hear him. “I keep getting a hard-on every time I think of you.”
Sammi’s cheeks burned, but he loved the compliment and the wickedness in Mitchell’s eyes. Just like that, his belly unknotted and his shoulders eased down. Maybe Mitchell really was okay at work.
“Me, too. I can barely keep my hands off you right now.” He let a wicked grin spread over his face and he tossed his head, throwing his bangs back. His appetite returned and he scooped up another forkful of cheesy enchiladas. It really was delicious and he hadn’t had such a good meal in days.
The hungry look in Mitchell’s eyes told him everything. Through the rest of the meal glances passed between them that promised each other their hunger would be satisfied once they got back to Mitchell’s apartment.
They continued to chat. Sammi shared his day with Mitchell, who acted as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever heard. Sammi had done nothing, really. He’d cleaned up the apartment, fixed some lunch and watched television. The whole day had been his with no one to answer to, no one watching his every move or following him around. In Mitchell’s apartment, he’d felt freer than he had in years.
Although Donovan had never put physical chains on Sammi, he’d kept him prisoner for a long time nonetheless. At first, Sammi had been happy to play the young lover to the older man who’d rescued him from the streets. Donovan had even spoiled Sammi. In the beginning.
They’d met in a gay bar a year ago. Donovan was big, handsome and spent money like he had an endless supply. Sammi had focused in on Donovan and the rest was history. He’d gone home with Donovan that night, leaving the streets behind. Donovan had given Sammi free run of the penthouse and use of the Town Car, with Moretti driving. Money was no problem either, and for Sammi, who’d never had anything, that had been seductive and intoxicating. Then a month in, Donovan had changed the rules and Sammi’s freedom had disappeared in a single day. He’d been locked in the penthouse, no more shopping trips to the Galleria, no lunches or dinners out at fancy restaurants with Donovan. Under the watchful eyes of an armed guard who stood at the door day and night, Sammi’s good life had become a living hell.