by Jo Adler
This time he kisses me.
4
▬ ☼ ▬
ADAM
Nick tastes even better than I imagined. When the kiss ends and we step apart, I detect the lingering trace of spearmint from his tongue and the sweet whisper of honey-flavored balm from his lips.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, sounding confused and uncertain.
I tilt forward, push my mouth against his for a second time and rest one hand on his hip.
“It’s better than okay,” I assure him.
His shoulders seem to relax. “Oh, that’s good. For a second, it looked like you were frowning. I didn’t want to do anything to displease you.”
There’s something fragile and tentative in his voice, the unmistakable tinge of submission and surrender that I always listen for when I meet someone new. Although I’ve been known to switch into the submissive role now and then, I prefer being in charge. Devon accuses me of being inconsistent. “Sometimes you like to dominate the boy,” he’d said during a recent debate about roles and preferences. “But you also like to surrender and let them take the lead. Doesn’t that get confusing?”
I’m still searching for the answer to that particular question. In my world, where I juggle multimillion-dollar budgets and exceptionally demanding clients, dominance and submission are woven through every connection and conversation. Some people surrender total control completely, knowing that I’ll tare care of their project as if the home, office or restaurant was my own. Other people need to manage every tiny detail of the job. If there’s no give and take, I can generally sense that during the initial consultation. Those are the commissions that I decline. Life’s too fucking short to commit to a two- or three-year project if I suspect the client is an egomaniac overcompensating for one shortcoming or another by suffocating my creative spirit and artistic passion to satisfy their own need to be in control.
“Are you worried about displeasing me?” I ask, guiding one hand over Nick’s shoulder and down his back. “Or is that something you think about on a daily basis with everyone you meet?”
He hesitates. “Maybe both. I generally try and make people happy.”
“Is that right?” I lean in and lower my voice. “How do you want to make me happy?”
“In every way possible,” he answers quietly.
When he blushes, the pink shade that colors his cheeks adds to his fresh-scrubbed appearance. Nick looks like he stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad: light brown hair that frequently falls into his eyes; a square jaw that frames a wide, relaxed smile; large blue eyes and lips that are soft, plump and irresistible.
I smile. “Do you want to please me on your knees?”
He nods. “Yes, sir!”
“Do you want to please me by giving your ass up for a spanking?” I say. “With my hand turning your cheeks a beautiful shade of red?”
The tinge of color on his face deepens. “That’s definitely one of my favorite fantasies,” Nick says, biting his lower lip. “I haven’t done it yet, but I’d love to try it with you.” He pauses. “I mean, if that’s something you’d like to do together.”
I rub my hand across his back, sliding just below the waist of his jeans.
“I will tell you one thing,” I say.
He smiles, but simply waits silently for me to continue.
“Together is a really good word.” I move my hand lower, sliding under his briefs to caress one cheek. “It can be a very good thing, especially when you find the right boy.”
He swallows hard. “Or the right daddy.”
I keep my gaze fixed on the handsome boy in the harlequin mask as emotions race through my heart. The first surge is raging lust and tenderness coupled with a paternal desire to keep him safe and protect him from every kind of trouble. On one hand, the sudden sensation is inexplicable and surprising; on the other, after Brent’s betrayal, I didn’t know if I’d ever meet anyone again that made me feel such strong, urgent desire.
What the fuck, Adam? You just met this guy. Don’t go down that path again. Don’t let yourself—
“That kiss was pretty close to perfection,” Nick says, splintering my thoughts.
“I disagree,” I say, watching the sideways grin fade from his face. “It was absolute perfection. At least, for our first one.”
“Oh,” he says. “Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
I kiss him again, biting his lower lip just hard enough to elicit a deep moan. The sound of raw need in his throat makes my cock swell even more against my jeans. When I notice him sneaking a peek at the bulge, I reach down and cup his crotch. He’s rock hard under his khakis. When I press into his substantial mound with my hand, he exhales slowly before moaning again.
“That feels so…” He gasps when I increase the pressure against his erection. “It feels so …unbelievable. I don’t usually do things like this in a place where other people could watch.”
“That makes two of us,” I tell him, keeping my hand between his legs. “It feels like you’re packing a nice punch down there, boy.”
He starts to smile, but I cover his mouth with another kiss, pressing the tip of my tongue in deep and sliding it from side to side. He mutters something against my lips, a few tangled words that are indecipherable.
“What did you say?” I ask.
“We have an audience,” he murmurs.
I glance over my shoulder at two of Devon’s friends, a middle-aged couple who think it’s cute pretending they’re twins. They dress in matching outfits, talk with the same breathy intonations and sleep with the same twink until the little guy celebrates his twenty-fifth birthday. Then they send him packing and find a replacement. I’ve met them a handful of times at Devon’s place in Montauk, but have never been able to tell them apart. I decide it doesn’t really matter as they both wave and walk toward us. With their extravagant bejeweled masks and identical lacquered hair, there’s no doubt that it’s them.
“Well, well,” one says. “Someone’s claimed his prize for the night.”
I grimace at the remark, but smile again and greet the pair. “If it isn’t Roger and Milton,” I say. “How are you two?”
The second man moves in. “He’s pissed, Adam. He saw this sweet young stud walk in the door and fell instantly in love.”
I narrow my gaze. “Well, the world is winners and losers, isn’t?” I pause briefly to smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, my friend and I were going to take a look around.”
Without waiting for a reply, I press one hand against Nick’s lower back and guide him to the elevator at the far end of the foyer.
“Let’s start our tour,” I suggest. “I think you’ll find the artwork on the other floors as impressive as the pieces on this level.”
“Is that okay?” he asks. “I mean, I’ve never been here before. I wasn’t sure if the other parts of the house are only open to members so—”
I put one finger to his lips. “Relax, boy. Trust me, okay?”
For a moment, I almost remove his mask. It feels odd to meet someone and not see their entire face, but then I decide the mystery and suspense will make whatever follows even more intense.
“We’ll ride up to the third floor,” I tell him. “I’d prefer to avoid the other guests and members, if possible.”
When he glances back, there’s no one in sight except for the young men in tuxedos greeting new arrivals. When we reach the elevator and Nick pushes the button, the doors glide open silently.
“After you,” he says.
“And deny me the chance to appraise your ass as you step inside?” I glare at him sternly. “Not a chance, boy. I’ll follow you.”
I shift to one side and gesture for him to enter the small compartment. When I follow Nick into the snug space, it smells faintly of furniture polish. He watches attentively as I select Level 3 and wait for the door to close. Then I reach out and take his hand. For a moment, he hesitates, but the resistance is futile. I’m taller and stronger than him. Besides, I c
an see the desire in his eyes, the burning need to submit and surrender. When I slide one hand down his back, his body tightens. He seems to be shivering slightly, so I drape one arm around his shoulders and pull him closer.
“What did you come looking for tonight?” I ask, pushing the button to stop the elevator.
He shudders. “N-n-nothing really.”
“You’re not being honest, boy.” I reach down and swat his ass. “You came to find a daddy.”
He looks down. “I came as a favor to my friend.”
“Speak up, boy,” I tell him. “Daddy can’t hear you.”
Our eyes lock again. “My friend didn’t want to come alone,” he says in a reticent murmur. “I didn’t really have anything going on tonight that couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”
The shy, timid tone of his voice doesn’t match the hunger in his eyes or the growing hardness in his crotch that I feel against my leg.
“Just relax,” I say. “Let me guide you.”
I remove my arm from his shoulders and reach for his waist.
“Here?” he asks breathlessly as I unfasten the top button on his jeans. “I feel kind of—”
I kiss him quickly, driving my tongue into his mouth as his groans fill the elevator. As our lips churn and slide, I unzip his jeans and gently move my hands back to the waistband.
“I want to see you right now, Nick,” I whisper between kisses. “I want to see what I’m going to claim later upstairs.”
As his pants slide toward his knees, I slowly steer one hand from his waist down the right thigh. I whirl it around the bottom of the firm ass, turning it slightly when I hit each thigh and dragging it slowly between the cheeks. I drop it between his knees and then drag it up slowly toward his ass again, reveling in the sound of his throaty moans as I press one finger against the tight quivering hole.
“Don’t stop,” he murmurs. “Please, Daddy! Keep going! I want to feel you—”
A loud crackle sputters from somewhere overhead.
“Pardon the interruption, gentleman,” says a gruff voice. “But one of our guests on the ground floor would like to use the elevator. He’s recovering from hip surgery, and the stairs are off limits until at least another—”
“Who the fuck is that?” I ask Nick.
He motions toward the ceiling. “Smile,” he says, pointing at a small black oval lens mounted in one corner. “If I had to guess, I’d say that we’re on the closed circuit security camera.”
“That is correct,” says the disembodied voice. “If you could either continue to the third floor or return to the foyer, we would be very grateful.”
Nick begins to laugh as he wriggles out of my embrace and reaches for his pants.
“Are you watching us?” I ask.
“It’s my job,” says the man with the husky voice. “I work for Mr. Sinclair as head of security for the club.”
“What’s your name?” I ask curtly, trying not to lose my temper in front of the handsome boy in the harlequin mask. “I’m Mr. Sinclair’s good friend. I doubt if he would mind my guest and I using the elevator for a few more minutes.”
“Actually,” replies the man on the loudspeaker, “I’m acting on Mr. Sinclair’s direct order.”
When I repeats my question again, there’s a moment of icy silence before a response comes from above.
“Blake,” says the security guard. “My name is Blake. And as I mentioned, my apologies for interrupting your little revelry, gentleman, but the elevator is for all of our guests to use as transportation. If you do not have a suite reserved for whatever else you’d like to do, please check with our concierge on the ground level.”
“Your name is Blake?” I say with a derisive tone. “As in Devon’s ex?”
“Yes, Mr. Coleman,” the voice replies. “I’m very sorry to have interrupted your fun, but Mr. Sinclair would like you to please start the elevator again so that our other guest can use it.”
“I thought your voice sounded a little familiar,” I say. “I hadn’t heard that Devon actually hired you to work here.”
“Yes, sir,” Blake replies. “And I’m very grateful for the opportunity. Thank you again for your cooperation. I hope that you and your…friend have a good evening.”
A sharp click suggests that Blake is no longer listening, but there’s no way to know if he’s still watching. Before I restart the elevator, I take a moment to fold Nick into my arms and kiss him again. It’s as intoxicating and delicious as before, the kind of sweet bliss that I’ve always dreamed of finding.
“We should go,” Nick says.
I nod, give him one more quick peck and then start the elevator.
That’s for you, Blake. You unappreciative prick. If you hadn’t encouraged Liam to start fucking around with those pills that you sell, maybe he and I would—
When the door opens on the third floor, I follow Nick into the hallway.
“I’m sorry,” he says, spinning to face me. “I didn’t mean to get carried away in there.”
“Sorry? There’s nothing to be sorry about. Meeting you is the only bright spot about this night.”
The corners of his mouth drop. “Does that mean you don’t want to be here?”
“I promised my friend that I would stay for one drink, one conversation and one—”
“One kiss,” says Devon, suddenly coming out of a bedroom suite. “If not one hot roll in the hay. Sorry about the elevator, Adam. Beau Hollister can be such a pain in the ass. He was threatening to call the police if we didn’t give him access to the lift.”
“Beau’s a jealous old queen,” I tell Nick. “He probably saw us get into the elevator and wanted to disrupt my night.”
Devon chuckles. “Actually, my dear, everyone saw you and the young man in the elevator. Apparently, there was some type of technical malfunction and the video feed that should’ve been contained to the security console was broadcast to every flat screen in the building.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask, trying to keep from raging at my friend.
“I’m sorry,” Devon says sheepishly. “Blake told me it was a fluke.”
“That asshole is a fluke,” I reply. “I told you it was a bad idea to hire him to work here. I bet he’s still bitter that I suggested you break it off with him.”
Devon shakes his head. “He wouldn’t do anything that evil, dear. He’s really a sweet, sweet boy somewhere deep inside.”
“Yeah,” I snarl. “Somewhere deep beneath the layers of lies and theft and dishonesty.”
“What was that all about?” Nick asks as soon as we’re alone again.
“That exchange with Devon?” I say.
“Yeah. It sounds like there’s friction between you and his ex.”
“Don’t worry about it, handsome.” I run one finger down the side of his face. “I want your mind to be fully focused on you and me, not anyone or anything else.”
He laughs, and I take a moment to study his dazzling smile, full lips and the naughty shimmer of playfulness in his eyes.
“Ready to check out some art?” I ask, taking his hand.
He flashes another toothy grin. “I’m ready for whatever you’ve got,” Nick says, squeezing tightly. “Lead the way!”
5
▬ ☼ ▬
NICK
An hour later, as we finish exploring the artwork on the fourth floor, Adam asks if I want to see the penthouse suite.
“Is that where the magic happens?” I tease.
Adam looks startled, like I just revealed one of his deep, dark secrets to a roomful of strangers. He doesn’t say a word, but the displeasure darkens his eyes instantly.
“I’m so s-s-sorry!” I stammer. “I always say stupid things when I’m anxious.”
My stomach clenches and an icy chill scrabbles down my back. The hints of calm that I’d been feeling vanish instantly, replaced by jittery nerves.
He nods. “Are you anxious now?”
“A bit, yeah.” I bury both hands in my
pockets. “The night’s turning out a lot differently than I expected. I didn’t think it would be…well, I definitely didn’t think I’d meet someone like you.”
“Likewise,” he says. “My friend had to literally beg me to show up tonight. But when I saw you from across the room, I was really glad that I agreed to come.”
I manage a shaky smile. “So am I.”
“Well, then.” He motions at the entrance to the suite for a second time. “Are you ready?”
“Definitely,” I reply.
I sneak a glance at him as he uses the keycard to unlock the door. His profile is strong and masculine; full lips arched into a relaxed grin, the prominent bridge of his nose lifted slightly and the blue-gray eyes focused keenly on the task.
I glance away when he suddenly turns toward me, shifting my gaze to an abstract painting above a nearby loveseat in the hall. The image captures exactly how I feel: wooly black lines against a white background. I’m stressed out and doubtful now that we’re going to be truly alone. It’s always been the case when I meet someone new, especially someone as fucking gorgeous as Adam. My body and brain jostle through the usual dance: questioning and analyzing everything while the heat goes straight to my cock.
Adam’s deep voice slices into my jumbled thoughts. “Doing okay?”
I nod. “I’ve been great since you walked up and saved me from Stanley.”
His laugh is warm and spirited. “You’ve got a little sass tucked away in there, don’t you, boy?”
I feel my face redden. “Maybe a smidge.”
“A smidge? Is that another one of your grandmother’s expressions?”
“She used it constantly,” I tell him, blushing for the millionth time. “Some of my friends give me shit for saying it, but it always makes me giggle.”
He lifts one eyebrow. “You might be giggling now, but I doubt you will once we get inside.” He opens the door and swats my ass. “Let’s go, boy!”
I cross the threshold and step into a room that’s as luxurious as any I’ve seen at upscale hotels. On the left, a chandelier hangs above an expansive sitting area decorated in gray, black and white. On the right, a massive canopy bed is dressed with a pale gray duvet, a faux fur coverlet and a mound of fluffy pillows. Votive candles flicker on the side tables and dresser, perfuming the air with the subtle aroma of gardenia and lemon.