by Tara Lain
And the other one? Mac. Trelain was gone on the man. It was obvious. Oh, he cared about Daniel too, but there was a special feeling for Mac. Just watching his face as he danced with Mac last night made that clear.
Something inside Daniel had shifted. Trelain wanted Mac? Trelain got Mac, if Daniel had anything to say about it. Yeah, he knew it was carrying his charitable nature way too far. He should have let the guy leave and never admit to himself he was gay. It would have been in Daniel’s best interest. But he couldn’t do it. The guy was likable and seeing him suffering because of his own delusion hurt. Mac really cared about Trelain, and Daniel knew how that felt.
He leaned back in his chair and smiled. Yeah, and it wasn’t exactly a hardship for him so far. The guy was sexy and too smart for his own good. Daniel had watched on the sly last night as Mac had contemplated the mysteries of sucking a man’s cock. From fear, to resolve, to enthusiasm, Daniel had tracked the path of this gay virgin, and loved the sheer wonder of it. Yeah, no hardship.
A sharp ding brought his eyes up to the screen. Urgent. He opened the message. His informer told him Von Berg had hired at least one person to “prove” that Daniel had stolen the Golden Dancer. The informant did not yet know the identity of the person. Daniel snorted at the screen. Fucking lot of good this information was. The informant advised caution. Daniel frowned and erased the message. “Prove” in Von Berg terms meant lie, plant, frame, and blackmail. Caution indeed. Who would the old bastard use to try and prove his case? Someone who could get close to Daniel, clearly. Household staff? Those wonderful, quiet people who slipped through your life on cat feet until you barely noticed? Carlos had been with him for years. George too. The maid? Hell, no use driving himself crazy. The person would show up soon enough.
He pulled some papers from his desk, rose, and crossed to the side wall. As he reached for the painting that hid the safe, he looked down. What the hell? A backpack. He sat down beside it on his office couch. Had to be Mac’s. He’d noticed the reporter carrying it during the photo shoot. But how did it get in here? Thinking back on the party last night—Jesus, was it only last night?—he realized Mac must have carried it with him, and perhaps asked Carlos to stash it for him. That’s how distraught the guy had been that he hadn’t asked for it when he’d tried to make his escape.
He reached for the backpack’s zipper and paused. He’d just been sucking the guy’s cock. He grinned. That sure as hell didn’t mean he trusted him. The e-mail from his investigator flashed in his mind. Could Mac be a Von Berg stooge? Didn’t seem likely. How would Von Berg have ever found him?
The zipper was the work of a moment. He pulled out the laptop, turned it on, and waited for boot up. Several tries at the password produced no results. Hmm, the guy must be making more than the usual effort to keep people out of his business. Probably just reporter paranoia. Daniel wished he had access to one of the string of hackers he kept on hand at the company. They were so useful on so many occasions. But Mac would be looking for his laptop when he woke up. No time.
As he opened the pack to put the laptop away, he saw a slip of paper with a phone number that looked vaguely familiar. He was really good with numbers, but just couldn’t place it. He took the paper to the desk and copied the number on a pad, then returned it to Mac’s pack, trying to replace things the way he’d found them. Would the reporter notice if someone had messed with his stuff? It would be interesting to know how vigilant he actually was. He sealed up the backpack and put it back on the couch exactly where he’d found it.
Better call his assistant. It might be the weekend, but Terrebone Enterprises didn’t rest. He reached for his cell phone and realized he’d left it on the bedside table. Hmmm. That was careless of him.
* * *
Phone was ringing. Mac fumbled through a fog and reached to where the phone should have been. All he felt was smooth, warm skin. He pulled his hand back like he’d been burned. Oh yeah, that’s where he was. Jesus, phone wouldn’t stop. He pulled away from Trelain’s hard back and turned over toward the ringing. The light of a cell phone shone on the bedside table. Light also peeked around the edge of the blackout curtains, and Daniel wasn’t there. Mac grabbed for the phone as the bedroom door opened.
Daniel hissed. “Hey, Mac. I forgot and left that here.”
Mac extended the phone toward Daniel but glanced at the screen as he did. Stefan. Shit! He extended the phone. “Sorry, woke me up. Didn’t know where I was for a second. Thought it was my phone.”
Daniel rounded the bed and took the phone, which had ceased ringing. “Yeah, sorry. It was careless of me.”
It sure was. Stefan Saltz was the name John had given him. Had Daniel noticed his hesitation? Probably not. He watched Terrebone check the missed calls. The man glanced toward him. Yeah, you should worry, you thief.
Trelain turned over and stretched like a lazy cat, his beautiful lean body arching. “You gits are making one hell of a lot of noise for the middle of the night.”
Daniel chuckled. “It’s past eight thirty in the morning, dear heart.”
“Like I said, the middle of the night. But if you two are going to declare it morning”—he ripped the covers off a very erect penis—“I want my cock sucked.”
And just like that, Mac felt himself shift from reporter mode to lover mode. The thought of Trelain’s lovely dick in his mouth again felt right, natural. Shit. Chances of being gay? Well over fifty percent. His smile was tight. Plus, he didn’t have to do a lot more clue-searching today. How many people knew someone named Stefan?
Chapter Fourteen
What a surreal day. Mac watched the people in the small art gallery watch Trelain watch the art. Yeah, he was something to see all right. The definition of perfection. The golden hair fell around his shoulders and some light touch of makeup made those turquoise eyes look huge and even more brilliant. People who didn’t follow ballet wouldn’t know who he was, but anyone could tell he was someone special. Daniel chatted with the gallery owner at the back of the store. Mac could hear the man explaining his plans for bringing in new works, and Daniel seemed enthralled.
Mac shook his head. He’d crawled on his belly in Afghanistan, interviewed a serial killer in prison, even attended a “pony play” party where all the participants dressed up as horses and their riders, but today took the cake. He was walking around Laguna with two men—beautiful, ostentatious, and gay men. Did that announce he was also gay? It was one thing to know it himself, but to tell others? And how do you feel about discovering you are gay at twenty-seven, Mr. MacAllister, thereby having spent your life to date kidding yourself? Should he have seen the signs? Hell, yeah. How many times had he thought a man was good-looking but didn’t think he felt any differently than other guys? The cute intern Debbie had talked about. Mac had thought he was cute. And there was Paavo. God, he’d hung pictures of the guy on his wall and stared at them. He’d told his dad and himself how much he admired the guy’s art. Yeah, but that didn’t explain why he gazed at those pictures when he jerked off. Pain filled his chest. How could a person who so prized the truth have been so self-deluded?
“Are you okay, Mac?”
Those turquoise eyes gazed at him with so much affection, it took Mac’s breath. “Yeah, sorry. Just trying to catch up with myself.”
The dancer smiled. “It’s got to be a lot to take in, love. Just let me know if you want to talk.” He gently touched Mac’s hand, and even that soft caress sent fire through every nerve. Jesus, he was gone on this man.
Gone. That’s what Trelain would be tomorrow. Gone back to New York, leaving Mac to…what? Shit, he didn’t want to think about it.
Trelain walked over to look at a collection of painted miniatures. Mac stared at him and then back at Daniel. He didn’t want to admit it. He was pretty attracted to the big man too. Jesus, who wouldn’t be, male or female? It was easy to understand how the guy made his fortune. Scary smart and likable. You could watch people around him smile and laugh. He made everyone feel impo
rtant because he seemed interested in them. And he trusted people to be their best selves. Mac shivered. Get over yourself; the guy’s a thief. Just a damned sexy one.
Surreal. He was having an affair—no, a ménage for crap’s sake—with a man he thought was a thief. A man who’d likely broken the law, and Mac was determined to prove it, at least enough to write about it. And yet that didn’t seem to stop him from letting the guy suck his cock. And Jeeee-zus, could that man suck! Not even Trelain was as good. His dick was hooked.
Who’d have ever thought, after a lifetime of barely caring about sex, that he’d let the little man down there control his brain? But that was the problem. As Debbie liked to tell him, sex is a powerful force, and if you don’t give it space, it’s likely to come bite you in the butt. His butt had big teeth marks. Maybe literally as well as figuratively. He didn’t know whether to be pleased or embarrassed. Some of both.
A big hand gripped his shoulder. “You hungry? Let’s go get some lunch.”
Daniel guided him out the door as Trelain fell in beside him. Mac could see the disappointment on patrons’ faces at the loss of that vision. Outside, Daniel pointed up some stairs. “You like fish? Let’s go up to the Fishery.” Mac pulled back. The Fishery was a favorite hangout for him and his friends. He could see someone he knew.
Daniel cocked his head. “Don’t like it?”
“No, it’s not that…” Oh hell, he was a reporter. He could easily explain away his association. The other two could be the couple. “Actually, I love fish.”
The big man smiled, and something in those dark eyes suggested he knew just why Mac was hesitating to go into the popular restaurant.
Inside the casual dining place, Mac glanced at the crowd at the bar, all watching sports on big-screen TVs. Whew. Home free. No one he knew. The hostess walked them past the loud beer-drinking group to the dining area in back on an enclosed porch. The three walls of glass gave a spectacular view of the quaint town and the ocean beyond. They took a table in the corner and ordered mahi-mahi sandwiches all around at Daniel’s suggestion.
Trelain laid a hand on both their arms. “Thank you both for showing me this lovely town. I like it so much.”
Daniel smiled. “In the summer they have some great art festivals. One is like a flashback to the sixties. It’s a lot of fun. We’ll have to go.”
Mac felt…what? Jealousy? Confusion? Would he still be with them in the summer? Did he want to be? Could he bear the idea of Trelain in Laguna but not seeing him? Touching him?
Trelain raised that long-fingered hand from Mac’s arm to his cheek. “What’s wrong, malysh?”
“Nothing.” Mac glanced around and shook his head. Trelain’s smile faded, and he pulled back his hand. Shit, he’d hurt him. Mac reached for his hand. “I’m sorry, Trelain.” He looked up. No, God. Straight ahead, in the main part of the bar, Debbie stared at him from her table with two other friends. Had she just arrived? She had to have seen. He pulled his hand away like he’d been burned and stared down at the table. Maybe she wouldn’t be there when he looked up. The waiter arrived with their sandwiches.
He wanted to walk out the door, but it was already too late. He knew Debbie was totally zoned in. Plus, he wasn’t sure he could leave Trelain on his last night. Mac’s lips already ached to be kissed, and his cock remembered so well what it felt like in the man’s tight heat. He’d already hurt the dancer’s feelings by being an uptight idiot. If he chickened out and left, the dancer would never forgive him, with good reason. And he’d leave the field to Terrebone.
“Hi, Mac. Fancy seeing you here.” He looked up at his rat friend and knew his face was as red as her hair.
“Hi, Debbie.”
She didn’t wait to see if he was going to get his act together. With a huge smile, she extended her hand to Trelain. “Hi, I’m Debbie Malcolm, Mac’s erstwhile best friend.”
Trelain rose and flashed a smile that would have given heart failure to half the population of Laguna. “Oh, I am honored and delighted to meet you, Debbie. My name is Trelain.”
She grinned. “Of course, I know who you are, Mr. Medveyev.”
“Just Trelain.”
“Just Trelain.” She turned her green laser eyes on Daniel. “Hi, I’m Debbie.”
He flashed the pearly whites. “I’m Daniel. Do you live in Laguna, Debbie?”
“Yes, just up the street from Mac. Do you?”
So, she didn’t know who this was. He really wanted to see her expression. “Deb, this is Daniel Terrebone. I’m sure you’ve heard his name.”
Her eyes only widened slightly, making her an unofficial member of the Actor’s Studio. “Of course. I’m delighted to meet you.”
Trelain grabbed a chair from the next table. “Please, won’t you join us?”
She glanced at Mac evilly, then smiled back at Trelain. “Thank you, but my friends and I are just having a quick beer while we get carryout. I’m delighted to have met both of you. Mac, I’ll see you tomorrow maybe. You can catch me up on your story, okay?” She gave him a slight wink and a wave. “Bye, now.”
When she left, Daniel cocked his head. “Story?”
Think fast, MacAllister. “Yes, I told her about the profile of Trelain.” That wasn’t exactly a lie.
Trelain carefully ate the fish filling of his sandwich with a knife and fork, leaving the bread behind. Mac glanced up and saw Debbie leave with their friends. Whew. He took a huge bite of fish, bread, tomato, lettuce, and an excess of ketchup, nodding toward Trelain as he chewed. “Why aren’t you eating the whole thing? And your french fries are going to waste.”
Trelain carefully wiped his mouth. So fastidious. “I have eaten myself into oblivion the last two days, and I haven’t danced a step. I will soon be a hippopotamus such as the ones made famous in Mr. Disney’s film.”
Mac almost spit sandwich across the table at the vision of a two-thousand-pound Trelain in a tutu. “Not likely. Your body is perfect.”
The turquoise eyes pinned him. “Thank you, Mac. I am delighted you think so.”
Daniel leaned in. “Besides, you burn a lot of calories having sex, so that means you’re probably operating at a deficit.”
This time Mac did spit a little.
Daniel’s voice got even silkier. “And when Mac and I are done with you tonight, you’re going to need multiple plates of french fries just to fit in your tights.”
Mac practically came in his pants. Trelain stared at Daniel. Their eyes held. Trelain carefully put down his knife and fork and slipped both hands under the table. Mac felt a hot hand on his thigh, dangerously close to the nearly exploding cock. He assumed Daniel was getting the same treatment because the man’s nearly black eyes got glassy. Trelain’s voice was a whisper. “I think I need to lose weight right now. I can’t wait another minute.”
Daniel grabbed his wallet, threw money on the table, and guided Trelain toward the door with Mac following behind trying to hide his erection by slouching so his cargo shorts bagged. But even if the whole world saw, he had to get this burning dick into Trelain, and he had to do it fast.
Chapter Fifteen
The six-block walk to Daniel’s estate felt like sixty, but finally they pushed the front door open and passed the unflappable butler as they raced down the hall to the bedroom. The man didn’t even grin. Not a quiver. That was self-control! Mac had zero at the moment.
Inside the bedroom, Daniel grabbed Trelain by the shoulders and pulled him in close. “You want to fuck me, baby?”
Whoa. Daniel, bottom? Didn’t seem like the type. Clearly, Mac’s cock loved the idea, and if it wasn’t hard as nails before, now it actually hurt.
Trelain stood on tiptoe, a uniquely graceful gesture in his case, and kissed Daniel’s carved lips. “Been waiting for you to ask, my sweet. Now, why don’t you beg a little?”
Daniel’s dark eyes crinkled. “Would that please you, beautiful one?”
“Oh, yes.”
“You want Mac to hear me beg you to put that
lovely cock deep in my ass? Is that it?”
“Oh my, yes.”
His face got very serious. “You know how much I love you to fuck me, don’t you, baby? I crave it. When I’m sitting in business meetings, making deals for another billion dollars, I’ll be thinking only about your beautiful cock buried inside me. I beg you, Trelain, fuck me until I can’t stand up. Until my hole hurts, until it weeps for you morning and night. Please, baby. Please.” Trelain grabbed the big man and pulled him in for a deep kiss.
Mac thought his mouth must be hanging open. Daniel begging? Shit, it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, and that was saying a lot lately. He had to get his shorts off. Just the feel of the fabric on his oversensitized cockhead was making him crazy.
When Trelain pulled back from the kiss, he looked over his shoulder. “And you will fuck me, right, Mac?”
Oh crap, that was it! He started ripping his shorts off to give his pulsing erection some space to breathe.
Daniel laughed. “I believe our Mac is enthusiastic about this idea.”
Trelain reached a hand way up to Daniel’s hair and tightened his fingers in the thick silver locks. “Get undressed and on your hands and knees, big man.”
Mac watched with his cock pointing toward the ceiling as Daniel—there was no other word for it—obeyed. With a minimum of movement, the man tore off his shorts and print shirt, clambered onto the bed, and pushed his high, tight butt in the air as his face hit the coverlet. Jesus, Mac wanted to shove his cock in that puckered hole, but he hadn’t been invited.
The only one still dressed, Trelain leaned over and kissed that waiting ass. He spread the ass cheeks farther and slipped his tongue into the valley. Mac moved closer. Jesus, he couldn’t breathe. He’d heard of such a practice, but he was a guy who’d never even seen gay porno. What would it feel like to have someone’s soft, wet tongue around that sensitive area? Oh, Jesus, it had to feel so good.