Linton slowly unfastened his shirt and set it aside, then took off his trousers. Inside tight-fitting briefs Linton’s cock was very obviously erect. Linton pressed down on it and squeezed, and a lump erupted in Thorne’s throat.
“Will you do what I tell you?” Thorne choked out.
“I might. Depends how kinky you get.”
“No rubber chickens handy?”
“Er…let me think. No.”
“Leather belts?”
“What do you want me to do with a leather belt?” Linton stared into the camera and kept fondling his dick through his underwear.
“I have this image of you wrapped in leather belts. Tight across your chest. Around your arse. Oh fuck.” Thorne’s balls ached now.
“Maybe I can find a belt or two.”
“No.” Thorne kicked out of his own clothes. “I’m too impatient. Just drive me crazy.”
He wrapped his hand around his rigid dick and watched wide-eyed in disbelief when Linton curled up and licked the head of his cock.
“Christ Almighty. Let me check to see if I can get a flight over,” Thorne blurted.
Linton smiled around his dick. He slowly dragged his hand from bottom to top and sucked at the crest. “Whatever I do, you’re not allowed to touch yourself.”
Thorne groaned. “You are a complete bastard.”
Linton flicked his tongue over the rounded top and scooped up the beads of pre-come forming at the slit. Thorne fisted himself faster almost without registering what he was doing.
“Are you touching yourself?” Linton asked.
Thorne took his hand away. “No. How much can you get in your mouth?”
Linton showed him.
“Not as much as me,” Thorne said with a whimper.
Linton pulled back. “Really?”
“I meant of your cock, not mine. I can’t bend that far. I could when I was a kid but not now. Jesus, Linton, you look so sexy.”
Linton sucked harder, and Thorne was desperate to wrap his fingers around his cock. A combination of saliva and pre-come was escaping from Linton’s mouth, wetting his chin, making it glisten. As Linton slid his cock back and forth over his tongue, Thorne’s breathing went weird.
“Ah shit.” Thorne groaned.
“Not allowed…to come…before me,” Linton broke off to pant then went back to sucking and fisting.
“How can I come if you don’t let me touch myself?”
“Try.”
“Does it count if I use my shorts?”
“Yes.”
Thorne ached to push down on his balls but he played the game and kept his hands at his sides. But when Linton looked straight at him, Thorne passed the point of having any control and he grabbed his cock. One touch and a delicious tightening sensation enveloped his lower belly, his cock swelled, jerked, and as he spurted into his hand, he forced his eyes to stay open. Linton moaned around his dick then come slid out of his mouth and down his hand. When Linton swallowed, Thorne muffled his wail. He sank into the bed, enveloped by warm satisfaction, his racing heart gradually slowing.
Linton unfurled with a groan and stretched out, arching his back before relaxing.
“What the hell are you doing with your phone?” Linton asked.
“Checking for the next plane to London.”
Linton chuckled.
“Alternatively, you fly here. I need you right now to lick me clean.”
Thorne heard the breath catch in Linton’s throat.
“We can do this every night, right, while I’m away?” Thorne asked. “Though obviously I need a different show each time or I’ll get bored. Maybe you can get a tiger from London zoo.”
Linton smiled. “Night, Thorne.”
“Night, penguin.”
By the end of the week, Linton was exhausted. His pile of work never grew less, never grew more interesting. Max picked fault with everything and made him double-check calculations Linton knew were right. Then the bastard would raise an issue about pricing and Linton was forced to work again on cost-saving, value-adding, waste-reducing ways to complete the project and make Max happy. Though Max was never happy. Linton knew he’d done more work in one week than Daisy would have managed in a month, probably more, but it wasn’t enough and it never would be.
On the plus side, Pascal had gone back to the Paris office on Tuesday so Linton had been less concerned about staying late into the evening knowing the guy wasn’t suddenly going to appear after everyone else had left. Linton found it hard now to understand how deeply into that relationship he’d fallen. Part of the thrill had been the secrecy of it, but Linton had though it was just keeping it quiet from everyone at work, not from Pascal’s girlfriend. The sex had been great but what more had there been? Not much talking and not much fun, that was for sure. And now Linton knew Pascal was a cheat, it made him question all that went before.
Linton knew Amadeo was worried about him working too hard. Even Thorne had commented on Skype that Linton looked tired. Every morning Linton left the house before Amadeo woke and returned after he’d gone to bed. His friend kept coming up to him at work to tell him to take it easy, but Linton couldn’t. He was afraid of letting Max down, afraid he’d tell Thorne everything before he had the chance. His common sense told him that wouldn’t happen. The last thing Max would want was to look like some vindictive loser but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t find some other way to wreck things.
Linton still had to tell Thorne the truth. Then he’d be able to exhale.
By the time Friday rolled around, Linton’s stomach churned with an unhealthy mixture of excitement and apprehension. Max and the rest of the office went home on time which meant Linton was able to slope off soon after. He went straight to Thorne’s. After a week of getting to know one another, albeit on Skype, Linton was more optimistic for the future than he had been. I can make this right.
Linton’s phone vibrated as he rang the bell on Thorne’s door. He glanced at the screen, wished he hadn’t. Dirk’s rehab centre. Thorne opened the door.
Linton winced his apology to Thorne and answered the call. “What do you want?”
Thorne beckoned him inside.
“Is that Linton Williams?”
“Yes. Sorry. I thought it was Dirk.”
In the hall, Thorne pulled Linton against him and nuzzled his neck.
“It’s Derek Maybury. I manage The Moors.”
“What’s wrong?” Oh fuck, please let Dirk be okay.
Thorne pulled away and leaned on the wall.
“Your brother wants to leave.”
“I am leaving,” Linton heard Dirk say in the background.
“Oh sh—no. Why?”
“He won’t say. He was doing well. I’m not sure what’s happened. He’s not giving any reason for his decision.”
“Can you stop him? Restrain him?” Handcuff him to a bed? Hog tie him? Except Dirk would probably like that.
Thorne raised his eyebrows.
“Staying here isn’t compulsory,” Maybury said. “If he wants to leave, he can just walk out.”
Thorne signalled he was going into the kitchen and disappeared.
“Can I speak to him?” Linton stared at the closed door. “Try and persuade him to stay?”
“I was hoping that’s exactly what you’d do. I’ll put him on the line.”
There was a pause before Dirk spoke. “You’re wasting your breath. I’m not staying.”
Linton’s heart sank. “Why not?”
“I found out how much this place is costing. How the hell can you afford it?”
“I borrowed the money.” Linton lowered his voice even though he didn’t think Thorne could hear.
“Who from?” Dirk demanded.
“What does it matter?”
“Not from Budak.”
“No. I don’t like you that much.” Linton forced a laugh but didn’t hear an answering one.
“Tell me who from. You can’t have got it from a legitimate source. You have no collater
al.”
“It’s a…private arrangement.”
“With who?”
“That’s my business.”
“And mine. What have you done, Linton?”
“Leave it alone.”
“Tell me,” Dirk snapped.
Linton tried not to snap back. “Something that can’t be undone so if you leave now, I’ll have done it for nothing.”
“You can get The Moors to give you the money back.”
“I’m afraid not,” Maybury said in the background.
Thorne emerged from the kitchen with two glasses of wine.
Linton interrupted Dirk as his brother argued with Maybury. “Dirk, shut it. You have nowhere to go. You need to get well and I have to know you’re safe. I’ll come up. I can’t come today, it’s too late. I’ll set off first thing in the morning. I should be there just after lunch.” The thought of that long drive and the cost of fuel made him want to groan, but he had to keep Dirk in rehab, away from drugs and away from Budak.
“Fine, come up. But I’m still going to leave. You want me to be safe? Take me home with you.” Dirk ended the call.
“Shit.” Linton slumped against the wall.
Thorne handed him a glass of wine and brushed his hand down Linton’s chest. Goose bumps followed his touch.
“Is Dirk okay?” Thorne asked.
“I don’t know. Yeah, I do. No, he’s not. He wants to leave rehab. I have to go up there first thing tomorrow and talk him out of it which won’t be easy. Dirk’s a bloody-minded wanker when he sets his mind on something.”
“Go in the kitchen and say hello to River. I just need to do something.”
Linton’s head buzzed. “Okay.”
This was not the way he’d wanted to start this evening. He probably ought to go back to Greenwich, get his car and set off tonight. He could nap in the car when he was halfway there and be at The Moors first thing.
River sat at the table working on his laptop.
“Hi,” Linton said.
River looked up when Linton sat opposite. “Hi.”
“Seen anything of Marta?” Linton asked.
“She makes good coffee.”
Linton smiled. “She does.”
“I’m not supposed to drink a lot of coffee.”
“Worth the risk though, right?”
River nodded. Linton put his wine glass on the table, not having touched it.
“She might not like me,” River said quietly.
“She likes you.”
“But she doesn’t know me, what I’m like.” River lifted his head to look straight at him, though he didn’t hold Linton’s gaze for long.
“She knows you’re different, that you’re special and she still likes you. Did you ask her to the party?”
“No.”
“Write her an invitation,” Linton said. “Go to the café tomorrow morning and hand it to her. Put your address and phone number on. You don’t have to say anything, then. It’s like tennis. You’ll have just hit the ball into her side of the court. You wait to see if she hits it back.”
River’s brow furrowed and then he nodded. “Just like tennis.”
Linton looked across the room and saw Thorne leaning against the door jamb listening.
“I’ve arranged for us to be collected at seven tomorrow morning and taken to South Bank’s heliport,” Thorne said. “They’ll fly us as close to Dirk’s rehab as they can get. Give me the address and the charter company will locate a landing site and get permission to set down. A car will take us the rest of the way if we can’t land in the grounds. You’ll be there in a couple of hours.”
Linton gaped at him. “You can’t do that. It’ll cost you a fortune.”
“I can afford it. Plus I have an ulterior motive. I want you at my party, not stuck in some traffic jam on the motorway.”
“I can’t let you spend all that money,” Linton mumbled.
Thorne stepped forward and pulled him into his arms. “This can be an easy three-hour round trip as opposed to a minimum eleven-hour gruelling one.”
Linton shook his head.
“Say yes, not no.” Thorne kissed him. “Or even better, don’t say anything. I quite like the silent, obedient type.”
“I better leave now then.”
River sniggered and Thorne laughed. “Give me the address of the rehab place.”
Linton hesitated.
“The helicopter’s booked and paid for. Just tell me.”
Linton gave in. After Thorne had texted the company he guided Linton back to his bedroom and stripped him of his clothes. What happened to telling him the truth?
Chapter Twenty
Thorne woke with his face pressed into Linton’s neck, his arm wrapped around his waist. His phone was buzzing on the bedside table and he reluctantly untangled himself to answer it.
“Yep,” Thorne said.
“I’m outside, sir.”
Shit. “Okay. Give us a few minutes.” He shook Linton awake. “We need to get ready.”
As soon as Linton looked as if he wasn’t going to go back to sleep the moment he left him, Thorne stumbled into the bathroom and stuffed an electric toothbrush in his mouth. He yanked on his clothes as he chewed on the toothbrush. They’d both showered less than a couple of hours ago and shaved each other. He smiled as he remembered how Linton had chewed on his bottom lip as he’d dragged the razor over Thorne’s face.
Once he had both hands free, he finished cleaning his teeth and made room for Linton to use the bathroom. Last night had been great but Thorne kept getting the feeling Linton was holding back. He put it down to worry about Dirk, because that was the easiest explanation.
Linton grabbed his bag before they left and followed Thorne downstairs only to come to an abrupt halt, leaving Thorne to walk into him when a guy in a chauffeur’s uniform opened the back door of a black Mercedes E class.
Linton turned to Thorne. “I can’t let--”
“Stop making me feel guilty for doing this.”
“Sorry.”
“Get in the car. Don’t say sorry. Smile and say thank you.”
Linton gave him a quick smile. “Thanks. You shouldn’t have but thanks.”
He and Linton climbed in the back and Thorne told the driver to stop at the first café so they could buy coffee.
“I’ll get them,” Linton said.
“You stay where you are. You want a coffee?” Thorne asked the driver.
“I’m fine, thank you, sir.”
“Don’t move,” Thorne told Linton when the car pulled up.
When he climbed back in he handed the coffees to Linton and put three bags of pastries on the seat between them.
“Hungry?” Linton asked.
“Yep. I used a lot of calories up last night. You, on the other hand, just lay there.”
Linton laughed and Thorne felt relief seep through him. He could make this right. They were too good together not to try.
Linton’s eyes widened as they were led across the tarmac toward a sleek black helicopter that looked like a beautiful metal dragonfly. Chartering this Bell 407 GXP had to have cost Thorne a fortune. Forget making a nest of pebbles, Linton added another stone to his mountain of guilt. He should have told Thorne last night.
They’d been given a short safety briefing by a young guy called Mike who after he’d gushed over Thorne and his films, told them to avoid the rotor blades--well, duh! No smoking, no using their phones, no fooling around—as if Linton’s hands were going to be anywhere but gripping the seat. While for most of the time the guy’s gaze had been fixed on Thorne, at the end he’d given Linton a look that said lucky devil.
Linton climbed on board. There were two forward facing seats at the rear with a TV screen between and two rearward facing seats. Linton dropped into the furthest forward facing one as he’d been instructed and buckled himself in. Tight. Thorne sat next to him.
Mike stood at the open door. “Quick reminder. You need to stay in your seat with your sea
tbelt fastened at all times. Moving around will make the helicopter unstable. These are the emergency releases on the doors.” He pointed them out. “Don’t use them unless we’re on the ground and until instructed to do so, assuming instruction can be given. Helicopters can chop you and themselves in half so you need to always be aware of the blades.”
“Too much information,” Linton blurted.
“Sorry, but better to be wary than careless. Up to you whether you wear the headsets. The 407 is quiet compared to most helicopters, but if you are wearing the headsets be aware I can hear everything you say. While I’m talking to air traffic control please keep quiet. Read the safety card. Any questions, just ask and don’t press the orange button.”
“What orange button?” Linton asked.
“It works the ejector seat,” Thorne said.
Linton glared, Thorne and Mike laughed.
“First time in a helicopter?” Mike asked. “Yeah, me too.” He closed the rear door and climbed in the front.
“Oh God. A pilot who thinks he’s funny. Even worse, I don’t think he’s old enough to have passed his driving test.” Linton grabbed the safety card.
Thorne fastened his seatbelt, leaned back and stretched out his legs. “Don’t worry.”
There was something about those long legs encased in grey jeans, feet crossed at the ankle that triggered Linton’s slumbering lust. It caught like bubble-gum in his throat.
Linton dragged his gaze back to the card and began to read. “I’m testing you on this in a minute.”
“I’ve read them plenty of times.”
“So you know what to do if we land in the sea?”
“We’re not going anywhere near the sea.”
“Or if we come under attack from a Death Star?”
“Shit. I better read it.” But he didn’t.
Linton consumed every word and after he’d shoved the card back in the slot, found despite having told himself not to that he was clutching the edge of the seat. The large grey-tinted windows seemed insubstantial. He felt as if he were going to tumble out and they weren’t even airborne yet.
Thorne curled his fingers around Linton’s. “You okay? Have you been in a helicopter before?”
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