by L. A. Witt
“We’re not far from the hotel,” he said over his shoulder.
“Then you’d better work fast, eh?”
Rolex’s hands moved more rapidly, fumbling with the top button and then the zip.
Over Rolex’s head, Tristan caught Jared’s glance. Jared was obviously turned on, his lips a little puffy from making out with Rolex and his pupils already blown, but there was something else in his expression. Just the slightest hint of a furrow between his eyebrows.
But as soon as Rolex went down on him, that expression vanished. Jared’s eyes closed, and he let his head fall back against the seat as he combed his fingers through Rolex’s neatly styled hair.
“Is he good at that?” Tristan asked, forcing the seductiveness into his voice. “What’s he like?”
Jared’s lips moved, but he made no sound, said nothing, though his fingers tightened in Rolex’s hair, and his hips pushed up from the seat. Sound of leather against leather. Hip bones visible. Trim, flat belly exposed as his T-shirt rode up. That tiny, vulnerable-looking belly button that Tristan had licked last night because Jared was ticklish there and Jared’s squirming made him laugh.
“He’s . . . he’s good.”
Tristan could see that—Rolex sure wasn’t shy about sucking cock, fitting almost all of Jared’s into his mouth on the downstroke, and he used his hand to add friction.
“Come on. Good?” Tristan moistened his lips and leaned forwards, elbows on his knees. “Good means nothing.” I’ll give you better than good. “Is he going to make you come?”
Jared nodded, getting seriously breathless now. He wasn’t faking it, either. Jared could fake it well enough to satisfy the most mediocre john, but he obviously enjoyed what Rolex was doing, and he wasn’t going to last much longer. He normally had more stamina, would be more controlled, but he was throwing himself into this at full speed. “If he k-keeps it up like that, I’m gonna blow.”
Tristan changed seats, sitting beside Jared, eyes on the john, who, yeah, glanced at him over Jared’s dick between his lips. Tristan grinned. “You going to let him?”
Rolex made a low sound, a groan that was almost a growl, and doubled his efforts on Jared’s cock. Jared whimpered softly, and Tristan couldn’t resist—he slid a hand around the side of Jared’s neck and kissed him. Jared grabbed his shoulder, holding on as he kissed Tristan back. He was breathless, his skin hot, and he wasn’t doing that gentle, teasing kiss that drove Tristan out of his mind. He was demanding, forceful, making Tristan wonder if he’d wind up coming himself before the car stopped.
Jared tensed. He pulled in a breath through his nose, and his grip on Tristan’s shoulder was almost painful, fingers twitching and digging in harder. Though his eyes were closed, Tristan could feel Jared’s body moving beside him, hips thrusting as much as this position would allow, legs shaking.
The car slowed a little, and must have turned because everyone’s center of gravity shifted slightly. The motion pushed Jared against Tristan, and then he tensed again, and shuddered, and Tristan kissed him even more aggressively because it was the only way to keep his mind off how fucking jealous he was that it was Rolex, not him, tasting Jared’s orgasm.
The car stopped.
Tristan broke the kiss. Jared slumped back against the seat with a soft, satisfied sigh.
At Jared’s feet, Rolex sat up, the gold watch beneath his sleeve catching the light as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. A hint of sweat glittered at his hairline, and like Jared, he was out of breath.
“We’re here.” He rested a hand on Jared’s knee. “Let’s go inside.”
They’d just arrived at the hotel, and Jared could barely stand up. Making out with Tristan while getting his dick sucked? There were few things in the world that could make him come harder than that. And Rolex’s oral skills on their own were nothing to sneeze at either.
He stepped out of the limo behind Tristan and Rolex, pausing to get his legs under him. Tristan glanced at him, another odd expression on his face.
C’mon, Tristan. Don’t start. Not now.
But then Tristan slid his arm around Jared’s waist, steadying him, and they continued towards the hotel lobby. They’d been to this hotel before—together, alone, with Rolex, with other johns—but he had to admit, he was glad for the guidance towards the lift. His head was still spinning too much to navigate anything more complex or less familiar than his own flat. Or Tristan’s.
The lift doors opened, and Rolex gestured for them to go in ahead of him. Then he pressed the button for his floor, slid in his key card, and—
Tristan kissed Jared.
He pushed him right up against the wall of the lift, hard, leather-covered cock pressed against his hip, and kissed him.
Jared was almost too dazed to kiss back, but he could trust his body to respond. Tristan immediately thrust his tongue into his mouth, and Jared didn’t even think of resisting, though it was weird that Tristan was getting so rough here without first pulling some money out of the john for the show.
“Leave me some.” Rolex touched Tristan’s shoulder, brushing Jared’s fingers, and from how Tristan’s body tensed there for a moment, Jared almost expected Tristan to shrug him off.
Don’t. That would be too . . . weird. Yes. Weird.
Tristan opened his eyes and all but glared at Jared before he broke away.
Was that for me? Or Rolex?
A second before things would’ve become unbearably awkward, the lift dinged.
Rolex herded them down the corridor until they got to a door. He swiped the key card, and the lock’s LED flashed green on the first try.
“Sweet home away from home.” Rolex let Jared and Tristan go in first, then followed and hung up the “do not disturb” sign. This was one of the more upscale rooms; pretty large overall, and even the bed could easily hold three people. Especially three people who didn’t mind getting really close.
Rolex looked around, then grabbed an armchair from the corner and dragged it over to the foot of the bed. He nodded to Tristan. “Why don’t you take off your jacket and shirt and sit for a moment?”
Tristan eyed the chair, the bed, and only then the john, as if he came a very distant third in terms of priorities. “It’ll cost you.”
Rolex shrugged. “I can afford it.” He nodded sharply towards the chair. “Sit.”
Tristan’s eyebrows rose. Normally, Jared would’ve had to smother a laugh at someone attempting to tell his partner what to do, but the irritation that flashed in Tristan’s eyes kept Jared’s humour in check. No doubt about it: something wasn’t right. Jared was tempted to bail, apologise to Rolex, and drag Tristan out with him so they could settle this before it got out of hand.
Without a word, though, Tristan lowered himself into the chair. Jacket on. Shirt on. But in the chair. His lips were tight and his gaze still fixed on Rolex, expression hovering between his usual poker-faced seductiveness and the weird undercurrent that had been there since before Rolex had shown up at Market Garden. Yeah, Jared and Tristan needed to talk.
Rolex watched Tristan for a moment, his eyebrow quirked as if he too sensed something wasn’t right.
Jared tried to swallow the panic rising in his chest. They could still do this. Whatever was on Tristan’s mind could be sorted out later so long as the two of them did their job and pleased their john. So long as Rolex was satisfied, they—
Rolex slid an arm around Jared’s waist, exactly as Tristan had done when they’d stepped out of the car, and kissed him. He wasn’t as aggressive as Tristan had been in the lift, but this was the most demanding his kiss had ever been. He pushed Jared’s lips apart with his tongue, and pulled him right up against his body, letting Jared feel every inch of that impressive cock through their clothes.
This was the third time he’d been in a room with Rolex, but he’d never seen the man naked. Oh, he’d seen his dick a few times, but everything—shirt, trousers, jacket, even that distinctive watch—had stayed on.
<
br /> With his hands on Rolex’s chest, Jared gently pushed him back. “Shirt.” He swept his tongue across his lips. “Take off your shirt.”
Rolex grinned. “Never thought you were the type to give orders.”
As he’d learnt to do from Tristan, Jared kept his expression neutral. “Well?”
The man’s eyes widened slightly, but then he hooked his finger in his necktie and loosened the knot. Once it was untied, both sides of the undoubtedly expensive tie hanging over his shirt, he started on the buttons.
Jared turned towards Tristan. He was absolutely still, one foot on the floor and the other propped up against the foot of the bed, expression betraying nothing.
Was it something I said? Something I did?
Maybe Tristan was getting bored with him. Or maybe, between work and play, the sex was wearing him down. Perhaps he was tired of splitting the money. Well, that wouldn’t make sense. When they worked together, they each made more than they did alone. Whatever his issue was, he wasn’t—
Oh, hello.
Rolex had shrugged off his jacket, and then his shirt. Well. Now Jared knew how the man passed his time when he was in America and not working or fucking the odd rentboy. He was clearly well acquainted with the inside of a gym. Even flawless genetics didn’t give someone abs like that. Jared’s fingers curled at his sides as he resisted reaching out and running his fingers down the gorgeous, contoured muscles.
Rolex grinned. “Something wrong?”
“Wrong?” Jared returned the grin. “Absolutely not. Just wondering how those abs would look with a few teeth marks on them.”
Rolex laughed, trailing his fingers along his belly in what might’ve been an unconscious movement. “So much for my idea that you were the meek and mild one.” He winked, but Jared could tell he was intrigued, and definitely turned on.
Interesting. Though Rolex had butted heads with both Tristan and Jared, Jared still wasn’t sure if Rolex didn’t actually like losing on some level, or whether he was just that good-natured. Maybe the tug-of-war was the real reason he was willing to pay so much money? Some guys liked working for it, especially if everyone else in their lives obeyed them without question. On the other hand, Rolex knew exactly what he liked and how to get it.
Of course, Jared’s job was to not only get him off, but push all the other buttons, too. That was most of the fun in this line of work, apart from getting off.
Rolex bundled up his tie, shirt, and jacket and placed them on the bureau against the wall. He took off his gold watch and set it on top of the pile, along with his wallet and mobile, before turning to Jared. “Now it’s your turn.”
Jared liked undressing in front of people. He was good at it—he’d taken off so many clothes with a background of music and disco lights that nothing could faze him. For the moment, he didn’t strip-dance so much as borrow a few tricks of the trade—how he angled his body, how deliberately his fingers moved. It was all about projecting confidence, and giving a taste of what awaited the john. His fingers reached the button of his trousers and slowly, suggestively, freed it, and then he glanced at Rolex, who nodded.
Well, then. Jared opened the fly and pushed his trousers down, legs straight, pushing out his arse in full view of the client. His briefs were snug and rode low—he’d made sure of that beforehand—and as he took them off, the “don’t touch” rule didn’t apply like it did in a lap dance. Rolex grabbed his arse with both hands, grip firm and demanding, and pushed up against him. Not enough to make Jared overbalance, but more than enough to let him feel that long hard cock without the leather between them.
If not for Tristan’s scowl, this would have been so much fun. Before he’d started this thing with Tristan, he wouldn’t have hesitated to shag Rolex for the fun of it. The money was just a bonus. Having Tristan in the same room—hell, having him at the same time—was even better.
Except tonight.
Jared closed his eyes to avoid looking at Tristan. Which made him feel weird. And guilty. And—
Fuck, Rolex was nibbling his ear. Mostly lips, a little bit of teeth, just enough to make Jared lean against him for support. Those firm, flat abs were hot against his back, and Rolex’s hands roamed all over Jared’s body, from his chest and stomach down to—but not quite touching—his cock. It hadn’t been all that long since Rolex had blown him in the car, but Jared was already plenty hard, and every time Rolex’s hands slid over his groin, he moved his hips to try to guide the man’s fingers to his cock.
Rolex, though, was a fucking tease. He trailed a fingertip along Jared’s groin, letting the nail bite in just enough that it probably left a white trail on his skin. He pulled Jared’s hips back, grinding his clothed cock against Jared’s bare arse, and he alternated between nibbling his ear and kissing his neck. One hand drifted up the center of Jared’s chest, then to the side, and when Rolex pinched a hardened nipple, Jared’s eyes flew open, instantly meeting Tristan’s.
The scowl was gone, but Tristan’s expression was anything but neutral. His eyes were locked on Jared’s, his lips apart, and from the way his chest was rising and falling, he was breathing almost as hard as Jared was.
“I’m going to fuck you,” Rolex declared in Jared’s ear. “While he watches.”
Tristan swallowed. So did Jared.
“Does that turn you on?” Rolex asked.
It should. It should turn me on more than anything. But—
“Yeah,” Jared managed to whisper.
Tristan broke eye contact for a second, taking a couple of slow breaths before looking up again. He shifted in the chair. The foot against the bed moved to the floor, and the other came up to replace it against the footboard. The front of his leather trousers was pulled tight across his erection—at least he wasn’t turned off by all this. In an alarming state of mind, maybe, but he was aroused, which was a relief. And a turn-on.
“Still need to get some clothes out of the way.” Rolex rubbed against Jared. “Maybe you should do something about that.”
“That’ll—” Tristan cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. “That’ll cost you a couple hundred quid.”
Jared met Tristan’s eyes, and a slight grin appeared on Tristan’s taut lips. Well, that was promising.
“A couple hundred quid to have him strip me down?” Rolex gently turned Jared around to face him. “Worth every penny.”
Jared licked his lips. “Guess I should earn it, shouldn’t I?” He didn’t wait for a response before he knelt in front of Rolex. He slid his hands up from Rolex’s knees to his belt, letting his thumbs brush either side of the man’s erection.
Rolex gasped, grabbing the side of the footboard for balance. “Jesus . . .”
Jared glanced up at him and gave him a little grin before he started unbuckling the belt. He made even that into an exaggerated, seductive motion, sliding his finger under the leather and slowly, carefully pulling it through the belt loop. Once the buckle had come apart with a jingle, which seemed to echo in the otherwise silent room, Jared tugged the belt free a little at a time. Then he turned around to drop it behind him. As he did, he caught Tristan’s eye.
Tristan bit his lip and shifted again, though he kept his feet where they were this time. Hoping that was a good sign, Jared winked at him and, as he turned back towards Rolex, was rewarded with a quiet creak of leather. As he’d done before, he ran his hands up Rolex’s legs, slower this time, pressing his thumbs against the insides of the man’s thighs as he inched towards his groin.
“Holy fuck,” Rolex whispered. “Is there anything you two can’t make sexy?”
“Still looking for it.” Jared added all the suggestiveness he had to a lingering upward glance as he, more or less blindly, opened Rolex’s trousers. Rolex kept staring into his eyes, kept the contact there, and the intensity just ramped up. And up. Jared was so caught up in the moment, he nearly forgot what his task was. All the heat, all the anticipation pooled in his body, head to toe, and he could feel it was the same for Rolex
, who swallowed, but didn’t break away.
When Jared took those finely tailored trousers and slid them down, inch by inch, brushing that fully erect cock all the way, Rolex’s abs tightened, but he still didn’t break the contact. Jared grinned and placed a kiss on his cock head under his briefs. That did it. Rolex’s knees shook and he closed his eyes. “Tease.”
Jared grinned and pulled the trousers all the way down, then slid the shoes and socks from Rolex’s feet before he removed the trousers fully.
Wow, he had nice legs. Many gym rats focused entirely on the shoulders and pecs, but Rolex was both ripped and well balanced. Jared rubbed his face against one of the hairy thighs while sliding his fingers under the waistband of Rolex’s designer briefs. He definitely liked the smell of this guy, and how easy it was to find the right buttons to throw him off his game. This was fun. Could have been so much more fun if not . . .
Next time we talk beforehand, all right?
He pulled one side of the briefs down and kissed the exposed soft skin there, traced a fine blue vein that snaked alongside with his tongue.
Rolex’s body trembled. “My God . . .”
“He’s good with his mouth, isn’t he?” Tristan’s voice was as odd as his mood. Not quite steady, not quite . . . well, not quite anything. Tense? Shaky? Turned on? Irritated?
Jared slid a hand up over Rolex’s cock, and as he did, he looked over his shoulder at Tristan. His expression was as unreadable as his voice.
Come on, Tristan. Get it together until we’re done here. You’re a professional!
Jared turned towards Rolex again, and when he was absolutely certain his back was to Tristan and the john wasn’t looking at him, he rolled his eyes.
Then he went back to undressing Rolex. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and slowly drew them down. The man’s cock was impressive—not as huge as some of the guys who worked at Market Garden, but big enough that Jared knew he’d be feeling him for a day or two. Just the way he liked it.