by Anna Zabo
Justin’s heart wanted to race its way out of his chest. “Was I that obvious?”
Eli moved closer. “Obvious? Yes and no. It’s hard to judge when someone is merely trying to be edgy.” He stopped inches from Justin and leaned his cane against the corner of the railing. “That afternoon in my office, however . . .”
God, his dick hurt. Next time, looser jeans. “That’s why I’m here.” The railing bit into his back. “After that, I needed . . . wanted . . .” Discipline. Orders. To feel Eli’s hands on him.
“What you need is to start finishing your sentences.” Amusement, but also annoyance. So very Eli.
“That’s hard with you right in front of me.”
“You poor thing.” Eli purred the words—and stepped in closer.
Justin’s pulse thudded in his ears. “I don’t know what the fuck to do.”
In the diffused light of the deck, Eli’s eyes appeared black. “May I touch you, Justin?”
“Yes.” He exhaled the word. Please, please touch me. He’d figure out how bad of an idea this was later. All he wanted was—
Eli traced his gloved hand against the side of Justin’s neck.
That. Eli’s touch. Every nerve shook. When Eli tucked two fingers under his leather collar and yanked him forward, he moaned. That was swallowed by Eli’s mouth.
Eli kissed like the devil himself. Hot, demanding, possessing. Tongue forcing past lips, that leather-wrapped hand tighter around his neck than Justin’s collar. Body pressed in against his.
Justin groaned and opened to Eli. If he had any doubt about Eli’s attraction, that was dismissed by Eli’s leather-covered bulge grinding against Justin’s.
If Eli kept doing that, he was going to come just from the friction and Eli’s mouth on his.
Eli broke the kiss, but didn’t pull back. He rolled his hips. “A little hot under the collar, are we, Mr. White?” His lips brushed Justin’s with every word.
“So are you.” What he wouldn’t do to have Eli kiss him again.
Eli nipped his neck and the scape of his teeth tightened Justin’s balls. “Care to do something about it?”
God yes. But he could not afford to lose his job. Eli gripped his neck and cupped his ass. “I—need to think.”
“Do you?” Eli opened up a space between them—thank God. Another minute would have had Justin moaning in ecstasy.
“We’re coworkers.”
Eli stroked his thumb along Justin’s jawline before pressing it against his jugular. Not hard, but enough to turn Justin’s legs into jelly. Fuck.
“So?”
“So, what do we do?” It came out as a whisper.
Eli stepped back. “As I see it, you have two choices. You can go back into the house, find another man to give you what you so obviously want from me, and have your friend take you to your home and life will go on as it has for the past two months.” There was a hard edge to Eli’s voice.
“Or?” Justin pushed the word out between his lips.
Eli tugged at his gloves. “Because of you, I came here tonight to tie a man up, flog him, and fuck him. If you want to be that man, you better get on your knees right fucking now.”
Justin let go of the railing and sank. There was no other option. Everything else—Sam, Mercy, the job—fuck if he knew. All that mattered was Eli.
Eli stepped in and took hold of Justin’s chin. “That’s what I thought.”
God, his grip was strong. A hard edge to every one of Eli’s words, too. “Still need to talk,” Justin whispered.
“And so we shall.” Eli didn’t loosen his grip. “Right after I come down your throat.”
Oh fuck. If that didn’t make his entire body shiver. He let out a small moan.
Eli released Justin’s chin and stroked his cheek. The warm soft leather of Eli’s glove slid over Justin’s skin like silk. “Assuming you agree, of course.”
“Yes, please.”
A smile, finally. “Very good.”
Every inch of Justin’s skin felt like a live wire, just from Eli’s touch, his promise of what was to come.
Another caress of leather against Justin’s cheek. “Hands behind your back, like in the office.” Eli tipped Justin’s head back and looked him in the eyes. “If you need me to stop, raise a hand.”
Doubtful he would—but a good sign. Justin did as told, settling into a wider stance—as much as his tight jeans would allow.
“Well, isn’t that a pretty sight.” Eli undid his belt buckle and the top button of his pants before stepping forward. “Use your teeth on the zipper.”
The scent was intoxicating. That deep, rich smell of tanned leather. Justin pressed his mouth against Eli’s hard length under leather, ostensibly hunting for the zipper.
Eli threaded his hands into Justin’s hair, curled his fingers, and yanked. Oh fuck, that hurt so good, like lightning from his head to his feet. He panted against Eli’s thigh.
“The zipper, Mr. White.” Gravel in Eli’s voice.
This time, Justin searched for and found the piece of metal. He caught it between his teeth and pulled it down, each tooth clicking as it released and split open to reveal dark curls against pale flesh and the root of a very hard cock. Justin kissed the shaft. He leaned backed as Eli freed himself from his pants.
Stunning. Not overly thick or long, the perfect size to slide down Justin’s throat. Eli was cut, of course. The smooth head was wide and beaded with moisture. Justin licked Eli’s slit and was rewarded by a gasp from Eli. He pulled the head into his mouth and pressed the underside with his tongue.
This time, Eli moaned and tightened his grip on Justin’s hair. “This is a fine way to keep that mouth of yours quiet.” He pulled out and thrust in. “How much can you take, Justin?”
Justin flicked his gaze up and met the devil’s smile. Just you wait. With Eli’s next thrust, he opened his throat and let the cock slide in deep. Eli tilted his head back and the sound he made—half groan, half shout—sent pinpricks over Justin’s skin.
“You love this.” Eli drove forward until Justin’s lips slid up to the root. “Don’t you?”
God yes. Especially when Eli held him there, his cock thick and full in Justin’s mouth and throat until Justin struggled to breathe and his eyes watered.
Eli pulled back, giving Justin just enough time to snatch a breath before sliding in again. Over and over, until Justin couldn’t tell their grunts and moans apart. Hard, even strokes plowed into Justin’s throat. The sharp sting of his scalp—Eli must have tightened his grip—only made Justin relax as his balls tightened. He hadn’t ever come from giving a blow job, but he wasn’t exactly giving, not with Eli in control. Heat sparked down every limb and Justin’s whole body shuddered. He moaned around Eli’s shaft.
“Don’t you dare come,” Eli panted the words. “You don’t get to come yet.”
Every nerve fired at once when Eli thrust deep into his throat and he flew. The pain in his balls, his throat, the tightness of his lungs demanding air, the bliss on Eli’s face as he looked down—pushed him higher until time stretched thin and took all the pain and turned it into heaven. Tears ran down his cheeks.
That steady rhythm faltered and the pull on Justin’s hair became almost unbearably tight. Eli came with a guttural cry that seemed to echo through the night. Heat, salt, and musk flooded Justin’s mouth and he swallowed as much as he could before his lungs had him gasping for air.
So good.
Eli’s grip in his hair slackened and he leaned on the deck railing, sheen of sweat on his face, his breath coming in gasps.
Justin pressed his head against Eli’s leg and panted. After a minute, Eli chuckled. “That was—very well done.” Eli caressed his cheek and he couldn’t help nuzzling the gloved fingers. The gravel in Eli’s voice, his breathlessness—to have made this man crack and come? Heaven. Justin forgot how much his balls ached, how much his knees hurt. It had been some time since he’d given head like that.
Eli placed a finger under
Justin’s chin and pushed up until Justin found himself staring into Eli’s amused face. “Tears?”
“Happens sometimes when I can’t breathe.” Or when he was completely blissed out of his skull. “That was rough.” His throat ached, dusting his words.
“Too rough?”
No. It had been perfect. “Did I raise my hand and ask you to stop?”
Eli’s amusement deepened, as did his voice. “Don’t get cocky with me, Mr. White.”
Like that would stop him.
Then reality slammed back in. “Oh God, what are we going to tell Sam?”
“Sam?” Eli ran a finger up Justin’s chin and held it before Justin—some of the semen that had leaked from his mouth. Justin sucked it off the leather. “Do you mean the man watching us through the glass door?”
What? Ice ate its way up into his brain and he looked over at the door.
Holy shit. There were quite a few people watching them. Embarrassment crept over Justin like an itchy blanket. And there was Sam.
But not Sam from the office. No, this Sam’s button-down hung open and a chain swung between clamps on his nipples. Behind him stood Michael—not Jimmy from the photo, but an imposing man tailored into a suit, a man who made everyone else at the door seem insignificant.
Justin looked back at Eli. Fucker was grinning from ear to ear, even though his cock still hung out of his pants.
“Sam’s kinky?” That . . . actually explained a lot.
Eli’s laugh was full and real. He tucked himself back into his pants. “Sometime, ask him how he met Michael.” He glanced at the door. “Or ask Michael. Might be more . . . educational.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to be educated by Michael. Eli, however . . . “We really need to talk.” Preferably before fear settled into his chest and the little voice in the back of his head took over.
“Yes, we do.” He collected his cane. “Can you stand?”
Maybe. God, he hoped so. Justin grabbed the railing and hauled himself to his feet. Yup. Standing. “Looks like it.”
Eli pulled him into a kiss that nearly took his legs out from under him again and drove away all doubt that this was right. Hot, demanding, seeking. Everything Eli did curled Justin’s toes.
“I am proud of you, Justin.” Eli ran a finger over Justin’s lips. “Such a lovely mouth you have.”
Bastard. He sucked Eli’s finger.
The hard head of Eli’s cane stroked against Justin’s bulge. “And you didn’t come.”
“Not yet.”
“You won’t. Until I tell you, yes?”
“I’ll try not to.”
Eli’s fingers were under the leather, pressing against Justin’s throat. “You’ll do more than try, Justin. Do I make myself clear?”
He moaned. “Yes. Very clear.”
“Good.”
* * *
Eli tugged at Justin’s collar, delighting in the tremble that followed. No mistaking the way Justin had opened to him, obeyed him, and taken his dick—the passion for surrender was truly there under Justin’s snark. The thrill of finally touching Justin, of ordering him, of pounding that lovely mouth pushed Eli away from the fear of What the hell do you think you’re doing?
Justin. He was doing Justin, and screw everything else at the moment.
“Let’s find somewhere to sit.” He nudged Justin toward the sliding glass door and the crowd gathered there. “Walk in front of me.” It took Justin a moment to obey—no doubt he was still zoned out. Eli’s skin tingled and heart pounded from the taste of Justin’s mouth and his own spunk.
Justin stepped forward, shoulders squared, head high. Good. That boded well for later.
Sam slid open the door. Pink-tinged cheeks, as likely from the nipple clamps he loved as from their little show. “Took you long enough,” Sam said.
Justin shrugged. “Late bloomer.”
“Bullshit.” Sam met Eli’s gaze. “I think you owe me a second dinner, E.”
Sam’s grin slipped into a shiver when Michael pressed his hand to the flat of Sam’s stomach. “Not the time, nor the place to make demands of Eli, Sam.”
Eli coughed a laugh. “Thank you, Michael.” He touched Justin’s shoulder. “Back the way we came, if you please.”
The warmth of the hallway and the press of people were cloying compared to the deck. Some of the looks Justin received—envy, astonishment, jealousy—ripped through Eli. Yes, he’s mine. No, you are not.
This part of the Scene Eli disliked, the desires of others wrapping around him. He chose his own path, much to the dismay of many.
A man reached out to brush his fingers over Justin’s arm—but Eli swung his cane up, knocking the offending hand away. “Don’t even think it.”
Justin faltered, turned.
“Fuck, that hurt!” The man clutched his hand.
“It was supposed to.” This one he knew. Brandon or Brad. Something like that. One of the men who stood too close, flirted too hard, and always smelled faintly of cheap beer when he arrived. “You know the rules.”
“Eli?” Probably too buzzed to have even noticed the other man’s gesture.
“You’re fine.” Eli slid a hand up Justin’s spine and savored the shiver. Everything he’d dreamed about . . .
B-something opened his mouth. “I was just—”
“Do I need to fetch Master Lyle?”
“You don’t.” Lyle cut through the crowd, opening a swath before him. “I’ll handle this.”
He’d owe Lyle later, even though it was the host’s job to handle such disruptions.
“What . . . I missed something.” Justin continued forward.
“Someone was about to touch something that didn’t belong to him.” The hallway opened up into the great room, and Eli moved next to Justin, his hand tightening around his waist. “I am not inclined to share tonight.”
“Oh. I don’t think I would have liked that. Not so soon after . . .” He glanced back down the hall. “Do you share?”
One of so many questions that needed to be asked and answered. Eli pointed farther into the room with his cane. “Couch.”
With the warmth of Justin against his side, his shirt sliding against Eli’s gloves, every step was a delight. Justin was an obedient, blue-eyed thrill. And Eli’s, at least for the moment.
They reached an empty two-seater couch. “Sit, please, Justin.”
He did, though his movements were jerky. Hesitant. Eli folded himself down next to Justin. “How are you feeling?”
Again, Justin looked back the way they’d come. “Did we really just—?” A warble in his voice. “Do you really want . . . ?”
There was the panic Eli felt building in himself, too. One way to fix that. He set his cane on the ground, then stripped off his gloves, aware he had Justin’s undivided attention. He placed the gloves on the armrest. “Every time you fail to finish one of your sentences, I’m going to add a stripe to your backside.”
The lovely blush was back. Justin swallowed, his hands twisting around themselves in his lap.
“That’s four, I believe.”
Justin’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not fair. Two of those were from before you . . .”
Eli waited for Justin to continue. He didn’t. “Five.”
Justin shuddered. “Fuck.” But he didn’t look away. Didn’t protest.
Perfect. Time to start negotiating. Eli leaned forward and caught Justin’s collar again. So very handy that had been.
“Eli, I . . .”
A sharp tug and Justin’s mouth was his. As before, every muscle in Justin relaxed when Eli forced his tongue past Justin’s lips. One of them moaned. Justin still tasted of salt—intoxicating. However, they did need to talk. Eli relented and broke the kiss.
In between gasps for air, Justin said, “That better not be six.”
That mouth never quit. “I won’t punish you when I make you fail to finish, but I’ll add another if you give me attitude.” He kissed Justin’s neck above the leather collar.
A tremble and a hiss. “You like when I give you attitude.”
Eli nipped the skin. “Six.”
Justin groaned. “See?”
“Seven.” Eli laughed. “Such a masochist.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Eli pulled Justin onto his lap and continued tasting and nipping the skin at his neck. Well, conversation could wait a bit.
“Can I—can I touch you?” Justin’s question was half moan, half breath.
Finally. “Yes.”
Magic word. Justin tangled his hand into Eli’s hair and ran the other down Eli’s back. “You are so hot.” He arched and exposed more of his throat.
Eli licked down to Justin’s collarbone and kissed the flesh there. “I want an honest answer this time, Justin.” Eli drew back. “How are you feeling about this?” Maybe if he had Justin’s answer, he could find his own.
The eyeliner around those bright eyes was still perfect. Waterproof, no doubt. “Better now.” Justin placed his hand against Eli’s chest. “This is a hell of a first date.”
Laughter and joy rose in his chest. “First implies you want another.”
“Oh God yes. Even when I hated you, you set my blood on fire.”
Hated? Eli pulled back farther. “What reason did I ever give you to hate me?”
Justin played with one of the buttons on Eli’s vest. “You didn’t. You were . . . cold. Standoffish, compared to Sam. And this past week, we weren’t exactly getting along.”
Well, that was true. Eli cupped the back of Justin’s head and pulled him down, shifting so that their limbs tangled and Justin’s head rest on his shoulder. Justin melted into him, except for the bulge he rocked ever so slightly against Eli’s thigh.
“Sam is a people person.” Eli toyed with Justin’s hair. “I’m not.” This week had been evidence enough of that.
“I can’t believe Sam’s a sub,” Justin murmured. “He’s so . . . dominant in the office.”
Sam was, enough that Eli deferred to him almost naturally. “Sam’s a masochist. He’s a submissive for Michael, but I don’t know if he’d be so for any other man.”
Justin’s heart thudded against Eli’s chest. “Wow.” He pushed himself up, and there was the calculating man Eli glimpsed at work. “You know quite a bit about him.”