Wound Tight (Made in Jersey #4)

by Tessa Bailey

  Milo wanted to kiss him so badly in that moment, he had to breathe through the impulse. But it didn’t go away. “Who else makes the same products?” Once again, Renner looked surprised by the line of questioning, but managed to rattle off a few names. “Great. Let’s pitch them. If this other company doesn’t want us—even though we’re literally the best—we’ll make it really easy and cheap for his competitors to use our factories. And why wouldn’t the competitors give us their accounts? On top of lowering costs, they’re going to get a tax break from the government for using green manufacturing. They would be crazy to turn you down, and guess who’ll come looking to make nice?” Milo jerked a thumb at the file cabinet. “Those suckers.”

  Renner stared at him so long, a drip of sweat rolled down Milo’s spine. Okay, maybe he’d gone way out of his league, trying to spitball manufacturing strategies, but at least Renner wasn’t laughing at him. Yet.

  He’d just decided to drop the whole subject and remind the boss to eat his lunch when Renner came toward him. Not slowly, either. He moved so fast, he knocked Milo off balance, but Renner caught him around the lower back with a steadying arm. It was unbelievable how fast Milo was turned on. Snap. Less than two seconds had passed since Renner stormed closer, and by the time their mouths locked together, Milo’s cock was the weight of a fucking sandbag, hoisted up against the fly of his pants, nudging Renner’s own erection.

  Renner’s free hand molded to the back of Milo’s head, pulling him close, holding him so tightly their teeth grazed each other’s lips, before deepening the kiss. Jesus, when their tongues got into the action, they both sank, sank, groaning like it had been way too long, when it had only been a matter of hours. And a lot like last night, Milo could feel himself losing the battle with reality right away, his mind zeroing in on the friction of Renner’s beard and the possessive quality of his hands. But with his last remaining ounce of clarity, he recognized his need to make it about Renner.

  The indignation hadn’t gone away. At all. He was still pissed on Renner’s behalf. How long had he been going through this shit alone? Now that he knew the gist of the situation, he could piece together the phone call from last night. Enough to know the business partner wasn’t exactly supportive. Someone needed to be. Someone needed to remind Renner he was the badass who walked into a factory full of people every day who eye-rolled behind his back—and got the damn job done.

  They came up for air, and Milo realized Renner was backing him toward the desk, one hand gripping Milo’s hair, the other unhooking his security belt. It was Milo’s instinct to let Renner lead, too. He recognized that part of himself and kind of loved it. Not right now, though. He was determined to get Renner right where he wanted him.

  “Go sit down,” Milo managed through heavy breaths against Renner’s mouth.

  Clearly planning on ignoring the order, Renner hooked his fingers in Milo’s belt loops and tugged him up onto desk—impressive, considering Milo was a big man himself—and moved in, groaning for another kiss, palms sliding up the insides of Milo’s thighs.

  Going for there. God, he needed touching there. So bad. Bad.

  But he needed something else more.

  Milo eluded Renner’s mouth, putting both hands on his shoulders and shoving hard, putting the boss man in one of the meeting chairs facing the desk. For a few heavy breaths, he was torn between needing to take advantage of Renner’s surprise…and needing to look. Because shit, the man wasn’t himself in that moment. He was kind of a mess, his hair fucked up, buttons open halfway down his chest. In the sprawled position, his legs were spread, drawing attention to the bulging ridge at their center.

  Renner wiped perspiration off his upper lip with a slow drag of his thumb. “Did you just push me?”

  “Yeah.” Milo slid off the wooden furniture and finished unhooking the security belt, leaving it on the desk. Then he went down on his knees, nerves tap-dancing in his stomach. “That’s right, boss man. I pushed you.” He swallowed hard before rubbing a palm over the outline of Renner’s hard cock. “I wouldn’t recommend reminding me you sign my paycheck right now.”

  Renner’s stomach heaved out, then shuddered back in. “Why is that?”

  Bracing his upper arms on Renner’s sturdy thighs, he leaned close, licking the seam of Renner’s fly, tasting the throb beneath. “Because I might have to stop. And I’m feeling pretty eager to learn.”

  “Fuck.” Renner’s hands slapped down on the armrests, his knuckles turning white. “You do have to stop. This is…this isn’t even on my rule list because it should never get this far.”

  Milo unhooked Renner’s belt, letting it sag to either side, before lowering his fly. “See, in the manufacturing business, we call that a loophole.”

  Renner gritted a curse. “You’ve got a smart mouth, don’t you?”

  “I think that’s what we’re trying to find out.” A sound wafted down between them. One Milo had never heard before. Renner’s laugh. It was rich and bold and smoky. His fingers actually forgot what they were doing for a second, before he resumed the task of lowering Renner’s zipper. “You’ve got a great fucking laugh, you know.”

  Milo tugged down Renner’s briefs and wrapped a fist around the insanely thick root of Renner’s cock, bringing his erection out into the open. “You have a great laugh, too,” Renner wheezed. Actually wheezed because of Milo. “I’m just never the one who makes you do it. Never will be.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Milo murmured, barely cognizant of what Renner had said or the importance of it. Later. He would think about it later. Right now, there was a dangerous fear of failure squeezing his gut. He’d never given head to a man before. And he was starting with the top of the food chain. Hadn’t his fifth-grade teacher told him to aim high? Why are you thinking about fifth grade? “God, you look like you taste so good.”

  “Milo.” Renner’s fingers tangled in his hair, urging him to look up. “We shouldn’t be doing this. Not here. I—”

  Milo licked out with his tongue and circled the head of Renner’s dick, bringing a growl out of the other man that poured him full of blistering heat. “I want to suck you off right here. I want you to remember me on my knees, my head bobbing up and down between your legs, next time someone tries to fuck around with you. Or tries to make you forget that you run shit.” Another, longer lick. “You’re the man, Renner. So sit back, watch me make you come, and feel like it.”

  Of course, now that he’d talked a big game, he had to back it up. His nerves weren’t building, though, they were calming, because there was simply no room for them. Lust had a stranglehold on his insides, the rock-hard flesh in his fist feeling seven thousand shades of right. He really hadn’t imagined the act of getting on his knees as much as he should have, but already Milo knew that was going to change. God yeah. Because as soon as he enfolded the fat head of Renner’s cock in his mouth, instinct came roaring to the forefront.

  “Shit, go easy,” Renner near-shouted above him. “You swallow me whole, this is going to be over way too fast.” He tugged on Milo’s hair while he shifted in the chair, positioning himself like a king. Leaned back, thighs spread. “I’m going to enjoy that smart mouth more than I have the right to.”

  Milo didn’t want to go slow. He wanted to experience all of it at once and have the mysteries of the universe solved before lunchtime. The taste. Christ, the taste. A little salty from the moisture that had beaded at the tip when he’d given that second lick…and Irish Spring soap. Milo racked his brain trying to remember what he liked most during a blow job—besides imagining a man giving it to him—and everything came into smooth focus.

  The thickness stretching his lips wider every time he went down, then pulled up nice and slow. He ran a firm thumb along the underside of Renner’s cock, gliding it through the slickness his mouth had left behind, flicking his tongue against the tip. And yeah, Renner liked that a lot. Liked being teased a little bit. Jesus. Just knowing this big, commanding man wanted to be tortured made M
ilo’s own cock swell in his pants.

  “Take it out,” Renner rasped. “Take out your dick and jack yourself off for me. But if you stop giving me what I need, I’ll make you put it back away. I don’t care how pretty it is to look at. You understand?”

  Milo nodded, so out of his mind aroused now, he couldn’t follow the demand right away. He fisted Renner’s cock at the base and hollowed his cheeks out sucking him hard. The other man jerked in the chair, his hips thrusting toward Milo’s mouth, broken curses punctuating the air. And that’s when Milo went back to slapping the tip with his tongue.

  “Shit. Shit. You aren’t even talking and that mouth is still being smart, isn’t it?” He pulled on Milo’s hair until it stung. “I told you to take out your cock.”

  Milo’s groan was shaky as he took Renner halfway to his throat, dropping his hands to his fly to work the button and zipper, his haste making him clumsy. He hummed around the flesh sitting on his tongue and gripped his dick, freeing it from the uniforms pants…and another hint of saltiness coated his tongue.

  “That’s right. I love that smooth piece of yours.” Renner urged Milo’s head to suck, tugging it closer to his lap. “Wasn’t always your ass I was checking out in those fucking pants, was it? No, I used to go crazy wondering who was taking care of it after hours. It’s mine right now, though, so stroke it off like I asked you to. Make us both come hard.”

  He’d never imagined that beating himself off could be better than sex, but with Renner thick and hot in his mouth, it was like a prolonged orgasm from start to finish. He actually had to stop stroking and apply pressure to his balls more than once to stop from letting loose too soon. God. Fuck. Renner’s dick was growing in his mouth, his hips starting to shift around like he couldn’t sit still, and those noises. The noises he was making. Grunts and rushes of breath and gritted moans. They were the best kind of music because it was Milo pleasing him. No one else.

  Should he be feeling this level of pride over that?

  Was it because it was a man…or because it was Renner?

  Renner. Renner.

  “You need to come a lot faster this time. Faster than it took you in my hand.” Renner’s big body shuddered beneath his mouth and Milo sucked harder. Took him deeper until his eyes went glassy with reflexive tears and still—still—he wanted more. All. “Is that because you’ve got your throat open for me, wide enough to swallow me whole? You love it so much, your dick can’t handle it?” Renner growled, his hips pumping off the chair. “Fuck. I’m so hot watching you make up for lost time with my cock. You can’t get enough. Just like I can’t get enough of that pretty-boy mouth.”

  Milo needed Renner to know the answer to those questions, whatever they had been, so he swirled his tongue up to the tip and let the head go with a pop. “Yes. Yes. I love it.”

  “Then stop holding back, goddammit. I want to watch you come.” He hissed out a breath and Milo felt the dam start to break inside him. Felt the increased throb of Renner’s cock in his mouth and God, he was eager. More eager to taste the flood than set loose his own. “Give yourself a hard jerk, Milo, the way I did it. Harder. That’s right. Come in your hand and get me the fuck off.”

  Milo knew his teeth were going to clamp down so he released Renner from his mouth, shouting into the coarse skin of the other man’s shaking inner thigh. He could sense the strain, could sense Renner holding on. His huffed half breaths, half moans were the final proof his end was near. As soon as the highest peak of Milo’s climax passed, he wrapped his lips around Renner’s cock and pulled, using both hands to massage the base in a twisting motion.

  And he would fantasize about what happened next for the next fifty years. Renner’s big hips arched off the chair and he pulled Milo’s mouth tight, tight against his lap. It seemed involuntary, but Milo didn’t give a shit. It was incredible. Thickness crowded in his mouth, heat met his constricted throat, and all the while, Renner ground out a roar, his hands like iron on the back of Milo’s head. It hurt, it was coming home, it was finally the meaning of sex he’d been looking for, and he never wanted it to end.

  Milo didn’t realize Renner had released him until he heard his own deep, gulping breaths. Until he felt the tightly woven carpet under his hands and saw he’d fallen backward. He looked up at Renner, more than a little fascinated by the sight of him wincing and putting his still-shiny cock away. “Milo.” Renner zipped his pants and leaned forward, swiping away the sweat on his forehead. “I shouldn’t have made you take that much at the end. No one should ever handle you like that.” His exhales were still shaky. “Especially me. I knew it was your first—”

  “Why are you apologizing?” Milo tilted his head to the right and wiped his mouth on the inside of Renner’s knee. “That was my favorite part. I loved it.”

  Renner’s forehead gathered like a storm. “You loved it in general? Or with me?”

  All movement ceased between them, but inside Milo’s chest, the tempo of his hammering heart increased. Wap wap wap. He’d been subconsciously asking himself the same question…and he thought he might know the answer now. Maybe he’d suspected it for months and he’d just been waiting for fate to take a hand, because he’d been too green to do it himself. Renner had fascinated him and awed him from day one, but he’d grown to know the man and his habits and gripes…and the good parts, too. Like this moment. His visible concern as he leaned down, his right hand flexing as though it wanted to touch Milo’s cheek, but didn’t understand the impulse.

  That wouldn’t make Milo’s chest ache unless there was a damn good reason, and he’d learned to follow his instincts. Did putting aside his hopes with Travis make him…flippant, though? The weight pressing down on his lungs didn’t feel anything but genuine. Not even a little bit. But maybe he needed more time to examine so he didn’t jump into something with Renner…and end up disappointing him.

  “I-I think…” Milo gained his feet, Renner’s eyes following him like a hawk. “I don’t know—”

  “Look.” Renner stood and moved past him in a blur. “I wasn’t really thinking straight. You don’t have to…” He laughed, but there was no humor in it this time. None of the rich smoke. Milo died a little bit over the lack. “You don’t have to have exclusive feelings for someone to enjoy that,” Renner said briskly, nodding back toward the chair where he’d been sitting. “Just forget I asked.”

  “I don’t want to forget,” Milo said, growing pissed. Mostly at himself for not just following his gut. He’d severed something by balking at a simple question. But he’d given the right answer, hadn’t he? Didn’t make it any easier watching Renner shut down after making himself vulnerable. Fuck it, Milo was pretty damn exposed himself at the moment, too, after what they’d done. It was a two-way street. “And maybe I do need exclusive feelings to enjoy what we did. I’m just not sure yet.”

  “Well.” Renner hit a few keys on his computer, morphing back into work mode. “That’s something you need to work out on your own.”

  Milo’s skin drew taut, hot spikes climbing the back of his neck. There it was. Full-fledged pissed-off-ness now. “If you’re going to throw me back out on my own after every time something happens between us, then maybe you’re working it out for me.” In desperate need of air and maybe a beer or two, Milo stormed toward the door. Throwing it open, he stopped and gave a sweeping gesture toward the blow job chair, as it would henceforth be known. “And by the way, you’re welcome, you prick.”

  He pretended not to hear Renner sighing his name as he slammed the door.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Renner was a senior in college when he had his heart shattered.

  As an adult, he could look back and laugh. There was never a ring of truth to the laughter, however, because the impact had been deep. Deep enough to rearrange the frozen tundra of his emotions. Renner’s father was a cold, calculating asshole, but he and Renner had somehow managed to retain a decent relationship. There had been a few years of silence after his father treated Samantha poo
rly in the divorce from her mother, but they shared business news when they had time. There was a definite strain now, but that was par for the course with two men who rarely delved below another person’s surface.

  Until Renner had met Kieran, the rowing team captain who would eventually ditch him for a teammate, Renner had been happy with short acquaintances. Usually older men with no affiliation with the university he attended, although there had been one ill-advised evening with a professor during sophomore year. The way he’d operated with men had been very similar to how his father dealt with women. Quick and detached.

  So he’d been shocked when one night hadn’t been enough with Kieran. Shocked and more than a touch apprehensive. How did one proceed in asking for a second date? What would it be like when their appetite for sex wasn’t so urgent? Turned out, he didn’t have anything to worry about. Or so he’d thought. Renner and Kieran had fallen into a routine of classes, work, nights in the city, mornings in bed, weekends out of town. Renner had even met Kieran’s mother.

  Renner had bought a ring. Christ, how embarrassing. He’d had a whole proposal worked out. A plan to get married in Vermont. The simple piece of jewelry had been burning a hole in his pocket the night Kieran broke it off. At the same coffee shop where they’d met. While the new boyfriend had waited at a corner table, buried in the shadows.

  Fifteen years later, Renner could still remember that sinking feeling he’d had from the moment Kieran walked into the place. How the sensation had grown more and more ugly until he’d been sure he would vomit. And that was before his suspicions were confirmed. After that, the ugliness had just poured out, in the form of backhanded insults and the ruination of every memory they’d created together.

  To this day, the ugliness continued to pour out, apparently, if this afternoon with Milo was any sort of proof. Hell, he’d fucked up. In more ways than one. First, he’d forgotten the lesson he’d learned in college, letting his guard drop and all but begging Milo to burn him. While the reminder had still glowed hot, he’d reverted back to his bad habit of striking back at the other man where it hurt. Thinking of the way Milo had withdrawn, like he’d been cracked in the jaw by a baseball bat, was the reason Renner had been sitting at his kitchen table for an hour without moving. Staring at his car keys.