He gave a slight nod, and when Randy felt him relax a little more, he slid deep in one long thrust. Jack’s ass fitted against his pelvis perfectly like they were calibrated to be together. Words like there you are and home drifted through Randy’s head. The warm, velvet core pulsed around him and he thought this this this.
Jack sighed out “Randy” like a prayer and dropped his torso farther to give better access to his ass. “I didn’t know,” he moaned.
Randy wished there were no condom between them. It had been many years since he’d taken a man raw but he wanted that with Jack. He moved his hips, at first slowly until he was sure what Jack could handle, then faster when it became clear he was going to take whatever Randy wanted to throw at him.
Fears and reluctance apparently banished, he began to slam back with each stroke, accepting Randy deep in his body. Randy grunted and wrapped an arm around his chest to pull him into a standing position. He held that smooth, cool back against his own fevered skin as he bucked and twisted and jabbed with his cock. He knew he couldn’t last long at that pace but he didn’t care. He badly needed to get off.
He clamped his teeth on the muscle of Jack’s traps and took one hand off his hip so he could stroke his beautiful dick. “You may come,” Randy said. Jack arced his arm up and over his head to pull Randy down to bite even harder, then shouted as he exploded across the back of the chair and the floor and Randy’s hand.
“Don’t stop,” he begged as he convulsed in Randy’s grip. “Please, sir. Please keep fucking me.”
Randy was almost there and he pounded deep. Home home home. Jack pulled Randy’s spunk-covered hand to his mouth and licked come off his knuckles. That did it. Randy roared, holding Jack motionless as he let a wondrous orgasm surge from his toes, up through his legs and then erupt from his body.
Jack pulsed around his cock, and Randy trembled with the effort of keeping still. He fought the urge to thrust and rut, and instead let the beauty of a warm and soft body finish the job their fuck had begun. He threw his head back and gasped as the pleasure soared and his come filled the rubber buried in Jack’s ass. The orgasm ached in his teeth, it was so good. He shook and groaned as sensation carried him away.
Finally, finally, it ebbed, and Randy returned to himself, panting. He was on his feet still, holding Jack tightly in a bear hug. Jack was almost sobbing against him, his chest heaving with exertion. Reluctantly, Randy loosened his arms to let him go. He slid out carefully, pressed lips to his shoulder for a long moment, then dealt with the condom.
Jack turned to face him. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes shone with tears, but his hands flexed mindlessly. He was shattered, Randy saw. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do next.
Randy had this. He crossed to the bed, stretched out, and opened his arms. “Come here, Jack.”
And Jack did.
• • •
Randy woke from a doze a few minutes or a few hours later, he didn’t know which. He was spooned around Jack’s warm body, with one arm possessively, protectively, holding Jack against his chest. The muscles of his smooth back against Randy’s front shifted slightly.
“You’re awake,” Jack said softly without turning to him. “Well, more of you is awake. Something got up previously.” He twitched his hips slightly, and Randy realized his dick lay hard and hot up the crease of Jack’s ass.
Randy huffed a soft laugh. “It knows what it likes.”
Jack rolled his head slightly back toward Randy and showed a small smile. “I’d be happy to give him more, but you wrecked me. I don’t think I’ve ever been so used and wrung out.” Randy stiffened and started to pull free but Jack clutched the arm entwined with his. “I mean that in the best way, Randy. You were wonderful.”
He relaxed and dropped back down, then pulled Jack to him tightly again. He hadn’t woken up with another man in God only knew how long, and he permitted himself to lie there, indolent and peaceful. He soaked up the warmth of Jack’s body, heard the rustle of his hair against the pillow, smelled the lingering traces of leather, sweat, semen and something more artful. Not quite floral, but earthy.
Eventually, Randy asked, “What’s that cologne you wear?”
Jack murmured back, “Jo Malone’s Pomegranate Noir.”
It was curious, Randy thought. Normally, colognes were unwelcome in the scene because their scents interfered with the smell of leather the players craved and responded to, top and bottom alike. Randy had never before appreciated that some scents worked with the leather instead of masking it. Something new was in the air, the blend of Jack’s cologne and Randy’s gear. He breathed in the earthy and tart scent. It was delicious and yet dark, and he let it fill his imagination and turn the scent into colors. Deep red, of course, with jewel tones to highlight.
He could see a painting take shape in his mind, of Jack lying on his side, a pomegranate-colored sheet tugged just over the curve of his ivory hip. Perhaps the vague suggestion of a St. Andrew’s Cross in the background. That might be better than the nude he’d imagined painting before.
“Should we leave?” Jack asked, shaking Randy out of his half-dream.
“What? Oh. Yes, probably.” Randy hesitated. “Maybe. What time is it?”
“No idea.”
“Liam will charge me for the night either way. Do you need to get back to your hotel?”
Jack twisted around until he was facing Randy. His eyes burned intently even in the dim light of the room. “Not necessarily. My train to Philadelphia isn’t until Wednesday morning.”
Randy weighed the purpose of that comment. Was Jack obliquely reminding him of the issues with Sunrise? Or simply letting Randy know that his schedule was open but had an outside limit?
Perhaps Jack sensed the conflict he’d created because he slid his hand down Randy’s chest to his hip. “What I mean to say is that I would enjoy more time here with you, if that’s all right.” His hand moved lower, dragging across Randy’s taut stomach, combing through his pubic hair, wrapping around his rock-hard dick.
Randy tried to keep his happiness under control at the thought of more time in bed with Jack. Reasserting his dominant persona for both of their sakes, he let out a rumble of pleasure. He was gratified at the way Jack responded with glassy eyes and a slack jaw as he gripped the erection in his hand more tightly.
Randy rolled onto his back and kicked off the cover sheet. He folded his hands beneath his head and let Jack run hungry eyes up and down the length of his body. The admiration fed fuel to his own yearning for the lean, pale man who had a desire to please—a desire that perfectly suited his own.
He fixed Jack with a heated gaze. “We have all night. If your ass is too sore to take care of me, then I expect you to come up with another solution.”
Chapter Twelve
A polite knock woke them again a few hours later.
“Randy?” Liam called softly through the door. “It’s eight o’clock. I had Patrick deal with the parking meter for your truck so you’re good for another hour. The bathroom is available now, and I can have breakfast brought in unless you want to go elsewhere.”
Randy glanced at Jack, who gave him a smile and an indifferent shrug. Randy called out, “Thanks, Liam. Breakfast for two sounds good. Surprise us.” Liam knocked once to show he heard, then Randy leaned down to kiss Jack. It was safe and peaceful in the bed, and Jack was pliant beneath him. He wrapped his arms around Randy’s neck as they kissed, but when it started to deepen into something more he broke away with a laugh.
“Christ, no, you grizzly bear. My arsehole is shredded, my throat is raw, my cock is sore, and I couldn’t squeeze out one more drop of jizm at gun point.”
“That sounds like a challenge,” Randy said before he swiped his tongue up Jack’s neck and behind his ear. He inhaled Jack’s morning smell, all warm body and the remains of his cologne. Jack laughed again and jumped out of bed.
“Stay!” Jack held out his hands, palms up. “I’m going to shower. Alone,” he chuckled.
Randy let him go and took the minutes by himself to arrange his clothes. He wished he had something other than leather to wear home. Late in the evening, heading into a club, his gear was sexy as hell. The morning after, when the leather was cold and stiff—not so much. He should give some thought to leaving a change of clothes at Cuir. Not that an overnight stay happened often.
Or really, ever. Liam had never before had to wake him up and give him the bum’s rush.
Jack returned shortly with a towel around his waist and a plastic bag in his hand. “That was kind,” he said as he hoisted the bag. “The doorman brought up my street clothes from the coat check, and your leather jacket.”
“Doorman? Oh, Liam. He owns the place. Well, along with Patrick.” Jack pulled a nice pair of pants and a sweater out of the bag, and Randy was instantly jealous of the casual clothes. “Crap. I’m going to feel ridiculous leaving this place in my leathers.”
Jack paused in his dressing with his head just poking through the neck of the sweater. “You, walking the street in your jacket and those boots.” He hummed delightedly and his eyes sparkled. “That won’t be a walk of shame. It’s going to be a strut.”
Randy swatted Jack’s ass as he left to take his own shower. He hated to admit it, but his body was every bit as sore and used up as Jack described. He hadn’t had a marathon fuck session like that in a long, long time, and it turned out his workout routine inadequately prepared him for the specific muscles he’d employed. The hot water helped soothe his body, and Liam fortunately left thick, soft towels for his patrons. He charged them through the nose, but that was all right.
Randy had spent years visiting the standard leather and denim bars. The dark corners and back rooms had been decadent and exciting when he was younger, but as he matured, he tended to notice the sticky floors and the faded Tom of Finland posters more than whatever man had hold of his dick.
Or he’d leave with someone, only to find during the cab ride that his trick had nothing interesting to say. When an old friend invited him to Cuir for the first time, he noticed the difference right away. The lush decor of the place didn’t soften the decadence that Randy sought; rather, it worked like a jeweler’s tray. The sparkly edge of a man who needed what Randy could give shone brighter against the blue velvet of the club.
Once in a while, Randy went back to the old leather-and-denim hangouts, but he was spoiled by the world Liam and Patrick created at Cuir.
Randy was human again by the time he returned to the room. Food had been delivered in his absence; a tray sat on the low cabinet, and Jack was pouring two coffees as he entered. Dressed, Jack was as elegant and pristine as when he walked into Mata Hari the first time. As if Randy had not spent the night violating him in every way he could imagine.
“Do you take cream or sugar?” Jack asked. Randy muttered “both” as he contemplated the bed, where Jack had arranged his leathers neatly for him to put back on.
“There was a bit of spunk on the vest,” Jack observed as he handed a cup to Randy. “I think I got it all off, but you might want to have it professionally cleaned.”
“Thank you.” He opted to eat breakfast in his towel so he could delay dressing and then looking like a tool. Jack gestured for him to sit on the sofa, and brought him a plate loaded with a toasted bagel and lots of scrambled eggs. He fixed himself just a bowl of fresh fruit and a small helping of eggs, then sat next to Randy.
“I couldn’t eat like that and live,” Randy teased, with a nod to Jack’s breakfast.
“Yes, well, you’ve got quite a bit more bulk to maintain than I.”
“Y’know, that’s twice I’ve been called fat in less than a week.”
“Ridiculous.” Jack snorted. “You’re a solid mountain of a man and there isn’t an ounce of fat to be found. I checked. Now eat.”
“Hmm. Someone seems more prickly and less deferential in the morning light.” Randy said it with a smile to make sure Jack knew he was teasing.
Jack gave him a sly grin in return. “Well, perhaps I am overstepping my bounds. I might deserve to be corrected.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.” He kept to himself the question he really wanted to ask: When?
They ate in silence for a few minutes before Randy asked, “You came here as a guest of Jorge Castillo, right? How do you know him?”
Jack smiled demurely. “I met him in New York at a, um, party about a year ago.” Randy grunted. He could imagine exactly what kind of party they’d been to. “Jorge took charge of me for the evening and we became friendly afterward. Occasional texts, that sort of thing. Well, I recalled that he lived in Washington, so I contacted him when I knew I was going to be here. He invited me along to Cuir.”
Randy knew he was glowering, but he couldn’t help it. A surge of jealousy coursed through his body. He and Jorge often attracted the same type of man, and they’d been in more than one semi-friendly alpha male pissing contest over who would claim the hottest guy on a random evening. Normally it was a simple game to keep the scene interesting, but Randy found he hated the thought of Jorge putting his hands on Jack’s slender body.
Jack was watching him carefully with those warm brown eyes, and he looked away until a hand on his chin turned his face back. Jack leaned closer and said firmly, “It was one time, quite a while ago. We came here just as friends. Besides, you are ten times the man Jorge could ever hope to be.”
Randy turned red, both at the flattery and at how easily Jack saw through him. Resting a hand on Jack’s thigh, he admitted, “Last night was one for the record books. You brought out something in me I haven’t felt in a long time. Something good.” Ah, be honest with the guy. Randy cleared his throat. “Lately, it’s just an act. You know? I play a role. With you, though, it was natural and real. I wanted to make the decisions so that you could just be.”
It was Jack’s turn to seem embarrassed. He studied his bowl of fruit but flicked a warm glance back up at Randy. “It was, um, remarkable for me too. I’ve never been so free. That was a real gift.” Silence stretched as they both ate a little more, tense with the mixture of desire and self-disclosure in the room.
Clearly trying to change the mood, Jack said, “Tell me how you began collecting art.”
“Oh. Well, my uncle Kevin was the inspiration. My mother’s brother. He was a state trooper in Maine.” At Jack’s puzzled expression, he clarified, “A policeman. Kevin and his partner Luc took me to museums and galleries and got me interested. I studied art history for a while in college, but then Kevin was killed in the line of duty and I decided to go into law enforcement instead. But I already had the collecting bug, so when I traveled I bought pieces that appealed to me.”
“Your uncle sounds like an interesting bloke.”
“He was. He really taught me about being a man.”
“What about your parents?” Jack asked cautiously. “Were they supportive of you?”
Randy snorted. “No, not at all. My father always tried to get me to say Kevin was molesting me, and my mother just wanted me to get along with my father. She probably loved Kevin in her own way, but she was deeply concerned with appearances. She hated that Kevin lived openly with Luc, and she couldn’t understand why I would want to spend time with the two of them. When I came out to her, she was only worried about what to tell the priest and neighbors.”
Jack murmured quietly, “I know something about the desire to preserve appearances.” He offered nothing more, however, and the quiet between them was risky. As if they were both on the verge of baring souls.
Before either of them could say something too revealing, Randy decided it was time to address one of the other elephants in the room. “So. Brousseau.”
Jack shot up his head, and the eagerness in his gaze moved Randy. Jack badly wanted to see Sunrise, but the nerves he displayed had to be there because he wasn’t sure whether he would finally be allowed. Fair enough. Randy hadn’t exactly been accommodating before, but it was time to ease Jack’s fears. “I don�
�t currently keep that painting at my house. I’ll have to call to see when we can go by.”
Disappointment and hope warred together on Jack’s expressive face. He scrubbed his hands on his thighs, shook his arms, and blew out a deep breath. He rolled his shoulders. “Thank you, Randy. This means a great deal to me. You can’t know the years I’ve invested in this project. What it would mean for my career.”
“I can tell it’s important to you. I hope you’re right.”
“If I am, you’ll be a wealthy man should you choose to sell.”
“That isn’t why I hope you’re right.”
Jack gave him a puzzled frown. He pondered Randy’s words, and the moment lingered like the tart scent of spice and earth in the dark. Finally, he asked, “Then why?”
Randy met Jack’s gaze and admitted softly, “You want this so much. I’d like to see you prove yourself.” He wanted to say, but didn’t, that he’d like to be the one to help Jack claim the victory. He could imagine the joy that would transform Jack’s handsome face into something glorious, and he wanted to be there to witness that moment.
Perhaps Jack understood anyway. He leaned toward Randy. “I’m very grateful. I mean it. Sophie told me I should have been more open from the beginning, but I was terrified my research would be stolen.”
“Sophie?”
“My fiancée. She told me before I came that I would need to be honest, but I find it very difficult.”
Randy stopped chewing. “Your fiancée.” He set his plate down carefully, then swallowed the suddenly-unpalatable mouthful of eggs.
“My world is extremely cut-throat. If a colleague angling to make his own name knew what I was on to—” Jack ceased chattering as he became aware that something in the atmosphere had changed. Randy was still. Tight. Controlled.
Jack quirked his head, and alarm shot through his eyes. “Is there a problem?” he asked.
Randy shook his head, finished his coffee, and stood. “No problem.” He went to the bed and began to dress. He felt stupid as he pulled on his jock strap and tugged up his leather pants. What a fuckup he was, not bringing a change of clothes in case he stayed. Idiot.
Lying Eyes Page 12