What if Harley took what he wanted, then cancelled the check? He doubted the artist had such malice in him, but then he’d been plotting to seduce Ryan all this time, so who knew how his mind worked?
What Ryan did know was that, apart from being desperate for the cash, he kind of owed it to Harley for hitting him. Which was ridiculous, because since when was giving another person your body equal remuneration for punching them? If that were the case, Ryan owed a lot of men his body.
Long seconds ticked by as they stood regarding each other, Harley’s mouth still bleeding and him still holding the check out to Ryan.
Ryan went out into the kitchen. He plucked some tissues from a box on the counter and handed them to Harley, who followed him and took them without thanks. He dabbed gingerly at his lip, then reached out and laid the check on the counter. “You can cash it first, if you want. Come to me when you’re ready.” And he left the apartment without another word, closing the door quietly behind him.
Ryan slumped down on the couch in shock.
Harley stood looking at his bruised lip in the mirror, relieved no teeth were loose. He’d deserved it, he guessed, for calling Ryan a whore, because that was out of line. At the end of the day, the man only did what he could to survive, and the aura of sadness around him didn’t come from enjoying prostituting himself, that was for sure. Harley was still angry with Ryan for hitting him, but not angry enough to retract his offer. The anger merely made him more determined to have Ryan in his bed. There would be no feelings and no love involved, and Harley would have bought every last kiss and caress Ryan gave him, he told himself fiercely. But that was okay, because Harley had a vivid imagination. He could pretend Ryan had come voluntarily to his bed. He doubted Ryan would come at all, though, but nonetheless, he would shower and shave and change into some nice clothes and then he would sit like an idiot and wait for the man who held his delicate heart balanced in the palm of his hand.
It would only be once. Ryan screwed his eyes up in disgust as he imagined himself entwined with another man. But this wasn’t any other man. This was Harley, a man Ryan liked and respected. A man who had burned his mouth with his kiss six months ago and who Ryan had not stopped thinking about since. What would he be expecting of him? A blowjob? A rim job? To be flat out fucked six ways to Sunday? He imagined Harley on all fours, himself behind him. Surely if Harley is so desperate for me, he’ll come as soon as I touch him and then I can go home. He can’t force me to stay any longer if I walk out. He can cancel the check if I don’t satisfy him, though. What if he expects me to be some sort of sexual stallion and go all night? What if I can’t get it up?
He didn’t imagine Harley to be sexually insatiable, but then he couldn’t imagine Harley sexually at all. He couldn’t see the other man naked and writhing on a bed in ecstasy, try as he might. But what Ryan also couldn’t imagine was that he would have any trouble getting it up with Harley. He doubted Harley was the type to lie back and let Ryan satisfy him, giving nothing in return. Harley wasn’t a selfish person, and Ryan could bet he wasn’t selfish sexually, either. There was also the fact it had been a while for Ryan, and so a touch by any person at all was likely to inflame him. He could use that as an excuse when he got an instant boner with Harley.
He leaned back on the couch with his eyes shut. Can I do this? Can I actually do it?
Chapter Ten
In the six months since he’d seen Ryan, Harley had moved on from pining over a man he would never have. His manager, Nathan, had been making overtures toward him for a long time, and the day after he’d kissed Ryan, Harley had fallen into bed with him, deliberately and calculatedly. Afterward, he blamed Ryan for driving him into Nathan’s arms when he wasn’t sure he wanted to be there, and he withdrew, telling Nathan it had been a mistake.
Nathan, a cocky, confident, worldly man and almost the antithesis of Harley’s quiet, mellow persona, was persistent, though. He chased Harley relentlessly until, lonely and heartbroken over Ryan, Harley was back in his bed once more.
Their relationship hadn’t progressed very far in six months. Nathan pushed to make it serious, pushed to be allowed to stay over at Harley’s or for Harley to come to his, but Harley always refused to spend the night with him. He kept Nathan at arm’s length, to the other’s frustration, and he denied the charge when he was accused of having someone else.
Because of course, there was no one else. Nathan had seen Harley disappear into the corridor with Ryan at the gallery last night, though, and there followed a fierce question and answer session in the bathroom later, while outside, people fought over his painting of Ryan. Nathan knew of Ryan and knew Harley had been painting him six months ago, but had never got the full story of the fight which had led to Ryan finishing sitting for Harley before the painting was completed. He asked Harley bluntly if he and Ryan had been sleeping together.
Harley told him no, but Nathan was suspicious anyway, wanting to know what had transpired between them. He badgered Harley so forcefully that Harley eventually snapped.
“I kissed him, okay?” he shouted. “And the guy’s straight. He didn’t want me. That’s why he stopped sitting for me. Happy?”
Nathan had regarded him a moment. “Do you still want him?”
“Does it matter?” Harley responded in exasperation. “I’m never going to get him, whether I want him or not. He’s fucking straight!”
Nathan looked like he was sucking lemons. He stormed from the bathroom and disappeared from the gallery.
Sitting at home now, Harley knew he should call him, but he was too consumed by Ryan’s impending arrival. He’d only ever used Nathan as a substitute for what he couldn’t have, he realized in a moment of clarity, and he felt ashamed of that fact.
Ryan lifted his hand and knocked on the door. His heart was in his throat. He asked himself over and over again what he was doing and how he was going to go about it. He smiled awkwardly at Maria when she swung open the door.
“Ryan!” she exclaimed, as though he were a long lost friend, and his smile deepened in gratitude at this welcome. “Come in, come in.” She ushered him inside. “Harley’s upstairs in his room.”
Of course he was. Ryan glanced up the stairs with trepidation. Where else would he be? “Is it all right if I go up?”
“Of course. Can I bring you up a drink?”
Ryan very much wanted a drink, preferably something to steady his nerves, but he could hardly have Maria knocking on the door just as he and Harley were getting down to business—and he didn’t intend to beat around the bush. He intended to be in and out, literally—so he would have to refuse.
“No, thank you,” he said politely, and Maria nodded and waved him toward the stairs before she took her leave.
Ryan climbed them slowly, going around the curve of the landing to stand before the closed door he remembered as Harley’s. He stood there a moment, running a hand over his cropped hair as though it were out of place and clearing his throat before he knocked.
“Come in,” Harley called from within.
Ryan turned the handle and pushed open the door. Harley stood inside the large, bright room, just turning away from the full-length mirror to face him. He’d shaved, and his dark hair hung damply over his eyes. He’d changed into a black shirt and pants. Ryan couldn’t help but think he looked good and was relieved he himself had showered and put on some decent clothes. Harley was evidently taking this seriously.
They stood and stared at each other for the longest time, neither moving until Ryan spoke.
“What do you want?” He made his tone unfriendly and his gaze cold.
Harley hesitated only a split second before he replied in an equally hostile tone, “I want you to fuck me.”
There. It was out in the open now. There was no pretense between them. Harley had always wanted this from Ryan and, to his shock, the words made a fire ignite in the pit of Ryan’s stomach. He bit his lip, afraid and striving to retain control of the situation.
“Take of
f your clothes,” he growled.
He saw Harley’s expression change, then; an unmistakable softening of the eyes, a look of hurt and disappointment. The man who’d stood with the cold look on his face telling Ryan so clinically what he wanted had gone, replaced by Harley, the man Ryan knew was decent through and through.
“What?” Ryan demanded, his tone lower.
Harley shook his head, averting his gaze. “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. What’s wrong with you?”
Harley sighed loudly. “I know you’re pissed at me, and I think you’ve got every right to be, but do you have to be so…aggressive?”
Ryan arched a brow. “Aggressive?”
“Yeah,” Harley snapped back. “Do all your bedroom encounters start with you demanding your partner takes their clothes off?”
Ryan regarded him coolly. “I’m sorry, is romance supposed to be included in the price? Give me another thousand, and I’ll light some fucking candles and sing to you.”
“Asshole,” Harley spat. He turned away, unfastening his shirt and wrenching it off, tossing it on a nearby chair. The curve of his spine was elegant, his shoulders broad, a tribal tattoo at the base of his back, a little smaller than Ryan’s. Ryan stood watching as Harley moved to close the curtains, blocking out the sunlight, but still leaving adequate light in the room.
Harley started to unfasten his belt. He looked over his shoulder at Ryan as he unbuttoned his jeans. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to at least partially undress in order to penetrate me,” he sniped.
Ryan glared. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shirt. Then he stalked forward, gripped Harley by one biceps and tossed him onto the bed.
Harley gave a gasp of protest at the rough treatment, but Ryan only covered his body with his own, naked torsos pressed together, gripping his wrists and holding Harley’s arms above his head.
Harley struggled, his amber eyes flashing fire. “Is this the only way you can get off, dickwad?”
Ryan pressed him down harder, one thigh between his, more than aware of the erection nudging his hip and how Harley was not so subtly trying to rub it against him. Their faces were so close that their noses almost touched. Harley’s breath came in ragged, angry pants.
Ryan looked down and studied the plump, parted lips, the perfect white teeth revealed behind them, the mouth moist and pink and almost…swollen with need. His gaze darted back to Harley’s, and his jeans started to tighten steadily. Harley’s eyes were bright beneath the dark hair falling into them, the pupils huge with desire, and suddenly Ryan broke.
He leaned down and captured Harley’s mouth in a fierce kiss. He felt the effect of it sweep through his would-be lover’s entire body. Harley groaned deep in his throat, his mouth opening under Ryan’s, his body bucking up and undulating beneath his as though to try and press every part of himself against Ryan, his hands thrashing in Ryan’s grip to get free.
Ryan let go, and one of Harley’s arms immediately wrapped around his back while his other hand held him strongly by the back of his neck. The kiss deepened and their tongues met. Ryan tasted the moist, sweet heat of Harley’s mouth, and bliss danced through his veins, his cock rigid against Harley’s leg, the other man gyrating his pelvis sensually and deliberately against him.
He heard himself panting for breath. Harley’s hands moved down his back, short nails scratching lightly, to grope at his ass, pulling Ryan hard against him.
Ryan thought he would lose his mind. What was happening? They were both still semi-clothed and already Harley was doing enough to bring him toward climax. He pulled out of his embrace and sat back on his heels, reaching out to drag down the already unfastened jeans, revealing the bulge in Harley’s boxers.
Harley lay passively beneath him, letting Ryan move on to his boxers and strip him so he lay there naked. Ryan’s gaze moved slowly over him. Harley’s body was infinitely pleasing, lean and subtly muscled, lightly tanned apart from around the upper thighs and groin where he’d worn shorts. His cock, a little over average length and circumcised, rested rigidly against his belly.
Ryan got up off the bed to undress, with the blood pounding in his veins. He was going to do it. He was going to fuck Harley. For money.
He tossed his jeans and boxers aside and climbed onto the bed, pushing Harley’s thighs apart with his hands so he could kneel between them.
Harley’s gaze traveled over his body, and Ryan waited for the comment most of his partners gave when they saw the size of him fully erect, but Harley said nothing, nor did he look worried at being able to accommodate him.
Neither did he point out how surprisingly hard Ryan was for a straight guy doing this for money, and for this, Ryan was grateful. Maybe Harley was grateful, too, that Ryan was going to be able to perform without coaxing. Their gazes met intensely.
All the aggression Harley had accused Ryan of having had leached from him. Now he was just nervous and anxious as to how to progress. Did Harley expect foreplay? He hardly looked like he needed foreplay, shifting as he was sensually on the bed in frustration, his hands gripping the covers, a pale drop of fluid glistening at the end of his cock.
Ryan guessed he could stick it in and go, but maybe Harley wanted more. Maybe if Ryan tried to cheat him out of the full experience, he would cancel the check. Hesitantly he reached out his right hand and laid it on Harley’s thigh. The other man shuddered as it travelled up the silky inside of his muscular limb, fingertips moving over his balls before they curled around the base of his shaft and he started to lightly slide Harley through his palm.
Harley caught his breath, his neck arching back, his eyes closed, his hips bucking up.
Jesus, he was a sensual creature. Harley’s body rocked to the tune of his hand, his thick lashes trembling on his cheeks, his tongue running over his lips, leaving them glistening.
Jerking off another man didn’t feel as wrong or sordid as Ryan had thought it might. In fact, it was kind of hot. He couldn’t imagine doing this to anyone other than Harley, though. He couldn’t imagine actually being…fascinated by his ability to arouse another man. But here he was, and his heart was beating so hard now, his cock crying out for attention, and he was ready, God he was ready.
As though reading his mind, Harley sat up abruptly. He leaned over to the bedside table. Ryan’s gaze travelled down his back and onto his pert ass. He put out a hand, keeping Harley in place when he tried to turn back.
“Stay like that,” Ryan told him in a low, excited voice.
Harley did as he was told, curling onto his side, deliberately bringing one knee up so his buttocks were spread. Ryan swallowed, kneeling behind him, taking the tube Harley held out to him.
He opened the cap, squeezed cool liquid onto his fingers, then used his left hand to spread Harley open to him so he could see where he was going.
He located the puckered entrance, rubbing it slowly with his fingers, massaging the lubricant in until Harley opened up and accepted one of his digits. The other man groaned, his face buried in the pillow, his arms around it. Ryan moved to lie down against him. He pressed his lips to Harley’s shoulder and moved his finger in all the way.
Ryan wasn’t an expert at this. He’d dabbled this way with women in the past and always hurt them. He didn’t want to do the same to Harley. He might feel inclined to cancel Ryan’s check if he couldn’t walk the next day. He eased another finger into Harley and used them both now rhythmically, backward and forward, listening to Harley’s little pants for breath and longing to cut to the chase.
Something sharp scraped against his thigh. Ryan looked down to see Harley pushing a foil square at him. Eagerly he withdrew his fingers, ripped open the condom and rolled it on one-handed. Then he coated it thickly with lubricant.
As Ryan curled himself against Harley, the other man trembled with need. He took hold of himself and rubbed the head of his cock slowly between Harley’s cheeks, leaving lube glistening on the pale, smooth skin. Harley quivered as Ryan’s other hand came up
to hold his forearm hard above the pillow while he pushed into him.
Oh, Jesus, it felt like heaven. Harley enclosed him like satin and moaned loudly as Ryan glided into his depths, his hand groping behind him to grab at Ryan’s thigh fiercely.
Ryan sank in as far as he could go, then he stopped a moment with every inch of his body pressed against Harley’s and sweat beginning to seal their skin together. His lips touched the closely cut hair at the back of Harley’s neck while his hand moved around to his partner’s groin to jerk him off.
Harley cursed under his breath. He gasped with every thrust as Ryan started to move gently into him, building his rhythm. With eyes closed, Ryan tasted the sweat-dewed skin of his lover’s neck and let the sensations overwhelm him. This was something else.
This lean body pressed against his, the tight muscle surrounding him, the noises of appreciation spilling from Harley’s lips. This was better than anything Ryan had ever had in his life.
He moved faster, and Harley became noisier. His head fell back against Ryan’s shoulder, and Ryan devoured his throat. His hand worked Harley’s cock steadily. Harley shuddered all over, trembling and writhing in ecstasy.
He craned his head around to kiss Ryan, who possessed his mouth greedily, panting hard for breath.
Harley’s head fell back again. “Ryan,” he groaned. Ryan felt him clench around him hard.
He spurted jerkily into Ryan’s hand with a cry as Ryan buried his face against Harley’s neck, his own orgasm rising to sweep away all rational thought on a tidal wave of blistering ecstasy.
He continued to thrust into Harley until he’d ridden out every last wave and he slumped exhausted against his partner, his heart thundering against Harley’s back.
They remained motionless together for the longest time. Ryan moved his sticky hand and rested it lightly on the curve of Harley’s hip. He kept his eyes closed as he softened within Harley, unwilling to draw himself free.
Life Class Page 6