“Calling him by his first name is disrespectful?”
“It establishes boundaries.”
Boundaries. That word hit him hard, and he had nothing to say in response. What did the word boundaries mean to Clint Duke? He insisted Evan call him by his first name in public, giving them the appearance of a more casual relationship than employer and employee. Why?
“The senior Mr. Duke had a woman fired for calling him by his first name.”
That explained why. In the short time Evan had known Clint, he’d witnessed the man behave the exact opposite of his father. Well, at least what Evan had read about the senior Mr. Duke.
“Did you have a question, Mr. McKoy?”
Tommy’s voice pulled Evan’s attention. “Yes. I pushed the button for the penthouse, but it didn’t work.”
“I’m afraid it’s locked. Without a key you won’t be able to access the penthouse suite, which is why Mr. Duke asked me to provide this for you.” He handed Evan a keycard.
Evan stared at it. The magical card. Was this the same as getting a key to his place? They’d spent less than one week together. One week. As infatuated as Evan was with Clint, it hardly warranted a key to his place.
He’d use it to deliver the tux and leave it with Clint. They weren’t there, yet. Maybe someday, but not today. With a smile and a nod, he thanked Tommy and stepped into the elevator, dropped the keycard into the slot, and pushed the button to the penthouse suite.
17
The elevator whooshed Evan to the top floor and dinged, announcing his arrival. When the doors opened, Evan drew in a deep breath and stepped out. There’s no going back now.
He didn’t see Clint, so he hurried past the kitchen and up the stairs to deliver the tux. The closer he got to the top of the stairs, the more his nerves tightened. He turned and made his way down the hall and slowed as he passed the door to the playroom.
Was Clint already in there setting up for tonight? What did he have planned? Were they going to ease into it? Or was he going to completely immerse Evan into the lifestyle? Sort of like ripping off the bandage instead of taking one arm hair at a time.
He giggled nervously and shook his head at the analogy. Flattening his hand on the door, he pulled in another breath and slowly released it. He could do this. He could give himself over to Clint, if for one night. He could completely submit, allow Clint to do whatever he wanted with his body. To his body.
He could do this.
Breaking free of the hold the door to the playroom had on him, he hurried down the hall and knocked on Clint’s bedroom door before entering. As soon as he walked in he heard the shower, and the image of the man’s body, slick with water cascading down his muscles, had Evan’s pulse skyrocketing.
He entered the walk-in and stopped, completely in awe at the sight. Even the closet was bigger than Evan’s apartment, with shelves, drawers, and rows and rows of clothes. He took another step, his mouth falling open at the sight. So many things. So many beautiful things. He listened for the shower to make sure he wouldn’t be caught. It was still running, so he hung the tux on a nearby bar and moved deeper into the closet of his dreams.
When he opened one of the drawers, subtle lighting glowed at the display of watches. Another drawer had nothing but cufflinks. Every drawer peeled back another layer of the man. Socks. Ties. Boxers. Clint definitely liked blues and reds, which made sense. Power colors. He was a powerful man in a powerful position.
He bit back a groan when he ran his fingers over an entire drawer of fine silk handkerchiefs. Oh, screw it. He released the groan.
“If touching them gives you that much of a reaction, you should try being blindfolded by one.”
Evan jumped away from the drawer as mortification burned into his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I was just… And this is… And there’s so much…” His brain short-circuited.
Clint didn’t remove his focus as he entered the closet in nothing but a towel wrapped low on his narrow waist. He stopped next to the open drawer and removed a red handkerchief. It was longer than Evan expected. No way was it for a breast pocket. Judging by that look in Clint’s darkening gaze, he was about to find out exactly what he used it for.
“Turn around.”
He did and swallowed hard as he waited. When Clint placed the fabric over Evan’s eyes, he blurted out, “What are you doing?”
“I’m taking away one of your senses. Since you’re so easily distracted by the things you see, I’m removing that distraction.” The heat from Clint’s body melted into his, warming him. He rested his lips against Evan’s ear as he spoke, the hot, wet breath tickling across his lobe. “It’s after seven. What did I say would happen if you were late?”
Evan trembled, from fear or arousal he wasn’t sure. Maybe a little of both. “I had to take that call.”
“You disappointed me.”
Jesus, just hearing those words crushed him. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry,” he repeated and backed away, leaving Evan alone and cold. He didn’t like it.
“Sir,” he added in the hopes Clint would come back.
Clint took his hand and stepped toward the closet door. Evan shuffled, scared he’d trip. “Pick up your feet.”
“What if I fall?”
“I won’t let you. Walk as you’d normally walk.”
“Clint.” He inhaled sharply, suddenly very aware of the fear pulsing through him. He was putting all his trust in someone else, leaving him feeling helpless. Weak. Evan McKoy was neither.
“Stop.” He touched Evan’s cheek. “Trust in me completely. Now, walk.”
He did, stepping forward as if he weren’t blindfolded. Clint led him out of the closet and paused long enough to undress him. Now he was both vulnerable and naked. Clint then took his hand and led him out of the bedroom, down the hall. When they stopped, Evan instinctively turned his chin to the left, picturing them in front of the door to the playroom.
“Kneel.”
He did and waited.
Clint petted Evan’s head, which felt oddly stimulating. He wasn’t a dog, but damn did he love the way Clint’s hands stroked over his scalp. “I need you to understand something, Evan. I’ve never brought someone into my playroom without a signed contract. I’m putting a great deal of trust in you.”
“I said I’d sign it.”
“I said we’d have one trial run, first.”
“You know you can trust me.” Without question.
“I ask the same from you. Trust me, Evan. I won’t let anything happen to you or hurt you without your consent. I’ll protect you with everything I am. I’ll never cheat on you or share you. You’re mine, Evan. You belong to me.”
He didn’t know how he felt about that. He’d never belonged to another man. Hell, he’d never submitted to another man. Ever. Yet, something about this felt so comforting, like giving himself over to Clint completely lifted a giant burden off his shoulders. His next words fell past his lips without another thought. “I belong to you.”
The sound of a door opening caught in his ears. Clint pulled him to his feet and led him into the room. He wished he didn’t have on the blindfold. He wanted to see Clint’s face, get lost in his deep eyes.
“Did you remember to choose a safe word?”
Evan couldn’t even remember how to breathe. “Pineapple.”
“Pineapple?”
“I Googled the top safe words.”
Clint chuckled. “Of course, you did. Place your hands behind you.”
Evan did as instructed and stood perfectly still as Clint bound his wrists with something soft, yet unyielding. Leather? He then turned Evan to face him.
“Are you scared?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You fear pain, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you think I’m going to hurt you?”
Evan shook his head before remembering Clint insisted on words. “No, sir.”
“Then why are you trembling?”
He wished he knew. “I’m scared I’ll like it.”
Where did that come from?
“I love your honesty.” Clint ran his finger along Evan’s collarbone. “It’s okay to like it. It’s okay to let yourself go, to give yourself over to me.”
Evan released a shaky breath.
When Clint slanted his lips over his, Evan eagerly accepted the touch. Clint swept his tongue across Evan’s mouth, and they groaned together as their tongues met. Clint ran his fingers through Evan’s hair, holding him in place, devouring him with precision. Only when neither one could breathe did Clint pull back and rest his forehead against Evan’s. Their breath mixed as they both panted.
“Evan, goddamn it. What are you doing to me?”
He lifted his chin, searching for Clint’s mouth. When he didn’t feel it, he whimpered in protest.
And then his lips were once again on Evan’s. He lost himself in Clint’s taste, his touch, his intoxicating scent.
As Evan let himself go, giving himself over to Clint, the kiss changed. It left him numb yet had every nerve ending humming with electricity. Clint thrust his tongue into Evan’s mouth, stealing his reason and stripping him of any remaining control.
He removed Evan’s restraints and grabbed his wrists, leading him to the left and placing his back to something cold, yet soft. Didn’t the whipping table have a stuffed leather surface? Clint made quick work of straightening Evan’s arms and cuffing each wrist out to the side. He then lifted Evan’s knees and tied his legs into a butterfly pose, opening him to Clint completely.
He’d never felt more exposed. And nervous. And so hard he hurt.
Clint wrapped his hand around Evan’s flesh and squeezed, drawing a shudder. “I’m going to spray you down. I want you wet. Slippery.”
Spray him down? Was that code for jetting his release all over him? When he felt the mist tickle his skin, he laughed at himself.
“Something funny?”
“You’re spraying me.”
“I know. I told you I was going to.”
He laughed harder. “I thought it was going to be… Never mind.”
Clint leaned over him, capturing his lips. They were skin to slippery skin, the liquid like a sheath of lubrication between them. It was more than water. Oil, maybe. Evan had never felt anything like it, and it made him all the more excited.
He dragged his lips from Evan’s and nibbled on his chin, traveling to his ear and latching onto his lobe. He ran his hands all over Evan’s body. “Very nice. So slippery and wet.”
Clint found his lips again, licking and nipping at Evan’s mouth as he rubbed them together. The liquid between them kept them slick. Clint rocked his hips, slowly grinding against Evan, running his erection up and down Evan’s slit.
He dropped and licked at Evan’s hole, teasing him, probing him. Evan couldn’t make sense of anything. He’d never been this overwhelmed, this blind with need, as he wiggled his ass against Clint’s mouth. Was he allowed to beg? Oh, to hell with it. He knew what he wanted, and right now, that was Clint’s flesh filling him.
“Please,” Evan whispered against Clint’s lips. “I want you inside me.”
“I want you watching me as I take you.” He removed the blindfold and consumed his lips as he fisted Evan’s hair, holding their slippery bodies together as he pulled a condom out of a nearby drawer and rolled it on.
“Look at me, Evan.”
He did, frustrated he couldn’t touch his lover, yet surprisingly feeling like he had the ultimate control here. Their pleasure was solely on Clint. And he’d deliver, that Evan knew without a doubt. Emotions overwhelmed him as he stared into those deep brown eyes. Clint nudged his sheathed erection against Evan’s tight hole and moved his hips, moaning as he worked his way in.
“Ah!” Evan rocked his hips and threw his head back when Clint’s cock broke through the barrier. He bucked when Clint slowly slid in, not stopping until he filled him completely. He bucked again as his body adjusted.
Clint grabbed his hips and held him in place. “I see I’m going to have to restrain you at the waist, too.”
Evan panted as Clint gave him long, steady strides, taking in every sensation of the way his flesh stroked over nerves Evan didn’t know he had. Being tied into a butterfly pose, opening himself like this, exposed parts of his body untouched before.
He spasmed when Clint’s cock brushed across the same nerve he hit at Evan’s apartment.
“Easy.” Clint gently rocked his hips, prolonging the pleasure until Evan whimpered, begging him for more. And then he slowed down. Evan cried out, pleading Clint to end the torture.
“Please!” He cried again, desperate in his need for release. Evan bit down on his lower lip to stop himself from crying out again. With his hands bound, he couldn’t touch himself, couldn’t touch his lover. He couldn’t grip his erection and end this torture. He couldn’t do anything but exactly what Clint commanded.
“Don’t come.”
“Clint,” he whimpered. “Please.”
His body hummed. His breath raced in and out of his burning lungs. Clint fingered the tender spot under the head of Evan’s dick, pushing him that much closer. “Don’t come.”
“Clint! Please. I can’t hold it.”
“You can.”
He couldn’t. He was going to pass out if he didn’t let his orgasm swallow him. He’d never struggled to hold something back like this. It hurt yet felt unbelievably amazing. He whimpered again. Pineapple. One word ended his torture. Still, as much as it hurt to hold it in, he didn’t want to stop. “I-It hurts, Clint.”
“Hold it.”
“It hurts!” he screamed. One word. “P-P-P…” No. He refused to give in to own weakness, his own need. “Please!”
“Not yet.”
“Clint!”
“Evan.”
“Y-Yes?”
“Come for me.”
“Yes!” He gave his body over to his release, crying out as he came harder than he’d ever come in his life. Little black dots invaded his vision.
Clint gave a final stroke and stiffened as he hollered out. He kissed Evan hard, grunting into his mouth as he spilled his release. He finally fell to him, panting hard and shaking violently.
He’d never experienced anything so raw. So carnal. So emotionally exhausting. He’d had the idea they’d be at this all night. He wouldn’t be able to go through something like that again until he recovered. Physically, he felt fine. Mentally, he couldn’t put two coherent words together if his life depended on it. Emotionally, he wanted to laugh. And cry. At the same time.
They stayed in the same position, connected, until Evan whimpered, uncomfortable from staying tied for too long. Clint gently removed the restraints and helped Evan to his feet. Without a word, he supported Evan as they left the room and stopped in front of the door closest to the master suite. He opened the door and led Evan to the bed, straightened him out, and tucked him in before kissing his forehead.
And then he left, closing the door behind him.
18
He was a monster.
Clint stared out the window as the sun came up, breathing life into his city. He’d barely moved from this spot since putting Evan to bed, and only then to check on him throughout the night. The man was exhausted after their session and fell into a deep sleep.
Unlike Clint, who couldn’t shut off his brain enough to sleep. The burden of being the one in charge all the time weighed on him. People depended on him. His family. His company. His lover. So many factors to evaluate, decisions to make.
Some considered what he did as cruel, taking away another person’s choices. Was it any less cruel to put a person in charge who lacked the desire or ability? What if that person’s choice resulted in catastrophe? Or worse?
He’d hurt Evan. After making him a promise to never hurt him without permission, he went and broke that promise their very first session. He’d made him scream. He’d made him cry.
He was a fuckin
g monster.
Pressing his forearm to the window, he rested his forehead against it as his mind drifted back to a simpler time. A time when he was young and played in his father’s office, running Hot Wheels over his shoes and falling asleep under that massive desk. A time when his mother would welcome home her two working men, a Maker’s Mark Manhattan for Franklin, apple juice for Clint served in a martini glass like his father’s drink. It’d even have the maraschino cherry, which didn’t taste very good with apple juice, but Clint never complained. He wanted it exactly like his father’s. He wanted everything to be exactly like his father’s.
And then he grew up. His father hadn’t nearly been the hero Clint made him out to be. They’d started to butt heads. Then moved into throwing punches. To save them both, Clint moved out before they ended up killing each other. He’d talked to his father from time to time, but they’d lost what they had.
He’d done whatever he could to be the exact opposite of his father. Wild parties. Girls. So many girls. Drugs. Alcohol. Whatever he never saw his father do, Clint had done in spades.
He still remembered the day he came out to his father. It had changed their relationship for the better, shockingly enough. Franklin Duke started to talk to Clint again, not just as father to son, but friend to friend. It was like confiding in his father had somehow lifted a weight off them both. They even went back to work together, this time with Clint in his own office. Their first deal together netted Duke Enterprises millions. His father had told him the only other day he’d been prouder was the day he’d finally been truthful to himself and come out.
By then, Clint had a steady reputation of being a playboy billionaire. He didn’t know how to change that and, even now, feared announcing the truth about his sexuality would lead to questions about past partners. Which would lead to past contracts. Which would lead to past payments for silence. Which would bring everyone back to Clint’s original assessment of him being a monster.
The lies were easier to believe and kept him in the papers for all the wrong reasons. At least the distractions kept the press off the real story—Clint Duke paid men to have sex with him.
Evan Page 17