Billion Dollar Love: Manlove Edition

by 6 Author Anthology

  “Care to do the honors again?”

  Carson took the packet and immediately found his back against the cold tile with Zach’s mouth on his. He ground against him, rubbing their cocks together, and Carson whimpered. His brain shut down, forgetting where they were, and all he could focus on was the feel of Zach’s body against his, of how perfectly they fit together, how right it felt to be with him.

  “I’m about to pick you up and fuck you through this wall, and if you want protection you better hurry with that condom, kid,” he rumbled, and Carson gasped.

  “Fuck, okay, wait, Jesus, I’ve got it.” He fumbled with the wet foil, finally using his teeth to tear it open.

  “Good boy,” Zach purred in his ear, stroking Carson’s cock as Carson sheathed Zach.

  “Please,” he panted.

  “Please what?” Zach asked as he grabbed Carson’s ass and lifted. Carson could hear the teasing, the amusement in the asshole’s voice. This fucker was playing with him, and damn it, he wasn’t too far gone that he couldn’t give it back. He wasn’t—this man didn’t completely shut down Carson’s brain with the effortless way he manhandled him. He didn’t, and he’d prove it, damn him. He wrapped his legs around Zach’s back and angled his hips so that he could feel Zach’s cock pressed against his hole.

  “Fuck me, daddy,” he begged, and the groan that came from Zach as he drove himself into Carson absolutely didn’t wrap around his heart and settle there, because that would be ridiculous. You couldn’t fall in love with someone after just a few hours and one night together.

  “Christ, yes,” Zach moaned as he thrust relentlessly into him, his mouth drawing as much pleasure as his cock as he bit and sucked at Carson’s neck and chest. He’d have to wear a damn turtleneck at work tomorrow for God’s sake if he wanted to hide the marks, and it sent a thrill through him. He wrapped an arm around Zach’s shoulders to hang on as he reached down to stroke himself.

  “Fuck, it’s like your ass was made just for me. You take me so well, sweetheart. So good for me. Maybe one day I’ll fill you up with my cum, watch it run out of you as you lie there begging me to let you come. How does that sound?”

  A high-pitched keening sound rose from his throat.

  “Yes, yes, fuck, yes, anything you want, please, don’t stop.”

  “You like being my dirty little boy? Is that it?”

  Carson clung to Zach, unable to do much else. If someone had told him he’d have a thing for an older man, and would get off on calling him daddy and would turn into an incoherent mess on his dick, he’d have laughed until he couldn’t breathe. Yet here he was, and it was happening, and as his orgasm tore through him, he found it impossible for any of the situation to bother him, especially when Zach gave him the best orgasms of his life.

  A moment later Zach grunted and his body stilled as he came. They remained that way for a few breaths, Carson’s back pressed almost painfully into the wall with Zach’s face buried in his neck, until at last—but still all too soon—Zach pulled out with a stifled groan. Carson made no move to unlock his legs, and Zach didn’t correct that. Instead, he lifted his head to meet Carson’s gaze.

  “I’m not letting you out of my sight again until you give me your phone number.”

  Carson’s breath caught in his throat.

  “I have not been able to stop thinking about you since I woke up alone in that hotel. If we are living in the same damn city now, you better fucking believe that I intend to keep you this time.”

  His face must not have caught up with his brain and his stupid heart, because Zach’s face started to fall, eyes losing their softness, and he started to put distance between their bodies in preparation for setting him down. Carson tightened his legs and he cupped the strong jaw, thumbs stroking over the soft beard.

  “I would love to be kept by you. Daddy.”

  Chapter Four

  “I got you something,” Zach said, setting a small, colorful box on the table between them.

  It had taken all of two days before he’d caved and called Carson. They’d sent a few cautious texts the first day, but by the afternoon of the second day the content of Carson’s messages had escalated drastically and Zach hadn’t been able to help himself. That night had ended in a video chat, both of them with their cocks in their hands and cum drying on their stomachs. Now they were on their first actual “date” just a few nights later, eating Thai food in a tiny little restaurant only a handful of easy blocks from Zach’s place.

  He watched Carson’s brows draw together in confusion as he reached for the box. It was exceptionally light, and wrapped—mostly because he enjoyed watching the way Carson’s long fingers moved—with shiny, multi-colored striped paper, adorned with a large pile of curled ribbon. Carson peeled the ribbon off and stuck it to his chest like a badge before siding a finger into a seam to lift the tape. Zach leaned back in his chair, elbow on the armrest, and curled his hand over his face. His thumb rested under his chin, his index finger on his cheek, and he chewed on the tip of his middle finger in an attempt to keep himself from laughing at what the box held.

  Carson finally freed the box, lifted the lid, and pulled out the tissue paper on top. He barked out a laugh, startling the people at the table next to them, before he could control himself. Zach grinned, chest shaking slightly from contained laughter, as Carson swayed in his chair, one hand clapped over his mouth to muffle his laughs as tears began to glisten at the corner of the storm-grey eyes.

  “You’re such a jerk,” he gasped finally, trying to gather himself, dabbing at the corners of his eyes. Sitting back, he pulled the rubber duck from the box. It held a barbell at the end of one wing, was wiping its face with one end of the towel around its neck, and a sweatband around its head.

  “But I’m your jerk,” he answered before his brain could slap a filter on his mouth, and the smile Carson gave him at that statement did things to his stomach that Zach steadfastly ignored.

  Zach, of course, had known all about the duck solution, but he’d let Carson explain it to him anyway. He could have told him that he worked in programming as well, but he enjoyed the sound of Carson’s voice, and the easy conversation had been nice. His anonymity with Carson was something he cherished. So many people, once they knew who he was, treated him differently. They’d suck up to him, wanting his money. Or they’d fawn over him, like he was a damned rock star or celebrity. But it always ended up with them tripping all over themselves to do or provide anything he wanted, as if he wasn’t completely capable of doing it himself.

  Zach cleared his throat.

  “I have a confession,” he began, pausing as the server came over to clear plates and ask if they wanted dessert.

  “They say confession is good for the soul,” Carson teased.

  Zach fidgeted in his seat. He needed to admit at least some of his situation to Carson. Because somehow this man had become extremely important to him in an extremely short amount of time, and he deserved to know some version of the truth sooner than later. But the nervousness he felt was something new.

  “I’d like it very much if you came home with me tonight. And I … wanted to warn you.”

  “Do you have a kinky sex dungeon?” Carson whispered, eyes wide. “Because that would be awesome.”

  Zach laughed, a quick exhale of breath, and relaxed marginally.

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “Well that’s disappointing. I was hoping.” Carson winked as he plucked the last dumpling from his plate and dragged the chopsticks from his mouth suggestively, and fuck if that didn’t make it difficult to focus. He shifted again, this time not from nervousness but because of the arousal he was fighting.

  “But I do have a lot of money.”

  “I kind of got that impression already, babe.”

  Zach chewed his bottom lip, warmed by the endearment, but unable to let the conversation stop there. Carson needed to understand the scope of what he was trying to tell him. At least this way, if there was going to be
an awkward scene, it would be in public, not at home. Not where he’d have to feel ashamed for everything he’d worked so hard to have.

  “Like, a lot, a lot. Like, I just recently bought an actual, historic brownstone. On the Upper West Side. Outright. No mortgage.”

  “Oh.” Carson blinked a few times, but never broke eye contact. “Okay,” he said with a deep breath. “Well, it’s a nice neighborhood. I’ve been looking at some apartments there. I’m in short-term now, haven’t been able to get anything permanent yet. It’s not for lack of money. I make more than enough, but I just started the job and every place seems to want a longer work history. But I can see why you’d want to buy there.”

  Zach exhaled heavily.

  “It doesn’t bother you?” He didn’t like the feeling of fear that clawed at his heart when he thought of losing Carson already. The younger man had brought a ray of light into Zach’s life that he hadn’t realized was missing.

  Carson shrugged and lifted his glass. “Am I jealous? Yeah, a bit, ‘cuz I’d love to have that kind of money someday. But I’m only twenty-eight. I’ve got time. And I don’t need your money. I’ve got enough of my own.” He leaned in across the table, eyes glinting mischievously. “I only need your cock in my ass. And I’m willing to bet a few zeroes in the bank ain’t gonna change the way you fuck me. Daddy.” He sat back with a wink, looking quite pleased with himself.

  Zach struggled to control his breathing. Please, God, let me be doing the right thing. Let me be able to trust him, he thought as he studied Carson’s face.

  “Kid, you are in so much trouble,” he said softly.

  Carson raised an eyebrow.

  “Promise?”

  Zach pulled his wallet out and threw a hundred-dollar bill on the table as he stood and pulled on his coat.

  “Let’s go. Now.”

  Somehow Carson’s grin grew even bigger.

  “Yes, daddy.”

  Zach hissed, and Carson laughed as he stood, adding a fifty from his own wallet to the table. He watched and did the math in his head, and realized that Carson was right, what he’d left wouldn’t be enough. He was used to paying for just himself, after all.

  “I promise I’ll be good,” Carson purred, leaning in as if for a kiss.

  “You’re goddamned right you will,” Zach replied, grabbing Carson by the jaw and preventing him from completing the kiss.

  “Don’t forget your gift,” he said, and turned and walked out the door, leaving Carson to scramble after him.

  “Zach! Zach!”

  He grinned as he heard Carson come running up behind him.

  “What the hell?” Carson asked as he fell into step beside him. They came up on a small alleyway, and Zach grabbed Carson’s arm and spun him, dragging him into the lengthening shadows the alley provided, wind-blown fallen leaves crunching under their feet.

  “You are such a little shit,” he growled, slamming Carson up against the wall and crashing into him, their mouths colliding in a fierce kiss.

  “You love it,” he taunted.

  “We have three blocks to go. You think you can behave that long?”

  “Probably not,” Carson replied, as he nipped at Zach’s bottom lip and tried to rub a leg between Zach’s.

  Zach dragged his bearded cheek over Carson’s smooth one and brought his mouth to rest against his ear.

  “I am fucking you on eight-hundred-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets tonight, with toys and lube at an easy reach. Not in this cold alley.”

  Carson moaned and clutched at the front of Zach’s coat, and he had to fight to keep from laughing.

  “You think you can behave now, kid?”

  “Yes,” he breathed. “Oh, God, yes please.”

  ****

  The one thing about Carson’s job that took the most getting used to was the weirdly flexible hours, due mostly in part to their large international client base. He was paid a base salary, and expected to clock in and out when he was at his desk working. But he didn’t have to be there at eight in the morning every single day. He could waltz in at nine-thirty. Or noon. It didn’t matter. As long as he clocked at least forty hours, and was on time for any scheduled meetings, it was fine. If he clocked more than fifty-five hours, he received overtime compensation. If he hit seventy hours, he was locked out of the system for thirty-six hours. And they were never allowed to access the system remotely. Apparently, Mr. McAllister took his employees’ mental and physical health seriously, and insisted they have down time to spend with family or whatever they had.

  So when he finally walked in—rather slowly and carefully—at ten the morning after dinner with Zach, nobody batted an eye. Sam did, only because Carson had never been there later than nine o’clock, but Carson had texted him to let him know he’d be late so he didn’t worry.

  Meg had laughed when he’d called her from Zach’s bed early that morning—fighting to keep his voice level while Zach did his best to deep-throat him—as she told him it didn’t matter, she only needed to know if he wouldn’t be in at all that day.

  “You okay, man?” Sam asked, as he watched Carson settle into his chair.

  “Yeah. Just had a late night.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Carson’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he jumped, which made him gasp as the plug in his ass shifted.

  10:05AM Zach new message

  Z: Thank you for the picture as requested ;) I’d be very disappointed if you changed your mind after you got home. Are you sitting yet?

  C: yes I just got to my desk

  Z: Good boy.

  C: you never said how long I have to wear this

  Z: I know.

  Carson clenched his jaw as the plug vibrated briefly, three short bursts.

  Z: That was for asking again. Tell me if you have a meeting. Otherwise I expect you to wear it until I see you tonight. You may not leave work early, you are to work a full eight hours. Go home, get an overnight bag of clothes, and then come to my house.

  Carson closed his eyes and swallowed. It was possible that his mouth was writing checks his ass literally couldn’t cash. But it had been so much fun, in the moment, taunting Zach, talking shit. And really, he could have said he wouldn’t do it. But if there was one thing Carson never did, it was back down from a challenge.

  So now he was wearing a vibrating plug all day, and Zach was the one with the remote. He didn’t even know that they made long-distance remote-controlled vibrators, but apparently they did and all they needed was a wireless internet connection.

  Carson wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know why Zach had one. But when the challenge had been thrown down, he’d instantly accepted, not realizing what he’d be getting himself into.

  “Carson, you sure you’re okay? You look really flushed and sweaty. Man, if you’re sick, we’ve got this.”

  “I’m okay, Sam, I swear. Thank you. I was just rushing to get here and ran up the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.”

  11:37AM

  C: if I say I’m sorry will you stop?

  Z: Already? It’s not even noon yet, sweetheart. I thought you said you could take it all day.

  C: I can if you stop turning it on!

  Z: Where’s the fun in that?

  Carson was going to need to see a dentist by the end of the day if he didn’t stop clenching his teeth so damn hard. For the last ten minutes, Zach had set the plug on the lowest setting, just the slightest flutter of feeling inside him, but it was enough that he was hard again. Much to his relief, after another two minutes, the vibrations ceased.

  Two hours later, Carson stretched, only to surprise himself when he felt the plug. He’d forgotten all about it because Zach hadn’t turned it on again. He dismissed it, assuming that Zach was busy with whatever he did for work, grabbed his phone, and headed down to the deli for lunch.

  Sam and Matt beckoned him over to their table and shoved their extra fries at him.

  “You need something more than chicken and salad, man!” Sam
insisted.

  “No way. I had a treadmill desk at my old job. I don’t have one here, I only have the gym time now. Gotta watch what I eat.”

  Matt reached over and tugged at the collar of the polo shirt Carson wore.

  “I’m pretty sure you’re working it off, buddy,” he said.

  Carson blushed and readjusted his shirt.

  “Even still. The fries’ll go right to my—my stomach,” he said, a hitch in his breath as the plug buzzed back to life.

  “Hah! Well, anyway, you should probably make sure you wear a shirt and tie on Monday for the meeting. Don’t wanna give the boss any ideas,” Sam winked.

  “What?” Carson was trying desperately to follow the conversation, but was having a difficult time focusing past the random vibration lengths.

  “McAllister is, like, the biggest player I’ve ever met. And it doesn’t matter to him which way you swing. I’ve seen him with men and women both. So if he gets a load of you like that, he might not like the in-house competition,” Matt said.

  Sam gestured in Carson’s direction with a French fry. “And you’ve got that meeting on Monday with him about some big new account he just signed, right? Apparently, your work has caught his attention and he asked to have you on the team?”

  “Yeah, I do. I … okay. That’s not at all what I thought, but okay.”

  “Whaddya mean?”

  “Well, I guess I just assumed, what with the leave policies and enforced downtime and stuff that he was married and had a family.” Carson stuffed a huge mouthful of his salad in his mouth to stop himself from moaning when the plug started pulsing, sending tiny bursts repeatedly without stopping.

  Matt and Sam laughed in unison, still apparently completely oblivious to Carson’s condition.

  “Pal, that man is never getting married. ZIM Tech is his life. He’s too busy trying to be the best in the business,” Sam said.

  “I’ve heard him say as much, that he’s got no interest in settling down with anyone. That he doesn’t have that kind of time,” Matt added.