Linc came hard down the back of his throat and he swallowed it down. When Linc released him, he went back for more, licking every last drop from Linc’s spent cock and then looking up at him to see if he’d made him happy.
The pride and adoration on Linc’s face made the ache in his throat and his still painfully swollen cock worth it. He’d made his Daddy happy. That was enough. Linc pulled him to his feet and kissed him. “Let’s go take that shower.”
Thus began the most frustrating day of Wyatt’s life. Linc jerked him slowly in the shower while whispering filth in his ear, letting Wyatt work himself against the loose circle of his fist even though it did nothing to relieve his need. Later, when Wyatt’s cock had given up hope, Linc pinned him to the counter and blew him right there in the kitchen, bringing him to the edge once more before again leaving him wanting. Just before Graciela was due back, Linc made good on his promise to spank Wyatt, bending him over the bed and tormenting him for what felt like hours before jerking himself off over Wyatt’s ass and rubbing it into his skin as if marking him.
By the time Linc sent Wyatt off to dress for the party, Wyatt was far too preoccupied with his own blue balls to worry about his father’s fundraising ball. Wyatt wasn’t allowed to shower again, despite the dried cum flaking on his back, so he contented himself with taming his riot of curls before swiping on deodorant and brushing his teeth.
He slipped into a custom slim-fit navy-blue Brooks Brothers suit bought for him by his father, one of many he kept crammed in the back of his closet after an image consultant had deemed them appropriate and not too flamboyant. Wyatt skipped the tie, wearing the snowy white button-down open at the neck, which guaranteed his mother would be in full-on pearl-clutching mode before appetizers.
Wearing it open also meant dabbing concealer on the bites and bruises Linc had left at the juncture where his neck met his shoulder. He pressed his fingers against each one, praying Linc deemed him a good boy tonight and finally let him come. Wyatt shuddered, equal parts aggravated and aroused. He now regretted how formfitting the suit pants were since he’d sported an erection most of the day.
Wyatt found Linc standing in the living room with Graciela fussing over him like he was going to prom and she was his doting grandmother. Linc wore the same basic men-in-black suit as the first day they’d met—the suit worn by most security details at these events. Graciela had asked her sister to let it out so it now fit Linc as intended, hugging him in all the right places. He looked hot. So hot. Wyatt vowed that before the night was over, he would climb Linc like a tree.
Before Wyatt could announce his presence, Graciela saw him and rushed over, smoothing over his jacket and frowning at his open collar. “Why must you make your mother crazy? Now she will take too many pills and then I scoop her up off the bathroom floor tomorrow. You’re a bad boy,” she finished, swatting his shoulder. Wyatt was grateful she hadn’t aimed for his abused backside. As it was, Wyatt already dreaded having to sit for dinner. Still, his cock twitched at her words. Linc smirked behind her, his eyes raking over Wyatt like he stood there naked and not dressed in more clothes than he’d had on in days.
A key turned in the lock and then Charlie swept in, looking more like she was about to attend the Oscars than a stuffy fundraising gala with decrepit old billionaires and their shriveled-up wives. She’d swept her hair up into a smooth bun and she’d highlighted her cornflower-blue eyes with bronzes and golds, which complemented her always perfect tan. But it was her dress that was truly fascinating. If Wyatt’s open collar would have his mother sloppy by morning, she’d positively hurl herself off a roof at Charlie’s golden bedazzled one-shoulder gown that hugged her curves all the way to the knee before spilling into a puddle of sequins at her feet. It was stunning. It was scandalous. His father would have a stroke… which made it perfect.
“Wow,” Linc said before Wyatt could find the appropriate words.
Charlie blushed and curtsied before giving a spin, making the bottom swirl around her. “Aw, thanks. We should get going though. The car’s downstairs.”
Wyatt suddenly felt like an anvil had dropped on his head. He hadn’t had to deal with his father or his cronies for almost a year in public. He no longer had the emotional fortitude for this. He wanted to back out, to send word he was ill and hide there in the penthouse with Linc where it was safe. Where he felt safe.
But it was too late. Charlie was hooking her arms through theirs and walking them toward the doors. “Let’s get this shitshow on the road, gentlemen.”
In the car, Wyatt sat between Linc and Charlie, shivering like a high-strung Chihuahua. He chewed his bottom lip, jiggled his leg, and fidgeted with his hands until Linc entwined their fingers and squeezed tight. His head shot up, his bleak eyes locking on Linc. A small pang of guilt needled at him. Maybe he shouldn’t have spent the day edging Wyatt into oblivion. Maybe he should have done everything he could to make him as relaxed as possible. But Wyatt needed to understand his actions had consequences, and if Linc didn’t follow through Wyatt might stop believing his threats. Besides, it was far too late to worry about it now.
When they pulled up alongside the hotel, chaos ensued. There was the usual line of cars at these events, limos dropping people right at the doors. God forbid they have to walk anywhere. A group of about thirty protesters stood outside, holding signs over their heads, booing each time another couple passed in their finery. The partygoers seemed unfazed, and some even smiled and waved in true let-them-eat-cake fashion. Charlie was right; this was a shitshow of epic proportions.
Linc exited before Wyatt, shielding him as he helped Charlie from the car in her ridiculously tight dress. Once she was on her feet, Linc ushered them inside, an arm around each of them like a shield. They ducked their heads as bulbs from cameras flashed and local reporters thrust microphones in their faces. Questions swirled around them, but none discernable enough to warrant an answer. Not that they would have answered, anyway.
Inside the hotel lobby was a different feel altogether. Classical music flowed from speakers above. The only people visible were the senator’s party guests laughing and chatting as they made their way toward the main ballroom like Rome wasn’t burning right outside the gilded hotel doors. Linc steered them in the direction of the party, walking behind them, a hand on each of their shoulders. Just before they passed the threshold, a woman stepped forward. Wyatt stopped short rather than run into her. Charlie frowned at the smaller woman in confusion.
“Wyatt, Miranda Rodrigues with theMiami Sun. We met last night. I was wondering if you’d be willing to talk now that you both have your clothes on?” she asked, raising her voice loud enough to turn heads around them.
Wyatt’s cheeks burned, but Charlie curled herself into Wyatt possessively with a sly smile as if the comment pertained to her and Wyatt and not Linc and Wyatt. The people close enough to overhear gave Charlie’s revealing dress a once-over before turning up their noses and moving on.
Linc lowered his voice. “He has no comment. He will never have a comment, and if you print one word that even hints at whatever you’re implying, my client will sue you for libel.”
She snickered. “Libel? Only if I can’t prove my allegations.”
Linc opened his mouth, but it was Charlie who stepped forward. “You write for theMiami Sun,you say?”
The woman flicked her gaze to Charlie. “Yes, that’s right,” she said dismissively.
Charlie smiled. “Oh, then I’m surprised you don’t recognize me.”
The woman shifted uncomfortably, her cocky demeanor cracking just a bit. “Why would I know who you are?”
“Because my father is your boss.”
Both Linc and the woman turned to stare at the younger girl, dumbstruck.
The reporter scoffed. “My boss is a woman, and she doesn’t have children.”
“Oh, maybe I wasn’t clear. My father is your boss’s boss’s boss’s… etcetera. You get the point. Your paper is owned by Stavros Holdings, LTD. That company is one of many companies owned by my father. I can get him on the phone if you’d like to confirm?” She jiggled the little purse at her wrist.
The woman paled a little but narrowed her eyes at Wyatt like she was trying to look inside his head. “I’m not sure what you and your father are so hell-bent on hiding, but I’m not letting this go. If the story’s good enough, my boss won’t care who your father is.”
