“You get four,” I told him. “Four strikes to come or you go home unsatisfied, Golden.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
“Do you want them now or when you’re close?”
“I am close,” he muttered, reaching out and bracing himself against the wall with one hand, cock still in his other.
I checked again to make sure the coast was clear and I reared back and hit him. The first stroke of leather against skin sounded like a gunshot, and the moan that ripped out of Golden’s mouth had my dick leaking against my briefs.
I hit him the second time, the third time. The doors to the club opened and the sounds of conversation and music drifted out. There was someone—or more than one someone—on the stairs.
Against the wall, Golden pumped his hips forward, quiet sighs and pleas landing against the ground. I still owed him the fourth hit, but I wasn’t sure we wouldn’t get caught.
Fuck it.
I hit him again.
He cried out and I moved quick, dropping my belt onto the ground and looping my hand around his face with the other. I smothered his mouth, stopping any more sounds from escaping and giving us away.
“Did you hear that?” a voice said from the bottom of the stairs.
I shoved Golden into the deepest corner of the alley, my hand still over his mouth while his fist still worked at his cock. I flattened him against the wall, his cheek pressed against the brick, buffered only by my knuckles, which abraded and bled against the rough surface.
“I didn’t hear anything,” someone said, footsteps growing closer.
I pinched Golden’s nostrils closed and after his first attempt at a breath, he came, painting the corner of the alley with proof of his debasement. His body trembled and seized against mine as he shot spurt after spurt of cum against the bricks in front of him.
“Let’s go,” the first voice said. “I want to suck you off on the way home.”
“Mmmn,” the other man agreed, and the footsteps retreated.
I released my hold on Golden’s nostrils first, then let my hand slide away from his mouth. He dropped his forehead against the bricks and sighed, his shoulders still shaking.
“Enough,” he rasped.
“Yeah.” I nodded and stepped back, grabbing my belt off the ground and balling it up in my fist. “I know.”
Chapter Five
Foster
Iwas a mess. As bad as I’d been when I came home from the cabin after New Year’s, if not worse.
Earlier in the week I’d gotten a call to expect a job before the weekend, so when I woke up Friday morning with a text message from work, I covered my face with the pillow and tried to go back to sleep. Much like a break, sleep eluded me, so I forced my way into a shower, which also offered little relief.
There was no shower cold or hot enough to wash away how Sage’s hands or belt felt against my skin. I knew because I’d tried both. I’d been trying for a week and I couldn’t get the taste or the smell or the touch of him out of my mind. Every time I jerked off, I thought about Sage. Every time I came, it was his name on my lips. One time, I was thinking about the weekend we had together and I’d almost mutteredSir, but the intense shock of my orgasm spiraled me into silence.
Out of another useless shower, dried, dressed, and staring at my coffee pot, waiting for enough to brew that I could fill a cup, I tried to decide what to do. There was no way I was ready to take a job, but I wasn’t really in the kind of industry where I could say no. As I waited for the coffee, I drummed my fingers against the edge of the counter top, a clear indicator my nerves still had the better of me.
I needed to get out of my head.
Filling a mug halfway with the coffee that had filtered into the pot, I carried it onto my back deck. I sat down in a low-slung Adirondack and took a deep breath, the night blooming jasmine that crawled up the lattice on the back wall of the house still fragrant in the air. I took a drink of coffee and tapped the screen of my phone, swiping up to an app I hadn’t used in months and scheduling time at the shooting range.
I had to show up at a random address in Santa Monica, ironically a little too close to the FBI building for comfort, at three, which meant I had half a day to waste. It also meant I had half a day to get my brain and my dick under control, neither of which seemed likely.
I called Ronan because I didn’t know what else to do.
“You’re up early,” he answered on the third ring.
