Whatever.
“Fine.” Alistair waved his hand. “Relay whatever you find out to Erasmus and Mace. The rest of you keep an eye on the party. Make sure our new guests are happy and behave themselves.”
“You want me to go play Mr. Happy Host?” Noah asked.
“Oh, no. You’re coming with me.”
“Uh, where?”
“If I’m going to be seen with you, I’m going to make sure you’re dressed properly.”
“What are you talking about?” Noah groaned. “It’s a party. I’m actually dressed fine—”
“Now.” Alistair’s sharp tone left no room for discussion.
“You sure you don’t need us, Mr. Star?” Crybaby eyed Noah warily.
“No. Thank you. We’ll be just fine.” Alistair took Noah’s arm and led him back upstairs. He wasn’t the slightest bit concerned, and the confidence was incredibly sexy.
Butterflies were bubbling up in Noah’s gut, and he was screaming at himself to make a run for it. This was the perfect time. He could slip from Alistair’s grip, bolt down the stairs and into the crowd. He could get away, he could get out of here.
But you want to know what he’s going to do to you…
Shit.
Alistair brought him to the master bedroom, a lavish space that once belonged to his parents and now his uncle. The furniture was Patrick’s, gilded baroque monstrosities, including a big bed with a thick quilted headboard.
The bed got Noah’s attention first, his skin hot and nerves tingling as he wondered if that was his next destination. He then saw an open window, the silky curtains fluttering from a warm breeze, and he tried to will his legs to make him flee in that direction instead.
He did nothing.
He was glued to the spot, listening to Alistair shut the door behind them and waiting to be told what to do. It was stupid, but he couldn’t resist this new impulse to behave himself.
He wanted… he wanted to be good.
The desire was as shameful as it was intense, and Noah was furious with himself that he was unable to fight it.
“You might as well be naked wearing that silly little outfit.” Alistair took a seat in a golden high-backed chair, and he smiled up at Noah. “Take it off, please.”
“Seriously?”
“You wore that to get my attention, did you not?” Alistair laid his hands in his lap. “Now you have it. And now I want you to remove that ridiculous outfit.”
“Why do you fuckin’ do this?” Noah snapped, indignation fueling his anger. “Boss me around like some fuckin’ dog?”
“Because you want me to.”
“No!” Noah tightened his hands into fists. “No, I don’t.”
“Oh, yes, you do.” Alistair smiled. “I’ve had a hundred boys just like you.”
“Wow, busy man. Hope you got tested, fucker.”
“I have warned you about your language already today—”
“You don’t know shit about me!” Noah argued passionately. “I don’t care if you’ve had a fuckin’ thousand guys! They’re not like me! You don’t know shit!”
“Yes, I do,” Alistair replied, calm as ever. He was apparently unmoved by Noah’s temper. “I am as sure of it as I am that if I told you to kneel right now and suck me off, you would.”
