“Yeah.” Vane’s eyes went soft, and his smile took on a faraway quality that had me envious. “Anyway, I want you there. Fuck everyone on that. It’s going to be next year. You have time to make something work between now and then. You’re going to be my best man.”
I blinked and my head felt like a balloon full of helium.
Vane huffed and rubbed at his left eye with his palm.
Stormy strolled out of the bedroom dressed in a white tank top and a pair of black running shorts that slanted on his legs and did amazing things for his crotch. Underneath he wore a pair of black knee-high soccer socks with white stripes at the top that made me do nothing except stare at the smooth patch of pale skin between the sock cuff and the hem of his shorts.Boy lingerie.He looked every bit as fucking good in these skimpy clothes as he had leather and a corset. I wasn’t sure what he was up to, but fuck, he was mouthwatering. He stopped close enough to me that his leg touched mine and cocked a hip. “There was too much yelling. That was plenty of time for you. Shoo. Now.” He flicked his fingers at Vane. “As you can see, he has better things to do with his time.”
Vane’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he snorted as he glanced at me. “We’re good?”
“Yeah.”
He held out a hand, and I hesitated. Before I decided to do anything, he dragged me into a hug and smacked my back. Stormy leaned harder against my leg.
“You better pick someone else for best man. I can’t take care of any of the responsibilities right now. And next year might not be enough time to let things settle.”
Vane shoved me back until I was sitting away from him again. “Shut the fuck up. Call Mark, too. He’s still a mess over all this. Blaming himself for your choices. You’re a grown-assed man. Tell him that.”
I slouched back against the arm of the couch and nodded. “I’ll try again.”
Stormy crossed his arms. “He’s done. Go.”
Vane stood and stuffed his hands in his pockets, giving Stormy a smarmy stare that probably should have bothered me but only made me proud. Who wouldn’t want my Mister?
“You’re tight. I can see the appeal.” Vane glanced over his shoulder at me, and then went right back to eye-raping Stormy. “But what’re you doing? Taking your work home with you? That’s not how rent boys work, last I checked.”
“Out!” Stormy pointed toward the door, and Vane laughed, raising his hands in defeat. “Unless you want to pay to get in on this.”
“Trust me, you five-dollar tart, I have a much prettier man at home.” He let Stormy—who I worried might take a bite out of him because he had his teeth bared so much—shove him toward the door and then push him none-too-gently out of it.
“God, what a miserable toad. How did you work with him? I’m so glad I never fucked him.” Stormy closed the door with a crack, and a soft “hey!” came from the other side. He reached forward and turned the lock.
“You didn’t?”
“Fuck no.” Stormy strolled over and came to a stop in front of me. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the way his dick swayed in those tiny shorts, clearly not tucked into any underwear. “I did have some say in my clients, Pookie.” He glanced down at the coffee table and scowled. “You gave that slimeball my alcohol?”
“I was being polite.”
Bending forward, he smiled and ran his hand along my jaw, and I ate up the attention. He stopped to trace his finger along my ear, and I shivered. “Guess that’s not a terrible trait in a houseboy.”
I sucked in a deep breath, not sure how I felt about him calling me that. Obviously I’d been doing some very specific types of things around here… but I hadn’t put a name to it in my head yet. I did like seeing Stormy happy when he got home. And I did like knowing what needed to happen in my day, so his lists and directions were welcome. The schedule someone else had kept for me was one of the few things I’d liked about the mayor’s office. In a strange way I missed Mark the most out of everything I’d lost. He’d been a gentle, persuasive voice in my ear, day in and day out, guiding me along and keeping me out of as much trouble as I would allow him to chase off. “What… what would you like in a houseboy, Mister?”
Stormy sat down beside me and crossed his legs. Somehow the very masculine outfit he wore reminded me strongly of the corset and leather he’d had on at Black Out. Maybe it was his confidence, or maybe it was just the way everything about him eventually had me thinking about sex. I wanted to peel the clothes from his body to get at the skin underneath. He ran his fingers through my hair, and I leaned into the touch, enjoying the tingles he sent racing down my back.
“You did a good job today. Maybe I want you to bring me a drink after I shower each night, too? Since you like to do that, apparently.” He waved an imperious hand at the bar in the corner. “Impress me, Pookie.”
My stomach knotted as I forced myself away from his touch and walked across the room to the bar to do as he’d directed. I glanced back at him and bit at the inside of my cheek. He’d spread his arms along the back of the couch and shifted so he was sprawled more than sitting.
“I pulled the Four of Swords for you while I was waiting for our uninvited house guest to leave.”
“Oh yeah? What does that mean?”
Stormy lifted a hand from the couch and inspected his nails. “You might need me to help you find some peace and quiet. Relax, you know? You’re stressed.”
“You needed your cards for that?” I smiled and shook my head.
He shrugged. “Maybe not, but it’s good to have confirmation of things I already know. The cards screamed that I need to take better care of you. They’re rarely wrong.”
I chuckled and swiftly went back to my task, not wanting to keep my Mister waiting. I stared for a second at a small mixology book tucked between two bottles of liquor on the bar before pulling a crystal tumbler off the tray. I bent down and found a bucket of ice in the micro-fridge underneath.
