The vehicle kept pace with me despite someone behind honking their horn.
He stayed calm. “Get. In.”
This was a very bad idea, but then again, itwasfucking freezing out here. Whatever digestive benefits I’d get from walking would be negated by my freezing to death before I made it home.
Besides, WWJD? By which I meantWhat Would Go-Go-Boy Jethro Do?
“Fine,” I muttered, yanking the door open and climbing in. The air was blessedly warm, and I couldn’t help but groan a little in relief as I slid deep into the buttery leather bucket seat. “Forty-seven Market Street, please,” I called up to his driver.
I saw the man make eye contact with Locke, who gave a very faint headshake. “I’d like you to come home with me.”
I stared at him. “Youwould?”
“Yes.”
“Youwould?”
“You sound like an idiot,” he muttered.
Not untrue, but I wasn’t sure what was happening here… even though my dick seemed to be stupidly, immaturely,career-killeryon board with whatever the guy wanted.
Then again, Locke had come up clean in our investigation, and I was on personal time right now.
We’d just be two private citizens… doingprivatecitizen things.
“Forgive me if you’re shocking me a bit, Mister…” I suddenly realized his driver could hear us. “…Hypocrite,” I finished vaguely.
“Can you just keep your mouth closed until we get there? Is that too much to ask?” He blew out a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, and though it seemed impossible, he somehow frowned harder. “I’ve had a shit day, and my head’s killing me.”
Keeping my mouth shut wasn’t something I excelled at. But on the off chance I could convince him to let me do something else Ididexcel at later, I stopped talking and enjoyed the ride.
4
LOCKE
I didn’t knowwhat I was doing, exactly. All I knew was that in the weeks since seeing this kid in the club, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him.
More accurately, thinking about his effect on my dick. Because in the end, I’d gotten hard for him.
Even more accurately, I’d gotten hard thinking about fucking his ass. I’d gone out and found a woman to have anal sex with—which had been fine. Good, even. But it hadn’t put an end to my thoughts ofthisparticular ass.
So when I’d run into him at Rutherford’s, I hadn’t been surprised at my dick’s continued interest. He was even more attractive than I remembered. Still moved with liquid heat despite being at an uptight restaurant, dressed in ten times more clothes than before.
But when he’d mentioned being there with some presumably old-ass sugar daddy, Ihadbeen surprised at my visceral reaction. At how wrong it had felt.
Jett Whatever-his-name-was seemed like the kind of guy who could get modeling jobs paying way more than whatever he could make as an escort. Or get a corporate job, depending onhis education—hell, even without an education. All he’d need to do was drop a few comments about “preferring hard work over useless degrees,” and my grandfather would hire him at Maris.
Not that it was worry over the man’s financial future that made thewrongnessof his plans for the evening sit heavy in my gut.
No, it was the sudden, unshakable conviction that Jett should be coming home withme.
I wanted him to suck my cock and help me kick this fucking headache. And maybe kick whatever the hell spell he’d put on me at the Candy Bar while he was at it.
When we arrived at my house, I thanked Demarius and let him know my guest would most likely be ready to go home in the next couple of hours.
Demarius nodded, unsurprised. He was used to waiting around to return women home after I fucked them—not that he’d ever assume that was what this was. Everyone, including my driver, knew I wasn’t gay.
“I didn’t take you for a Greenwich Village guy,” Jett said as I let him into the town house.
