It didn’t really work. His suit pants were wool, and they did nothing to absorb the sweat.
“And what did you have in mind?” John asked, taking another sip of his beer. His voice had gone warm and aroused, and Carter’s cock throbbed against his thigh. If John looked down there would be no hiding his hard on.
Not that he’d want to.
Carter was about to suggest that they book one of the rooms upstairs again, but then his eyes landed on the black stamp on John’s wrist. He frowned. They wouldn’t be allowed to have sex anywhere in the club with John sporting that.
“We could go back to my apartment,” he suggested, surprising himself. He’d never brought anyone there before. “It’s not too far from here.”
“Okay,” John said, pushing his beer away and standing up. “Let me just pay for my drink and we can go.”
Carter nodded, and John settled his tab with the bartender and zipped up his coat. He turned to Carter with an expectant grin.
“You ready?”
Carter licked his lips and nodded, and when he rose to his feet his erection strained the fabric of his suit to an obscene degree. John’s eyes widened at the sight of it and he blushed.
Heat pooled in Carter’s belly, and without thinking about it he reached out and put his hand on the back of John’s neck. Curling his palm around the skin just under John’s hairline, thumb and index finger stroking under the corner of John’s jaw, Carter felt something settle inside of him.
John sighed, going limp and relaxed under Carter’s hand like he’d been made to submit. It made Carter feel more like a demon shepherding a soul to hell than a gentle dom, but he pushed those feelings away.
John was in this to have fun—just like Carter.
No one was going to get hurt. He’d make sure of it.
***
