“We have to go…”
Spencer’s eyes shone. “Do we?”
“I mean…”
Spencer just sealed his mouth, killing his words.
Driving to that huge house on another rich hill, the driveway long from that wrought iron gate, the whole place was stinking money. Duncan mused a bit how the fuck people just became rich. Inherited shit. Something Spencer just had fallen into as soon as he had gotten pushed out of his mother’s womb. Something he wouldn’t have to work for, ever.What the fuck are we even doing?Scared a bit of where their fucking around would lead, could lead…Shit.Parking the car facing the drive, ready to leave, he went and opened the door to Spencer, helping him out.
Spencer had dressed in black pants, boots, and a black silk shirt with green patterns and multi-colored flowers. A light makeup on his eyes, and his chocolate lipstick.
Their eyes met, and Spencer smirked. “How do I look?”
“She’ll like you.”
“That wasn’t the intent but ok… is it ‘cursed artist’ enough?”
“I guess so.”
Spencer glanced around and grabbed Duncan’s cock through his pants. Watching his eyes go wide. His voice, hoarse. “Are you hard? Mhm?” He licked his lips.
Duncan breathed softly and pried Spencer’s hand away. “Fuck you.”
Grinning. “You are… Flattering. I hope you can walk.” Giving him a wink, his tongue stuck between his teeth.
He walked up the stairs then, and Duncan followed, cursing in his head.
They got taken to a huge living room with dark brown walls laced with gold, maybe one of many, a fireplace lit fuck knew why in summer, and Spencer’s painting hung above it. A prime place, even if it looked out of place in that artificial space of faux luxury.
Mrs Blakely walked to them. Dressed in a plain white jumpsuit and golden sandals with heels, she had her hair down in thick waves.
She kissed Spencer on the cheek and gestured at Duncan. “You can send your guard out, I have protection here, we’re safe.” She cocked her head to a guy dressed in black, his hands in front of him, standing on the far side of the room.
Spencer smiled. “I’d like him to stay if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
Duncan met the guy’s eyes. Scanning his face then, his body. Tall, but leaner than him, blond with short hair. His eyes, a pale blue. That small mocking curve on his lips.Asshat.He laced his hands together and waited near the wall, knowing he had to keep an eye on Spencer who had already sat on that crème leather sofa facing the fireplace and the painting. Champagne poured into their glasses straight away by a maid who then disappeared.
Mrs Blakely turned to Spencer, pushing one leg on the sofa. “So… I’m thrilled that you came after all. Your mother had hinted at you hesitating?”
Spencer sipped on his drink. “Ah… my mother thinks she knows everything but it’s not so, Mrs Blakely.”
“Oh, please…” She grazed her hand on Spencer’s arm resting on the sofa’s back. “No Mrs Blakely for you. Just call me Olivia.” Clinking her glass against Spencer’s. “I hope we can be friends? No need for formalities.”
“As you wish.” Spencer took his arm down and laced his hands around his glass.
“What do you think of the placement?”
Spencer glanced at the painting. “It’s perfect.”
“I want to buy more of your works. Selling any time soon?”
“I have an exhibition coming up.”
She reached for the bottle and refilled their glasses. “Glad to hear. I hope I’m invited?”
“Of course.” Drinking, it made his blood warm, relaxing that initial caution. Remembering Duncan’s words but he shrugged them off.I can hold my drinks…
