Rex: What do you say? I can get him on the books tonight.
Archer: I’m sorry, my friend. I have a date tonight.
Rex: After your date.
All I have to do is remember the sound of Freya’s screams and the fear on Julian’s face as he begged me not to make him watch that again. And the decision is easy.
Archer: No, man. I’m sorry.
Rex: You quitting on me?
Archer: I’m just telling you I have plans tonight.
Rex: You have plans every night.
I let out a frustrated sigh. Rex has been my closest friend and by my side for over a year now. I feel like an ass letting him down, but I just don’t need this fight anymore.
Archer: I’m sorry, Chunks. I don’t know what to say.
He doesn’t respond, and it leaves me feeling pretty fucking crummy. When I get back to my apartment, I jump in the shower, and the entire time, I can’t shake the conversation with Rex and how bad it feels to let him down.
I know Rex loves the fights and cares about me as a friend, but I worry that he’s also depending on these fights as a source of income. Then what? If I send him some cash to make up for it, he’ll take it as an insult and never speak to me again.
By the time I finish getting ready, I’m late. Julian is banging on my door, and I’m still buttoning my shirt. Rushing over to let him in, I stop dead in my tracks as I take in his appearance.
Julian Kade always looks good. On any given day, he looks as if he was sculpted out of bronze as a tribute to one of the gods on Olympus.
But tonight…
Tonight, he’s in a deep blue, double-breasted tuxedo, tailored to perfection. A vision of effortless opulence. The fabric—sleek,weighty, and undoubtedly expensive—only enhances the sharp lines of his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The tux, the ornate silver jewelry adorning his neck and fingers, the silk peaked lapels. It’s a display of understated wealth, not ostentatious arrogance.
“God damn,” I mutter, letting my hands hang by my side.
“What?” he mutters, glancing down at his appearance.
“I was going to put on a suit and stand by your side, and now somehow that feels like a crime.”
“Oh, shut up,” he says with a roll of his eyes as he enters my apartment.
“You’re a fucking work of art.” Letting the front door close, I face him and drop to my knees.
When he turns to find me kneeling for him, he shakes his head. “Stop it.”
“Step on my face.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” he replies, unable to keep the laugh from his soft, pink lips.
“Please tell me we have time to fool around.” I reach for my still unbuttoned pants and quickly work them down my thighs.
“Archer, no,” he barks with a smile. “We do not have time.”
“Actually, we have no choice,” I argue, gesturing toward the already thickening cock in my tight black briefs. “If we don’t get rid of this thing now, I’m afraid it will be a problem all night.”
He steps up to me, giving me a look of pity. As his fingers run through my still wet brown curls, I tilt my head back as if I can bask in the warmth of his gaze.
“How about this? I’ll take you to the place where I used to make out with the girls and boys that I snuck into my parents’ house.”
I growl at the thought. Then I quickly hop to my feet, pop a kiss on his cheek, and stuff my neglected cock back in my pants. “Deal.”
