Quid Pro Quo (2 page)

Doing anything for Christmas?”

Tristan shrugged as he leaned back in the booth. He slung

one arm across the back of the seat,
almost
touching Jared’s goose bump–covered shoulders. “Probably working here.”

He grinned, and his wink fucked with Jared’s blood pressure.

“You might want to do the same.”

4

“On Christmas?” Jared shook his head. “No way. My

family would string me up.”

“If you didn’t show up? Or if they knew you were here?”

“Both. God. I can just see that. ‘Sorry, Mum and Dad, I’ll be sucking cock on Christmas Eve.’”

Tristan laughed, slim lips pul ing across perfect teeth.

“But think of the lovely gifts you could buy them! They’d just be a little . . . late.”

“I’ll pass,” Jared said. “Maybe next year.”

“Well, you’ll be missing out. This place gets busy as fuck on Christmas.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Not at al .” Tristan paused to sip his drink. “All those

bankers and traders and managers who’ve worked so hard their wives have left them?” He waved a hand at their surroundings.

“We ought to hang up stockings on the bar, put up a bloody tree, and have Saint Fucking Nick show up.”

Jared laughed. “Can you imagine a Christmas party in

this place?”

Tristan chuckled, his mood lightening a little. “Wrap all

of us lads in garland, paint candy cane stripes on our cocks.

Wouldn’t that be a sight?”

“Could hang ornaments off all the boys with piercings.”

Jared nodded towards Nick, one of the Dominants currently

working his way into some john’s wallet. “I could see him with a couple of coloured balls hanging off his nipples.”

Tristan choked on his drink.

“Sorry,” Jared said, laughing behind his hand.

“Well played.” Tristan coughed a couple of times. “And I

dare you to suggest that to Nick.”

Jared started to speak, but movement beside him caught

his attention—a john, maybe? He turned, and leather creaking 5

behind him told him Tristan had shifted a little. Maybe not sat up, but moved.

The john was in his late thirties, Jared guessed. Good

looking. Short hair, probably light brown, though it was hard to tell with the dim lights. Well off, judging by the bespoke pinstripe suit, not to mention his choice of whorehouses and especially that gold Rolex around his wrist.

Behind Jared, leather creaked again. Tristan had noticed

the watch, no doubt.

Jared was about to get up and get out of the way so Tristan could get to work on his potential client, but the way the guy looked back and forth between them made him stay still.

“You two work together?” So he was American, though

Jared couldn’t put a finger on a regional accent.

Jared glanced at Tristan, who had in fact sat up straighter now, and raised an eyebrow.
Do we?

Tristan’s eyes were fixed on the potential client. “Depends on what you want, and how much you’re willing to pay.”

Oh God. Jared always expected the unexpected in this

place, but the idea of working with Tristan? Oh fuck. Ooh

fuck.
He
would pay top money for that shit.

He turned back to Mr. Gold Rolex. The guy’s lips quirked

in an odd smile, and he slid—uninvited, but not unwelcome—

into the booth across from them. “I’m willing to pay for good quality,” he said. “But . . . I don’t buy anything sight unseen, so before we start talking about throwing down cash, I need to see the two of you in action.”

Tristan snorted derisively. “You think there’s a free

preview?”

“Not necessarily free.” The guy shrugged as he pulled out

his wallet and set it on the table. The cash-stuffed gauntlet 6

thrown. “But perhaps a sample of sorts. And if I like what I see? Then maybe we can negotiate from there.”

It’s one step closer to making rent,
Jared told himself, suppressing the flutter of nerves. With Tristan involved, he suddenly wasn’t quite sure his bag of tricks was enough.

“Twenty quid apiece,” Tristan declared. “And you get a

kiss. Or, well,
he
does.”

Jared’s breath got lost somewhere in his throat. His heart beat faster as the john reached for the wallet and pulled out the money. Rolex laid the notes beside the wallet, dead centre on the table, and then gave both of them an expectant look.

Jared gave Tristan a short nod, because Tristan was now

arching that eyebrow at him.
Whatever,
Jared hoped his half-shrug said.
Money’s on the table, and I’m game if you are.

Though “whatever” didn’t begin to cover what he felt when

Tristan leaned over and touched his lips to his. Jared jolted a little, thinking only,
Oh shit, I didn’t know he was a kisser.

Of course, the kiss had been discussed, negotiated,

bought and paid for, but it was nevertheless a surprise. And a hot one. Not tender—the john didn’t want to see a seduction.

Much like somebody dial ing into a porn camera, he wanted

to see something juicier than banter or a flash of skin. But that kiss counted as both: seduction and foreplay. It started gently enough, a teasing brush of lips, Tristan’s fingers splayed on Jared’s cheek, and Jared had to remind himself to do

something, so he opened up a bit and pretended he wasn’t

surprised and also that
he
was a kisser. Okay, so he loved to kiss lovers and boyfriends, but not johns. That would just feel too weird. Too intimate. But now Tristan had kissed him, so would Rolex expect to be kissed too?

Nasty thought, one that almost made Jared’s skin crawl,

but right then Tristan’s tongue invaded his mouth and swept 7

along his teeth, and that thought popped out of existence. He dug his fingers into Tristan’s shoulder, felt the muscle shift under his grip, and pretended this was anything like a work assignment.

No, the john wanted something more than that, and the

art was to make the fake more real than the reality. Johns bought a particular idea of sex—perfection at every level—so now Jared and Tristan delivered the same in the form of a kiss.

No banging noses or clashing teeth. He and Tristan were too good at this, and besides, hell, he wanted to kiss Tristan. More than he had any other guy in a long time, actually, and even though it was only a twenty-quid kiss, he let himself get into it. Really into it.

And just when he had gotten much too far into it, it

ended. Abruptly, as if a timer had gone off and a bell had rung, Tristan broke the kiss and turned to the john. “Like that?”

The man smirked and nodded. “I do, yes. So do you both

fuck and get fucked? Because I will happily pay for both.”

Be still my heart
,
Jared thought, lips still tingling.
A real
charmer.

“I go both ways.” Tristan looked at Jared, that eyebrow

arched again.

Jared nodded. “Same.”
For you, anything.

Tristan winked, the blood pressure–altering motherfucker,

and faced the john again. “You just gonna watch? Or you

gonna join in?”

“Just watching.” The customer’s smirk turned into a

devilish grin that rivalled Tristan’s. “Unless I really like what I see.”

“Which all depends on if
we
like what
we
see.” Tristan gestured at the leather wallet on the table. “One of us isn’t cheap. Both of us will cost you.”

8

“I’m willing to pay for the finer things in life.” The john stroked his chin with his index finger. “How much?”

“Eight hundred for an hour.” Tristan didn’t flinch, but

Jared’s heart skipped. That much? Shit. Tristan had been here long enough that he was allowed to negotiate his own prices as long as Market Garden got its cut, but eight hundred?

That was more than double what Jared usually got paid.

Significantly
more.

Rolex balked, sitting up a little straighter. “Not sure I’m willing to pay
that
much.”

Tristan’s arm slid around Jared’s shoulders. “Well, that’s to see us both fuck and get fucked. Twenty for a kiss, four hundred for a fuck. We can negotiate the steps in between.”

Fuck, mate. If this guy bails, can we go somewhere and do all
those steps anyway?

The john’s eyes flicked back and forth between them.

“Tell you what. I’ll start at two hundred. If I like what that gets me, I’ll pay for more.”

Tristan pursed his lips. His fingers drummed on Jared’s

shoulder, and he focused on the wallet on the table. Jared’s heart beat faster and faster. At this point, he didn’t give a fuck about the money. He’d had a thing for Tristan for, God, how long now? Shit, whatever Rolex wouldn’t pay, Jared was tempted to pony up himself. He had a little bit of money left, even if it was dog-eared for inconsequential things like rent.

Damn, Market Garden really needed to issue store cards or

something.

Finally, Tristan looked at him. “This sound good to you?”

Jared nodded.

To the john, Tristan said, “All right. Two hundred, and

we’ll go up in one hundred quid increments from there.”

“How much does two hundred get me?” the john asked.

9

“What you just saw, ramped up,” Tristan said. “No clothes

off, nothing below the belt.”

Rolex chewed the inside of his cheek, watching Tristan

and Jared silently for a moment. Jared could already see the mental porno playing inside the man’s head, and he desperately hoped it was as hot as it was in his own mind. And that it became a reality in very, very short order.

Finally, the john spoke. “All right. You have a deal.” He

opened his wallet and took out four fifties. As he slid them across the table, he said, “I have a room at the Meridian Star Hotel. Shall we?”

Tristan didn’t move. “You been here before?”

The john shook his head.

Tristan gestured at the bar. “Quick background check and

all of that. Just a basic one. It won’t take long.”

Rolex eyed the bar, and Jared was afraid the inconvenience might put him off and send him on his way, but then the man nodded, and picked up his fifties. “Excuse me a moment, then.

You’ll wait here for me?”

Tristan lifted his mostly empty drink in a mock salute.

“Consider us yours for the night. We’ll be right here.”

While the john went up to the bar to complete the

background check, Tristan leaned in close enough to kiss

Jared’s neck.

“Are you sure you’re all right with this arrangement?” he

asked, his breath tickling beneath Jared’s ear.

All right with it? Are you fucking
kidding
me?

Jared swallowed. “Yeah. I am. Though I’ve never done this

with a, um, a partner.”

“Nothing to worry about.” Tristan’s other hand slid over

Jared’s leg, dangerously close to his groin. “Just follow my lead.”

10

“You do this often?”

“Never have.” Tristan pulled back, meeting Jared’s eyes.

Then he looked Jared up and down, and grinned. “But I think it could be fun, don’t you?”

“Ooh yeah.”

“Good.” Tristan leaned in again, and this time he did kiss Jared’s neck, making him shiver. “If anything goes south, or gets out of hand, and you want to call it off, just say ‘weasel.’”

Jared snorted. “Weasel? Really?”

Tristan laughed, warming the side of Jared’s neck. “Well,

you’ll remember it, won’t you?”

“Hmm, yes, I will.”

“Thought so.” He pressed a lingering kiss onto the side of Jared’s neck. “I’m looking forward to this, Jared. I’m curious to find out if everything I’ve heard about you through the grapevine is true.”

“The—” Jared straightened. “The
what?
”

“I’ve heard that you’re—”

“Are we ready?” The john’s voice startled Jared.

Tristan sat up. “Ready when you are.” He glanced at Jared

and winked, mouthing, “
I’ll tell you later.
”

Rolex opened his wallet and took out the four fifties

again. As he handed them to Tristan, he said, “Let’s go.”

He must have been here on a business trip. The hotel was

in the West End, and an impressive five stars. Somebody had serious money to spend, even in this shitty economy. But

what did Jared know? He glanced at Tristan, impressed that he’d pegged the guy’s pay grade just right. Hell, Rolex might even turn into repeat business. If the guy stayed for a couple of days, and if they impressed him, they could both be drinking top shelf for a while.

11

They slid out of the booth, Tristan first, and the john

brought up the rear. As they stepped out into the night, a gleaming silver Jag on the other side of the street came to life.

“This way,” the john said, gesturing at the car.

“Help me, I’m trapped in a Harlequin novel titled
The

Billionaire and His Rentboys
,” Jared muttered under his breath.

Tristan grinned and shot him a glance. In the back of his

mind, Jared heard Tristan whispering again,
“I’m curious to
find out if everything I’ve heard about you through the grapevine
is true.
”

Rolex’s driver opened the door and they slid in. Tristan

first, then Jared, then the john.

The car was unsurprisingly amazing. Leather seats. Leg

room. Everything breathed the relaxed luxury some old

brands were just so damn good at. The john’s watch was flashy and vulgar by comparison.

As they rode from Market Garden to Mayfair, the john

leaned into a corner, studying them both, a twist to his lips betraying that his imagination was very much alive. The

mental porno must have been intense, especially since he

couldn’t quite sit still. Jared wondered how long it had been for the man. Was this a habit of his, indulging in the local cuisine? He seemed to know the game, and wasn’t nervous