Quid Pro Quo (3 page)

like a first-timer. There was no tan line on his left ring finger like so many of the American businessmen had, so maybe this wasn’t an indulgence behind a wife’s back. Maybe he was just one of those corporate types for whom everything was strictly business, including—perhaps especially—sex.

At the hotel, a concierge ushered them to the lift that

took them up to the penthouse, and the john ordered a bottle of Bol inger up to the room, but no food. Liquid popcorn for 12

the audience—at a hundred or two hundred quid a bottle;

likely there was a nice mark-up involved here as well.

Between the high-class room and the top-shelf

champagne, Rolex had definitely paid a lot more already

for his evening than he’d be paying for Tristan and Jared’s company, regardless of how much he ultimately asked them

to do. But the john had been clever enough to negotiate the price beforehand. Just the surroundings would make every

rentboy worth his salt want to hike up the price in order to fully empty that thick wallet.

The john poured himself some of the expensive

champagne, and then, glass in hand, sank into the chair across from the foot of the bed. Loosened his tie. Unbuttoned the top of his shirt. Crossed one leg over the other. Looked them both up and down.

“All right, boys.” He gestured with his glass towards the

huge bed. “Let’s see what the two hundred I paid gets me, and I’ll decide if I want more.”

Tristan took Jared by the elbow and led him to the foot

of the bed. They sat on the end, and though there was a broad expanse of carpet between them and the relaxed, champagne-sipping john, he could probably see them just fine. Especially since the mirror right behind him sent Jared a mouth-watering reflection.

Sitting on a bed? Beside Tristan? His trousers already far tighter than they needed to be with what the john had paid for so far? This night could either turn out to be hotter than hell, or an exercise in excruciating frustration.

The reflected Tristan reached for the reflected Jared’s face, slender fingertips hooking under his jaw, and the real Jared couldn’t help shivering at the soft touch. It was one thing 13

to fantasise about Tristan—but no fantasy had ever gotten

realistic enough to even come close to this.

Tristan turned Jared’s head towards him. He moistened

his lips. “I think we ought to give the man what he’s paid for.”

Jared didn’t have a chance to speak before Tristan’s lips

were against his. Tristan’s kiss was far more insistent than it had been earlier, as if that had been a preview for Jared’s benefit as well as the john’s. His breath rushed across Jared’s cheek, and he nudged Jared’s lips apart with his own. As soon as he had access, he slipped his tongue into Jared’s mouth, under his tongue, and Jared wrapped his arms around him.

His hands slid across that smooth, slick shirt, the material cool but not enough to temper Tristan’s body heat, and Jared closed his fingers around handfuls of the fabric. Any other night with any other man, he’d have yanked it off, but
no
clothes off, nothing below the belt
—that was the rule until more money was on the table.

Someone released a slow, heavy breath. Glass clinked on

something solid. Jared imagined Rolex getting comfortable

as he watched them, but Jared didn’t look. He kept his eyes closed. It was so much easier to get wrapped up and lost in Tristan’s kiss like this, with precious little to distract him.

Not that much could distract him from a man who kissed

like this. Aggressive, deep, but
focused
. As if he wasn’t out to get his tongue down Jared’s throat or just crush their lips together. Everything he did was deliberate and calculated, from the way he teased the corner of Jared’s lip with the tip of his tongue to the way he cupped the side of his neck and ran his thumb back and forth along Jared’s jaw. Or the way his other hand drifted down the front of Jared’s shirt and found his nipple and teased it, making little circles with his thumb that were so subtle the john couldn’t possibly have seen. Oh, 14

yes, Tristan was performing for their wealthy voyeur, but he was enjoying this, and he was making sure Jared did too. It was more than giving a coworker a hand, it was almost like Tristan was doing it for his benefit. And that thought was hotter than hell.
Wow, he’s into me?

“What does . . .” The john exhaled hard. “What does

another two hundred get me?”

Tristan broke away just enough to respond with a simple

“More.”

“How much more?”

Tristan’s lips left Jared’s, and he dipped his head and

descended on Jared’s neck. He teased Jared’s nipple with his thumbnail as he spoke. “If you like what two hundred’s gotten you,” he murmured, his breath hot on Jared’s throat, “then another two hundred will be worth it, yes?”

Something rustled. Then smacked. Jared and Tristan both

looked at the john, whose hand was on top of a few flat notes on the table.

“All right. Two hundred more.” He squirmed in his chair.

“Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Don’t overstretch
,
Jared silently pleaded, then jolted when Tristan slid his fingers under his shirt up to the same nipple. With no fabric barrier this time, this unhindered—

uncensored
—contact was insanely intense, especially the scrape of his thumbnail, and Jared gasped. It was completely stupid to get so worked up over such a simple touch, but

Tristan had been the object of Jared’s lust for a long time now, and this was the first time in recent memory Jared had been this damn turned on, and what they were performing for

their audience felt increasingly
real
. Their audience of one, 15

anyway, and this was for money, but damn, some things he

just couldn’t fake.

Maybe the john was into the real thing. Maybe he could

tell the difference. Maybe that was what he was paying for, and what Tristan was deliberately giving him at the expense of Jared’s sanity.

Jared pulled off his shirt, and then claimed Tristan’s

mouth again. He yelped when Tristan tweaked his nipple,

and then rubbed the pain-hard nub back into his chest, just to tease him more. Jared felt the world shift, and then he was fal ing backwards, pul ing Tristan down with him. Tristan

didn’t resist, and they quickly tangled up again like fumbling teenagers.

Tristan spread his legs wide open over Jared’s groin, and

he briefly lowered a hand to pull Jared’s legs apart. Yeah, the show. From where the john sat, that was an eyeful of tight arse and two bulges, still very much clothed, but the angle would most definitely inspire the man.

Tristan broke the kiss and then sharp teeth nipped—

again—at Jared’s chest. He arched, turned on way too much; he just wanted to get all his clothes off and deliver the full porn show right now.

Fuck me right now. We’ll settle up the money later. Just fuck
me.
In absolutely no hurry, apparently, Tristan rolled Jared’s other nipple between his teeth until Jared damn near pleaded for mercy. He gripped Tristan’s ink-black hair, tempted to force him lower, unzip his own trousers, and see if what
he’d
heard through the grapevine was true.

Tristan paused again, and gave Rolex a sly look.

“Come on, take the shirt off,” the man said. He was

starting to negotiate—probably a bad sign. Though Jared

16

was halfway glad he had a moment to catch his breath. God, he
wanted
Tristan. The confidence, the skill, that ferocious hunger that was somehow so controlled. Now more than ever, Jared understood why the guy was usually booked.

Hell, add me to his regulars. I’ll find the money somewhere.

“You want the other shirt off,” Tristan said, slightly out of breath, “it’s going to cost you.”

“This is all an extra two hundred buys me?” It was hard to tell if he was annoyed or being playful.

“I didn’t say that. I just said the shirt isn’t coming off yet.”

Tristan lowered his hips against Jared’s, and Jared groaned as their hard cocks pressed together—ground together—

through two layers of leather. Jared slid his hands up Tristan’s back, under his shirt, resisting the urge to pull it completely off. Just rubbing his palms across Tristan’s hot flesh was . . . it wasn’t enough, was it? Fuck, Rolex had better pony up some more money and quickly. Or else Jared was going to rob him blind and then fuck Tristan.

He curled his fingers against Tristan’s back, digging his

nails in. Tristan groaned, arching against Jared’s fingers like a cat as he leaned down to kiss Jared’s neck. His breath was hot on Jared’s skin, and they both ground harder against each other. Jared’s head spun. His eyes kept tearing up. God, but he was turned on, and he didn’t know who was control ing this little game: Tristan, who withheld action for money, or the john, who could turn up the heat any time he wanted to if he would just
stop fucking around and put some bloody money on
the table
.

Jared followed the curve of Tristan’s spine with both hands and slid them over that amazing leather-clad arse. Tristan groaned, thrusting against him. Jared was painfully hard now, especially as he imagined Tristan thrusting just like this with 17

only a well-lubricated condom between them, thrusting and

fucking
with this intense, controlled frenzy.

“Jesus,” the john breathed, his whisper barely making it to Jared’s ears over the sound of Tristan panting against his neck.

More rustling. Oh fuck. Jared damn near came when that

telltale smack announced more money laid out now.

Tristan pushed himself up and looked over his shoulder.

Then he looked down at Jared, and the look in his eyes gave Jared goose bumps. “Time to turn up the heat, no?” Without waiting for a response, he sat up and pulled off his shirt.

Holy fuck. Ripped abs, hairless except for that thin

treasure trail just peeking out of the top of his trousers, and Jared didn’t even care if the john hadn’t yet paid enough to watch him running his hands all over those smooth, sculpted muscles. Or tease
Tristan’s
nipples with the semi-sharp edge of a thumbnail, which made Tristan bite his lip and gasp.

Tristan grinned and reached for Jared’s groin. He rubbed

the heel of his hand down the shaft of Jared’s clothed cock, pressing in just hard enough to drive him insane. Then he

went for Jared’s belt.

Jared wondered briefly if there was such a thing as death

by anticipation—if so, that was the likeliest outcome of what they were doing here. He very nearly stopped breathing when Tristan skilfully pulled the belt open, then backed up a little, leaned down, and
oh dear God
licked the skin just above the edge of Jared’s leather trousers, bending his back like a cat, pushing his arse out—for the john’s benefit, but anything that kept the man entertained and, above al , paying more was

legit. More than legit.
Welcome.

Tristan’s fingers were on his fly, pulled the buttons open, gingerly opened the fly and then—oh,
fuck
—traced the pink tip of his tongue along Jared’s cock, still very much trapped 18

in his underwear. Just the contrast between the black and the pink and the white teeth as Tristan grinned like a devil was more than enough to drive Jared insane. Jared’s balls tightened.

He managed to shake his own fascination just for a

moment to touch and caress Tristan wherever he could reach him—shoulders, arms, chest, throat, anywhere at all as Tristan pulled his trousers down. Then, seemingly boneless, Tristan poured himself off the bed. He solidified and stood, and took off Jared’s boots and socks before he also pulled off the half-removed trousers and underwear.

This of course bared Jared to the john’s eyes, his very

aroused, very naked body just spread out on the bed without the protection of Tristan on top of him. And he completely held the man’s focus just now. At some point, Rolex had lost his jacket and opened another button of his shirt. He wore a white T-shirt underneath, which made him American with

nearly one hundred per cent certainty.

He was leaning forward, hands on his knees, fingers in

front of his lips, as if he were forcing himself not to get up and get involved. “What do you think will happen?” the john asked Jared. “You look like you’re extremely hungry for cock.”

Tristan’s. Yeah.
Jared gulped. “Yes, sir.” That was likely what he wanted to hear, and it was the only answer Jared

could articulate anyway.

“Want to feel something big and hot in your ass, giving

you what you need?”

Usually, porno-style dirty talk just made Jared roll his

eyes, but Rolex’s suggestion made him shiver.

He licked his lips. “Yes, sir.”

“But only if I pay for it.” The john grinned. “If I don’t, nothing’s going to happen.”

19

“You’re right about that.” Tristan glanced at the john as he undid his own trousers. “No fucking until you pay.”

Rolex gave a quiet laugh. “Then we’ll see who holds out

longer, won’t we?”

“So we will.”

The two exchanged grins, the room completely silent

except for the jingle of Tristan’s belt, the creak of leather, and the zip of his fly.

Oh, fuck you both, you relentless teases.

“Well.” The john sat back, hands folded in his lap. His

eyes darted towards his wallet, then back to Tristan’s eyes. “I like what I’m getting for my money so far. Please. Carry on.”

“Oh. We will.” Tristan slid off his trousers, and the john’s cool and flawless exterior faltered briefly as his gaze shifted to Tristan’s newly exposed, very erect, and very large cock. He pulled in a breath, and Tristan’s triumphant grin aroused Jared nearly as much as anything else he’d seen, touched, felt so far.

Clothes in one hand, Tristan stroked himself with the

other. Jared’s mouth watered. The john squirmed.