Take It Off (5 page)

“My, my, he wears ‘losing it’ well, doesn’t he?” Rolex taunted.

“He does.” Jared reached back and held onto Tristan’s hips as he kept riding him in time with the music still playing somewhere in the background. “Don’t you, darling?”

Tristan didn’t care. He didn’t care at all. Let them tease him, because he couldn’t think past his impending orgasm and this taut, gorgeous body moving up and down on his cock—
holy
fuck
, Jared
—and he was
this close
to calling time on their game and just fucking the hell out of Jared.

“Faster,” Rolex said, almost whispering. “Do it faster.”

“With pleasure,” Jared purred, and obeyed.

Tristan shut his eyes tighter and held his breath. That didn’t help. His head just got lighter, and his orgasm just got closer, and he couldn’t remember ever being inside someone who moved like that, as if Jared wasn’t about to stop performing his lap dance just because he was getting fucked.

Getting fucked? Hardly. Tristan may have been the one with the condom on, but Jared was in control. Jared was on top. Jared was fucking him. And Tristan was falling apart. No matter how much he held back, the only thing he had a grip on was this bloody chair, and even that wasn’t going to last long with the way his hands were sweating.

Movement beside him brought him out of his thoughts. He had just enough time to realize the john wasn’t on the couch anymore before a warm hand touched his shoulder. Tristan sucked in a breath. Rolex’s hand drifted from Tristan’s shoulder to his neck, then up to his face.

“You look like you could use something to keep your mouth busy,” the john growled in his ear, and Tristan didn’t resist at all as the man slid two fingers into his mouth. Hot, salty skin pressed against his tongue. He closed his eyes again, groaning softly, and sucked Rolex’s fingers.

“I should charge you for that,” Jared said, and he was out of breath. His voice was shaky, just like it always was when Tristan pushed him right to the brink. Tristan couldn’t even grit his teeth, not with those fingers in his mouth, and he groaned again, this time with both frustration and arousal.

“He really knows how to dance, doesn’t he?” Rolex whispered.

Before he could tell himself not to fall for it, Tristan opened his eyes, and now he was both watching and feeling Jared rising and falling on Tristan’s cock while turning his hips and shoulders. Still dancing. God, he was
still dancing
.

Jared’s head fell back. Tristan caught a glimpse of his face in profile, and Jared’s lips were pressed together, his brow furrowed. So close.
So
close.

Fuck. To hell with it.

Tristan let go of the seat. He grabbed Rolex’s wrist and pulled his fingers from his mouth. Then he grabbed onto Jared’s hips and, as much as the position allowed, thrust up into him.

Jared moaned. His body went almost completely slack for a second, but he recovered, and he started to move with Tristan instead of the music.

So what if he’d lost control? So what if he’d lost whatever game they were playing? He couldn’t help it. He wanted Jared, needed Jared, had to have Jared, and didn’t give a damn about anything else.

“Oh shit,” he breathed, and shut his eyes tight. He gritted his teeth, forced himself into Jared, and came so bloody hard, he had to—ironically—grab onto the chair again to keep from collapsing.

He heard husky laughter, turned on and amused, and the john’s hand patted his cheek just a bit too hard. “Doesn’t seem right to let the disobedient one come and the good boy gets nothing.”

“Hardly . . . uh. Nothing.” Jared looked back over his shoulder at the john.

The john reached down, steadied himself with one hand on the back of the chair, and then took Jared’s hand and wrapped it around his cock, moving. Jared moaned, movements speeding up as the john made him bring himself closer to climax.

Jared got more frantic, less controlled, and just as he was tightening around Tristan’s still-hard and hypersensitive cock, he pulled the john down by the neck and kissed him. It was an open-mouthed, hot, grateful kiss that tightened Tristan’s balls, and not just with arousal. Jealousy flared in his chest as the john kissed Jared back, stroking him faster and then, when Jared tightened more and came, every muscle in his body taut, stroking him through it.

The john broke the kiss. “That was beautiful.” He stepped back, and Tristan saw blotches of semen on his white shirt, making it translucent in places above the massive tent in his hip-hugging tailored trousers.

Then he smirked. “Ooh. It seems I didn’t pay for those orgasms.” Clicking his tongue, he shook his head. “Such a
shame
.”

Tristan felt so bloody good he didn’t even care.

Apparently Jared didn’t either. He slid off Tristan, turned around, and kissed him, gentle and heartfelt. Real. It was
real
. They were both still out of breath, but Tristan didn’t need air badly enough to hurry this kiss, and he let Jared take the lead. Jared teased his lips apart, exploring Tristan’s mouth like he was in charge, and they had all the time in the world, and they didn’t have a turned on, paying client standing next to them.

“Jesus, that’s hot.” Rolex stroked Tristan’s hair while Tristan and Jared lazily made out.
This isn’t for you.
“I could watch you two do that all night.”

“I could do it all night,” Jared murmured as he drew back from Tristan’s lips. He looked up at Rolex. “But we’re not done with you yet.” He reached for Rolex’s waistband, hooked a finger in it, and pulled the man closer. “We should take care of that.” Glancing at Tristan and grinning, he added, “Shouldn’t we?”

Tristan narrowed his eyes and looked up at Rolex. “For a small fee, yes.”

Rolex gulped. “H-how much?”

“Two hundred.”

Rolex didn’t even blink. Without a word or a second’s hesitation, he went to the couch, and Tristan and Jared exchanged grins as the john pulled out some more money. Jared rose up off Tristan’s cock, but stayed in his lap. Tristan wrapped one arm around him, grateful just to be able to finally touch his skin, which was damp with perspiration, still almost feverishly hot beneath Tristan’s palm.

Once the cash was added to the pile, Rolex returned and stood right beside them. “Now. Where were we?”

“Getting you off, if I recall.” Jared reached for Rolex’s trousers.

“One of these days,” the john said, slurring a little as Jared drew down his zipper, “I’m going to pay for an entire night with the two of you. So I can—” He cut himself off with a throaty groan as Jared stroked him. “So I can fuck you. Both of you.”

Tristan shivered. So did Jared.

“Better cash out your retirement fund.” Jared looked up as he leaned towards Rolex’s exposed cock. “We don’t come cheap.”

There may have been a snarky retort on the tip of Rolex’s tongue, or even Tristan’s, but no one said a word as Jared took the john’s cock into his mouth just like he had Tristan’s earlier. Tristan watched him for a moment, mesmerised, but then joined in, running his lips and tongue up and down the thick shaft as Jared teased the head.

Rolex moaned. His fingers were in Tristan’s hair, alternately petting and grasping. Maybe he had a hand in Jared’s hair too, but Tristan didn’t take the time to look. The john’s hips were nowhere near as controlled or rhythmic as Jared’s had been. They moved with more of a jerky, frantic need to thrust. Into someone’s mouth, into someone’s arse, it didn’t matter; he just needed to thrust into
something
.

Jared and Tristan teased him together, their lips and tongues brushing as they sucked the man’s cock, and then Rolex moaned and tightened his grip on Tristan’s hair, pulling his head back. He must have done the same to Jared because they were both suddenly no longer touching Rolex’s cock, and just like he had the first time, Rolex took over, jerking himself off until he came on their necks and chests.

He took a few wobbly steps back, and then dropped onto the couch, disturbing the pile of money. After a moment, he pushed himself onto his feet. “I’m gonna . . . go clean up. Be right back.” He disappeared into the bedroom, presumably going into the bathroom.

While the john was gone, Jared eased off Tristan’s lap, but caught himself with a hand on Tristan’s shoulders when his legs tried to shake out from under him.

“You okay?” Tristan asked.

Jared nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” He wiped his brow with one hand, and then grinned at Tristan as he stood. “You?”

“Oh, I’m fine.” Tristan returned the grin. He rose, got rid of the condom and, as he zipped up his trousers, said, “You’re evil. Just so you know.”

Jared winked. “Turnabout’s fair play.”

“So it is. Maybe we—” Tristan hesitated, his pulse skyrocketing.

“Hmm?” Jared leaned down to pick up his clothes. “Maybe we what?”

Tristan glanced towards the bedroom where the john had gone. Then, lowering his voice and hoping he wasn’t about to make an arse of himself, he said, “Maybe we should do this again. Without the money.”

Jared arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Tristan swallowed. “I mean . . . not professionally. No”—he nodded towards the bedroom—“company.” And fuck it, he couldn’t say this without a shaky voice. He could fuck and be fucked and blow a john’s mind, but suggesting they move beyond the money, that felt like it took an extra pair of balls.

Jared’s eyebrows pulled together.

Please don’t be offended. Or shocked. Or laugh at me.

“You mean that?” Jared still looked confused, but there was something else underneath. He brightened—nearly started to beam—and then tamped down on it. “Like, I don’t know. Just having sex? Both of us?”

“Yeah.” Tristan sighed. “You’ve been blowing my mind for weeks now. I … start to find the
clients
distracting.”

Jared glanced at the bathroom. “Dunno, I like that one.” He grinned then and looked deep into Tristan’s eyes. “Well, technically it would be practice, right?”

Neither Tristan nor Jared had boyfriends—he knew that much about Jared, at least, and had mentioned his own status in the past, but hadn’t thought much about it. Not that it would matter, not with his job. “Technically. Maybe not
actually
.”

“Dress rehearsal minus dress.” Jared put a finger on Tristan’s lips, then kissed him again. “I’m game.”

Tristan refused to let it show, but weeks’ worth of tension melted out of his neck and back. He couldn’t ask for more than a step in the right direction. Maybe they wouldn’t go much further than this, maybe they would, but after being so certain Jared had lost interest in him, Tristan didn’t complain. He was more than happy to cling to this new glimmer of hope that something
might
happen. Something
could
happen.

“You okay with that?” Jared asked.

Tristan nodded. “Yeah. Taking it step by step. My brain needs to reboot. I’m not . . .”
Not yet completely clear.
Yet something gnawed on him, something that wanted more, wanted sweeping off its feet and declarations and weird little cheesy lines like the one Jared had fed him for the john’s benefit. “I’m good.”

“I know you are.” Jared winked. Then he touched Tristan’s face and started to lean in for another kiss, but hesitated. “Think the boss will mind if we take the rest of the night off?”

“Not with that stack of cash, he won’t.”

“Good.” This time, Jared did kiss him, and it was another gentle, lazy kiss. “I need to sleep after all this.” As he pulled back and started to unravel his shirt so he could put it on, he added, “I probably won’t be able to move tomorrow.”

“After the way you were dancing?” Tristan shivered. “I’m not surprised.”

Jared started to speak, but Rolex strolled back into the room right then.

“Well, as always, you boys were well worth the money.” He picked up the notes and handed them to Jared. He kissed Jared lightly, then Tristan. “I’ll probably sleep the whole flight back to the States tomorrow.”

“So soon?” Tristan grinned. “You know where to find us if you come back.”

“Indeed I do.”

Jared finished getting dressed, and after a little more banter, they left Rolex to his hotel room. On the way down the hall, Tristan put his arm around Jared’s waist just like he had the first night they’d come here with this john.

“We’re off tomorrow night,” he said.

“We are.” Jared put his arm around Tristan’s waist too. “But that doesn’t mean we have to wait until our next work night to see each other.” He glanced up at Tristan. “Does it?”

Tristan’s pulse jumped. “No, it doesn’t.”

But do you
want
to wait until our next work night?

Jared pressed the button for the elevator. “Do you have my mobile number?”

Tristan shook his head.

“I’ll give it to you before we leave the Garden.” Jared grinned as they stepped onto the lift. “Call me?”

“Absolutely.”

Funny, Tristan thought as the doors closed behind them, the one time he let go of control, he got exactly what he wanted.

Maybe I should try that more often.