Quid Pro Quo, Page 2

  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. “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 put his arm around Jared again and 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.”

  “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 on 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 four fifties. As he handed them to Tristan, he said, “Let’s go.”

  He must have been here on a business trip. The hotel was close to the financial centre, 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 paygrade 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.

  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 on 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 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 Bollinger up to the room, but no food. Liquid popcorn for the audience – at a hundred or two hundred quid a bottle; likely there was a nice markup involved here as well.

  Between the high-class room and the top-shelf champagne, Rolex had definitely paid way 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 billfold.

  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 toward 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 to fantasise about Tristan – but no fantasy had ever got realistic enough to even come close to this.

  Tristan turned Jared’s head toward 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. No, those were for Jared’s benefit alone. Oh, 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 co-worker a hand, it was almost like Tristan was doing it for his ben
efit. 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 got 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 bills 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 riled 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, 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 falling backwards, pulling 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 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 off completely. 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 controlling 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 goddamned 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 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 tell-tale 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 rim 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 all, 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 dick, still very much trapped 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 percent certainty.

  He was leaning forward, elbows 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.”

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

  “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 dick. 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.

  “Think it’ll be worth the price to see me put this to use?” Tristan asked.

  The john gulped. So did Jared. Oh, yes, he was getting fucked tonight.

  Tristan draped his clothes over another chair, and then came back to the bed where Jared waited. He was on top again, hips pressed to Jared’s just like before, except they were naked now. Smooth, hot flesh against smooth, hot flesh. Hard cock against hard cock. His kiss was hungrier, more aggressive, or maybe that was just his response to Jared’s hungrier, more aggressive kiss. Jared grasped Tristan’s hair and kissed Tristan even harder as he pressed their dicks together.

  More paper rustling. Christ, that didn’t take long.

  “Suck his cock.” The john’s voice was sharp and commanding, but had a breathless, unsteady undercurrent. His hand hit the table again, and Tristan looked, probably checking to make sure money had actually materialised.