A Matter of Time 07 - Parting Shot (MM) (17 page)

“Good idea,” I replied, sipping on my bottled water. Technically, I was on duty, and no matter how much I wanted to loosen up and drink, it wasn’t a smart move.

“You need to have at least one,” Aaron cautioned before standing up to offer his hand to a guy coming around the table.

I smiled and shook hands and was going to just forget all the faces, as I normally did, but Aaron took a breath and everyone went quiet, even in the middle of the noisy club.

“This is my boyfriend, Duncan. Everybody say hi.”

It was all over their faces, the surprise and interest and sudden scrutiny. When he sat down, his hand went to my knee, as he gestured for the two hostesses and instructed everyone to order whatever they wanted.

He never took his hand off me.

When I reclined, his hand was on my thigh; when I leaned forward, on my lower back. He had to get up to go walk the room, and when he did, he bent and kissed my temple. Returning, I got fingers sinking into my hair until I tipped my head up. The kiss on my forehead was my reward for following direction.

More people came, and a couple of guys, with others in tow, sat on the edge of the table in front of Aaron.

“I wrangled invites for us to a private club,” one of them said, glancing over at me, his gaze missing nothing, moving slowly. “You can bring the flavor of the week.”

Aaron cleared his throat and both men turned to him. “Go ahead and go. Have a great time.”

“You’re not coming?”

He shook his head.

The man who had checked me out was startled. “It’s exclusive?”

“It is.”

“Aaron, I didn’t mean any dis—”

“It’s fine,” he cut him off, which just illustrated the fact that he was upset. Even I could tell. “Have a good time.” They were being dismissed. Aaron really didn’t like what he’d called me.

“I guess we’ll go, then,” one of the guys mumbled.

Aaron didn’t say another word, just completely ignored them.

“Here,” he said when one of the hostesses put a dirty martini down in front me. “Try this. I ordered it for you.”

Gin wasn’t my favorite, but this had more brine in it, which made it saltier, so I liked it better than martinis I’d had in the past. “It’s good,” I said, leaning in and kissing him. “Do I taste salty?”

“Open your mouth and let me really taste you.”

I grinned. “You’re kind of insatiable.”

“I seem to be somewhat addicted to you.”

Our eyes locked and everything else sort of stopped.

“You should go,” Aaron suggested suddenly. “See if you get any bites.”

“I was just thinking that.” I winked before I stood up.

His hand in mine stilled me for a second, and he made sure to squeeze it before he let go.

I really had to wonder how in the world someone had not wanted to sit and soak up every drop of his attention before me. How could you not want Aaron Sutter all over you?

I went to stand at the edge of the dance floor, and after being there for a few minutes, sipping on a coke, I felt a hand on my back. Turning, I found a man I had never met before in my life.

“Duncan?”

“Yes.”

“Duncan what?”

“Who’s asking?” I requested of the handsome younger man. He was pretty: all delicate and perfectly styled. The hair, the tan, his manicure, the make-up: it all said boy-toy to me.

“Clay Wells.”

Bingo.

I offered him my hand. “Duncan Ross.”

His smile was bright as he took my hand but not to shake. Instead, he curled his fingers into mine to lead me away. “I’m Kian.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“And you, Duncan,” he said, stopping to wrap both his arms around my one. “So tell me what you’re doing here?”

I cleared my throat. “I was actually hoping to see Mr. Wells. I wanted to talk to him about something.”

His grin was wicked. “I’m sure you did.”

Clay Wells was sitting in a different room, at a table where it was obvious Kian belonged on his right. When we walked up, the man, who I had only seen in pictures up to that point, tipped his head and smiled at me. “Welcome, Mr.—” He glanced at Kian.

“Ross,” he supplied, unwinding his left arm from mine and sliding his hand up under the back of my shirt. He was probably checking for a wire, but his search was thorough, his fingers dipping into the groove of my spine.

“Mr. Ross,” Clay Wells addressed me, getting up and coming around the table. “Would you like to take a walk with me?”

“I would.”

He snapped at Kian, and he was instantly off me and going back to his seat.

“Wow,” I said, falling into step with Wells, walking out toward the patio. “He’s certainly well trained.”

“Yes, he is, and if you’d like a demonstration of his talents…,” he trailed off salaciously, “do please let me know.”

“Not right now, but I’ll keep it in mind.” I winced. “That’s my whole problem.”

“Tell me.”

It was just the two of us outside by the railing with the blazing bright Vegas strip below us. Funny, but under different circumstances, I would have found Clay Wells alluring.

He was a little shorter than my own six four, built solidly with wide shoulders and a narrow waist. Unlike me, he was not bulked with muscle, more like Aaron, with a swimmer’s build. His hair was a warm chestnut-brown, cut short, and his eyes were a lovely shade of hazel under thick lashes and brows. He was handsome in that sort of classic way, where he could easily be a pilot or a doctor or a newscaster. It still surprised me when I met career criminals because so many of them didn’t look like you ever thought they would in a million years. Mr. Wells definitely would have flown far under my radar.

I turned to face him. “Let me get right to it.”

“I wish you would.”

“You don’t know me, but I know you.”

“How?”

“Evan Polley was my boyfriend’s brother’s friend.”

“That’s a lot of people in there.”

I shook my head. “Not really. I knew Evan through Max Sutter, and Max Sutter is—”

“Oh.” His brows lifted. “You belong to Aaron Sutter.”

I squinted at him before pivoting to walk away.

He caught my bicep tight. “Mr. Ross?”

“If you’re just gonna fuck around with me, I’m wasting my time.”

His face hardened and his eyes closed to slits.

“We both know that Evan Polley is dead. When you got wind that Aaron Sutter was going to be in town you thought,
What the fuck is that about? Why is a friend of the guy I just got rid of showing up to play in my sandbox
?”

“I have no idea what—”

“I know you need someone to take over what Evan was doing for you,” I explained. “And since I have access to a jet, as well as a helluva lot more money than he could have ever dreamed of, I thought I would throw my hat into the ring.”

“And why would I ever consider even talking with the kept man of a billionaire?”

“Because I’ve got bigger plans than that,” I said icily. “All I need is some startup capital, and I can walk away from spoiled little rich boys.”

He was quiet a minute, circling, looking me over from every angle before turning to face me. “It’s a good story, but I’m not sure I buy it. How close were you and Evan Polley?”

I made a face. “Not like that. Evan wasn’t gay.”

“No, no he wasn’t. And you are?”

“I’m whatever keeps me in clothes and cars and off the street,” I answered flippantly.

“And what makes you think I’d deal with you and not your handler?”

But I knew why, and technically, it was the same reason Aaron himself couldn’t date another rich man. “’Cause you’d have no control over my boyfriend. He could buy and sell you if he wanted. But me… me you know I want out. Me you know I want something, and I’ll do anything to get it.”

“Really?” He sneered, stepping close, two fingers under my chin. “Anything?”

All of them were the same, and it never failed to disappoint. You said the word “anything” and all thoughts went south to their dicks. Why not something more creative?

“Get on your knees.”

I did it instantly, without thought. He had to see I was serious.

He exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. “Well, I very much see the appeal of having a man like you at my disposal. I’m sure Mr. Sutter enjoys ordering you around.”

“Do you want me to blow you or not?” I groused irritably, my heart hammering in my chest, wondering how the hell I was going to get out of it if he said yes.

“No, not here,” he insisted. “I just wanted to see if you would.”

“And so, what?” I griped, standing up. “I’m just gonna get tested over and over?”

“You’re not the only game in town, Mr. Ross.”

“I’m the best option you have, Mr. Wells.”

He studied me. “We’ll see.”

“What does that mean?”

He got close and started unbuttoning the front of my shirt.

“More tests? You think I’m wired or something? Undercover?”

“No,” he said with a huff as he opened my shirt. “I’ve tried all my life to have a body like yours, but I just can’t do it. Not built right.”

I stayed still and quiet.

“All this definition, the carved six-pack…. I’ve done everything,” he murmured, sliding his fingertip up the deep groove in my abdomen. “And I bet it comes effortlessly to you.”

“No” was all I said.

“Are you hard all over?”

“Touch me and find out.”

His nostrils flared. “I would love to, but again, not here.”

“So if you like big men, why not have one?”

“So far I have yet to find one willing to submit.”

“Really?”

“Yes. They’re either body-builder types that I don’t find particularly appealing, or men far too dangerous to house-train.”

“I see. You keep lap dogs.” I shrugged.

“Yes, men like Kian.”

“Well, he’s beautiful.”

“He is, but he’s a boy, not a man.”

My body washed cold, because even in the middle of an op, I had to know if the pretty puppy was legal. “Yeah, but he’s what: nineteen, twenty?”

“He’s twenty-four, but that’s what I mean.” He sounded disgusted. “He looks so young. Too young, really, for my taste.”

I was relieved; twenty-four, you made your own bed. “So you like to fuck men?”

“Yes. Not just male. Big, strong, rugged… does it for me.” He was gazing at me like I was food. “Does Aaron Sutter fuck you?”

“’Course.”

The tremor ran through him, and I watched his pupils dilate. “I want to.”

I gave him my best smile. “Let’s make a deal, then.”

“No. As a sign of good faith, you come by my room around midnight and we’ll talk again.”

“I can’t do that. I’ll be missed.”

“Then make it so you won’t be.” He bit off the words, reaching up and pinching my nipple. “And make sure you have a plug in your ass when you show up. I want you stretched and lubed so I don’t have to mess with it.”

I was annoyed, but I stood there and watched his eyes widen as he noticed the scar close to my left pectoral and then the next and the next.

“You’re a gladiator, huh?” His groin brushed my thigh and I could feel his erection through his slacks. He was rock hard with desire.

“It’s not what you think.”

“I want to bareback,” he whispered.

“You’ve lost your mind,” I said, taking a step back.

He grabbed hold of my belt buckle, fingers sliding down into my jeans. “Fine, but you will be ready for me, and there will be others there to help hold you down.”

“Like I said, midnight won’t work. It’s too late. We should go now.”

He pushed my shirt further open and bent forward and sucked my nipple into his mouth. I jolted away before I even thought about it, years of training deserting me in an instant, drowned under the overwhelming wave of ownership. I was supposed to let him manhandle me if he wanted, but… I belonged to Aaron, and no one else was supposed to touch me.

“What the fuck is going on?”

We both pivoted and the man—my man—charged across the patio toward us, moving easily through the thin crowd, a Thursday night not quite as busy as it would be on a Friday or Saturday at the same time.

He reached us and immediately stepped in front of me to drive two fingers into the chest of the man we were there to talk into working with us. “Who the fuck are you, and what the hell are you doing putting your hands on what’s mine?” Aaron shouted.

Criminal or not, scary or not, Clay Wells was intimidated by the man in front of him, that much was exceedingly obvious.

“I asked you a question,” Aaron demanded, and his voice was hoarse with anger.

“Clay Wells,” he answered, his eyes flicking to mine.

“Don’t look at him,” he snarled. “Look at me!”

Clay was back to giving Aaron his full attention.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but I’ve never heard of you, and since I didn’t give you permission to touch my property, you need to get the hell away from him!”

Clay was freaked out—it was all over his face—but he recovered enough to speak. “It’s just a misunderstanding, Mr. Sutter. I was just talking to Mr. Ross and explaining that I’d like to invite both you and him to my resort this weekend in Sedona.”

Aaron glowered, and it appeared very real from where I was standing. “I saw what I saw. Your hands were all over him.”

“Again, a misunderstanding. Please accept my sincere apologies. He didn’t say he was with you.”

Aaron rounded on me. “You didn’t say you were mine?”

I opened my mouth, and he backhanded me across the face. “Shit.” I groaned for effect, because he’d pulled the punch, of course. I felt a light sting, but he could have split my lip if he’d wanted to.

I had to give it to Aaron; he was a natural.

“Come here,” he growled, grabbing hold of my shirt and tugging me after him. “You too, Mr. Wells.”

Aaron led me to a small bungalow on the other end of the deck, shoved me inside, waited for Clay Wells, and then zipped the tarp closed after he was in.

“Get on your knees,” he snapped out the order.

I did as I was told.

“Do you have things you own as well, Clay? May I call you Clay?”

“Yes, please, and I do,” he whispered, visibly amazed at what was transpiring right in front of him. He didn’t know who to look at, me on the floor, or Aaron flopping down into a heavy wooden chair with a thick pillow on the seat.