The Dangerous Seduction (20 page)

Ryan makes another face at him and Joseph laughs again. “You’re an asshole,” he mutters.

“You say that like it’s something new. You know that already.”

“I guess.” He makes to climb off the couch.

“Hey!” Joseph catches his hand and tugs him back. “C’mere. I haven’t finished with you yet.” He tilts his head back and stares up at Ryan, his face level with Ryan’s stomach. He slides his hands up and under Ryan’s shirt, spanning his waist, fingers brushing against the small of his back. Ryan goes still, feeling his cock start to take interest, growing and thickening inexorably under Joseph’s scrutiny.

He places his hands on Joseph’s shoulders and peers into his face. He’s not sure what he’s looking for—some kind of affirmation, some clue to what Joseph actually thinks and wants from him. But Joseph’s face is really damn distracting: his pupils dilated, a flush rising to his cheeks, his gaze hungry as he stares up at Ryan. Joseph licks his lips, that little pink hint of tongue swiping over his full bottom lip. He lowers his gaze and licks his lips again as he stares avidly at Ryan’s now fully tented jeans.

Joseph’s hands slide around his waist, fluttering over his belly in a way that makes Ryan shiver all over, and then Joseph is tugging at his zipper and pushing down his boxers. Ryan’s cock springs free and Joseph leans in, angling his head to lick up the underside, Ryan’s cock bobbing against his nose.

Ryan’s hands fall off Joseph’s shoulders and he shudders, his toes curling and the hair on the back of his neck pricking up. He lets his eyes fall closed and he forgets…. He forgets about everything except the feel of Joseph’s mouth around him, swallowing him down and taking him in.

R
YAN
ACCOMPANIES
Joseph to the TV studio the following night. He’s taking part in a panel debate about sex discrimination in the workplace. It’s the perfect opportunity for Joseph to talk about another big case the firm’s working—Katherine O’Connor, Wall Street banker, suing her old company for sex discrimination. It’s actually pretty interesting, and he enjoyed pulling the brief together for Joseph despite his lingering resentment at being moved off the McNeil case. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that McNeil isn’t their only case, that they have other clients and other big name litigations going on.

Joseph is good on the show, easily outclassing his fellow panelists. He’s articulate and passionate and knowledgeable, flirting with the camera and Liza, and countering his fellow panelists’ arguments with ease and charm. Liza treats him like an old friend, flirting with him outrageously on and off the camera. Ryan stands just off camera and watches them with what he knows is a sour look on his face, his eyes glued to Joseph’s face.

Estelle’s with him, just like last time, the two of them standing together in stony silence, her very presence radiating disapproval and dislike. It used to bother him when people didn’t like him, but somewhere along the line—maybe when he started fucking around behind his perfect fiancée’s back, or maybe when he started working for Joseph, or maybe even before then, when he decided to become a lawyer—he got over it. He’s not here to make people like him. Joseph barely gives a shit if anyone likes him. Joseph commands respect and fear. Ryan knows that he hasn’t done enough to gain anyone’s respect, but he’s got plenty of his fellow coworkers fearing, resenting, and envying him in equal amounts. But not Estelle. Estelle just doesn’t like him and doesn’t care if he knows it.

“I think your assistant hates me,” he says to Joseph later that evening over dinner.

Joseph smirks and takes a sip of his wine. “She doesn’t approve. She told me so. She told me I was a shit for messing around with someone who was engaged.” He shrugs. “She’s old-fashioned like that.”

Ryan snorts. “I wouldn’t call that old-fashioned, just that she’s not a completely immoral asshole like you or me.”

“If you say so. Being a completely immoral asshole myself, I wouldn’t know.”

Ryan makes a face at him and Joseph laughs.

They go back to their steak, and he sneaks looks at Joseph whenever he can. He can’t get enough of Joseph when he’s like this, so different from how he is at the office. Joseph smiles a lot when it’s just the two of them, something he never does in the office. The thought makes Ryan feel warm and gooey inside like a total sap, and he can’t help smiling.

“What?” Joseph asks.

“Just wondering if you and Estelle ever….”

“Lord, no.” Joseph shakes his head. “I mean, sure, she’s a beautiful girl, but that’s way too clichéd. I might be lacking in any kind of morals, but I know what’s good for the firm, and Estelle’s way too valuable. I would never fuck up our working relationship like that. She’s my secret weapon. And hey, she’s a smart girl, way too smart to get involved with me.”

“Smarter than me,” Ryan says.

“Hell, yeah.”

He makes a face at Joseph, who smiles almost sheepishly back at him. “What?” Ryan asks.

Joseph blows out a breath and pokes at his steak, that faint, slightly embarrassed smile still playing over his mouth. “Oh nothing, really. Just… you might be surprised to learn that I don’t make a habit of fucking around with my employees. Someone once told me years ago,
don’t shit where you eat,
and he was right. He was wrong about a whole bunch of stuff, but not that.”

Ryan swallows; his heart rate has started to quicken. “So what happened here—with me?”

Joseph’s mouth twists and this time the look in his eyes is sheepish, almost wistful. “I just couldn’t help myself.”

J
OSEPH
FUCKS
him hard and deep that night. He spends ages opening him up, fingerfucking him with sticky, spit-coated fingers, pressing him down into the bed and sucking bruises along the breadth of his shoulders, until Ryan is shaking and cursing and on the edge of tears as he grinds his cock down into the mattress. Then Joseph is pulling away, sheathing and lathering up his cock and climbing back onto him. Joseph drives into him with a steady, terrifying pace, cursing and panting and riding him down into the bed. They cry out when they come, loud and hoarse and slamming the bed back against the wall. There are bruises and marks all over Ryan’s skin, and his ass throbs with a steady dull kind of ache that’s simultaneously thrilling and satisfying and painful.

Afterward, he stands in front of the mirror in the bathroom and traces the patterns of Joseph’s fingers and mouth on his body. Joseph slides up behind him and pulls Ryan’s hands away to trace the marks with his own fingers, an avid, wondering expression playing across his face. He catches Ryan’s reflection in the mirror and blushes as he mutters, “I think I have a fetish, I can’t stop marking you.”

Ryan laughs, pulls him close, and kisses him until his lips go numb. They crowd into the shower together and afterward, tumble back into bed, exhausted.

He wakes up a couple of hours later, the incessant pressure on his bladder forcing him out of a vague, foggy dream about running for a subway train. He pads to the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light. The bedroom curtains are open as usual and there’s enough street light coming through the window for him to see by. He relieves himself, leaning over the toilet with one hand braced against the wall. He shakes off, flushes, turns to pad back into the bedroom, and stutters to a halt. Someone’s sitting in the leather chair in the corner of the room, half-hidden in the shadows. He blinks and his heart skips a beat, horror movie scenarios flitting through his mind before his slow, sleep-addled brain finally recognizes Joseph.

“Joseph?” he whispers.

The figure stirs, and he notices that Joseph is holding a glass in his hand, a bottle of what looks like Scotch by his feet. Joseph brings the glass to his mouth, takes a sip, and Ryan realizes that he’s naked. Joseph has been sitting, naked and silent and drinking Scotch in the corner of the bedroom while he watches Ryan sleep.

“Jesus, Joseph, you gave me a scare,” he says with a shaky laugh. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Joseph mutters; his voice sounds strained, a little slurred.

Ryan tiptoes forward, until his shadow is looming over Joseph. “Come to bed. You’re freaking me out, sitting here in the dark.”

Joseph doesn’t say anything for a moment; then he tilts his head back and stares up at Ryan. “Do you like living here, Ryan?”

“Uh, what?”

Joseph makes a jerky, waving motion with the hand holding the glass of whisky. “Here, in this apartment? Do you like living here? With me?”

“I guess. I mean, I’m really grateful that you’re letting me stay. And if you want me out of here then that’s fine. I can find a hotel and I know I should really look for an apartment.”

“I like you living here,” Joseph says. “It’s weird but I like knowing that you’ll be here when I get back. I like that. I didn’t use to like things like that, but now I do.”

Ryan nods, feeling a warm buzzing sensation build deep down in his belly. “Okay, well… that… that’s good. I like that too.”

Joseph tilts his head back. The whites of his eyes are very clear, the black fringe of his lashes a fine shadow against his cheek. Ryan stares back at him, momentarily flummoxed. Then he licks his lips, and says softly, “Joseph, what are we doing here? You keep making jokes and alluding to things, but does this—” He swallows, forces the words out. “Does this mean anything to you?”

Joseph doesn’t speak for what feels like a long while, and then when he does, his voice is quiet and slurred with drink. “I don’t have a good track record with relationships; actually that’s kind of an understatement. There was somebody I cared about. One of those crazy on-and-off things that went on for a long time, a lot longer than it should’ve. I was very young when I met him and I wasted a long time on him, far too long than was healthy for both of us.”

“What happened?”

“It ended, eventually. Since then….” He trails off, waves his hand again, spilling some of the alcohol, though he doesn’t seem to notice. Ryan realizes with dismay that Joseph is seriously drunk. He must’ve been awake for a long time, brooding and drinking in the dark. “I’ve made some bad choices in my life, Ryan. I don’t want you to be part of that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that maybe you should move out and get your own place. Maybe we should quit this thing while we’re ahead. Maybe you should get another job at another firm; I’ll give you a good recommendation. Maybe you have no idea who the hell I am and you should get the hell out of here before shit blows up real fucking bad, ’cause it’s gonna get bad, I know it is.”

“Hey, shut up,” he says. He sinks to his knees in front of Joseph, places his hands on Joseph’s knees, and squeezes his kneecaps, peering into his shadowed face. “Shut up, Joseph, this doesn’t sound like you.”

“You think you know me; you haven’t got a clue.” Joseph chuckles grimly. “You’re just the naïve kid with the big fucking crush and you have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

Ryan sighs and reaches to take the glass out of Joseph’s hand. He takes it away and places it on the floor. “You’re gonna be so embarrassed in the morning.”

Joseph snorts, but he drops one hand to Ryan’s face to cup his cheek. “I’m trying to be nice,” he says, and he sounds so ridiculously sincere that Ryan wants to laugh out loud. He pries Joseph’s hand away and threads their fingers together. He turns their hands around and drops a kiss to the back of Joseph’s hand, his eyes locked on Joseph’s face. Joseph blinks and his mouth twists up in a pained grimace. Joseph leans forward, brings his other hand around Ryan’s neck, and pulls him in. Ryan lets himself be pulled closer until their lips are close enough to brush and he can taste the sour alcohol on Joseph’s breath. He closes his eyes and kisses him.

Joseph moans and slides off the chair, sinking into Ryan’s lap, his thighs wrapping around Ryan’s waist. The kisses grow more fevered, sloppy and lingering. Joseph groans and grinds into him, his dick hardening in time with Ryan’s own.

“Fuck me,” he whispers. “Please, Ryan, fuck me.”

Ryan pulls away, stares into Joseph’s face, then bites his lip and nods. “Yes, yes, okay.”

Joseph takes him with barely any prep. The condom is scarcely on and Joseph is already positioning himself, closing his eyes, throwing his head back, and sinking down onto Ryan’s dick. They haven’t done it this way before, in this position, at this slow, lingering pace. It’s soft, almost gentle, loving even, and Ryan fucks into Joseph with lazy, long thrusts, kissing over every inch of skin that his mouth can get to.

When they’re done, they stagger to bed, still sticky and gross. Ryan curls up against Joseph, and Joseph lets him toss an arm around his chest. He splays his fingers over Joseph’s heart, feeling the reverberations through his fingertips, and presses his mouth into the soft prickles of his hair. He closes his eyes and breathes in Joseph’s scent. He used to hold Daisy like this, the two of them curled up together where nothing else could get at them. Joseph feels different than Daisy, harder and firmer and much bigger, and he’s shifting around, trying to get comfortable in Ryan’s embrace, like he’s trying to get used to it. Ryan tangles their legs together, and feels Joseph groan and make to pull away.

“No,” he whispers, “no, stay.” Joseph groans again but quits moving, settling back into Ryan. He opens his lips, presses a kiss to Joseph’s hair, and feels Joseph’s hand come up to pat his own, then loosely lacing their fingers together. He smiles against the back of Joseph’s neck, and murmurs, “Don’t move; go to sleep; stay here.”

He shuts his eyes and keeps holding on until he falls asleep.

T
HE
NEXT
two weeks are good. Joseph is around a lot more, spending more time at the apartment, so it even starts to feel like they’re—shock—horror—having some sort of normal relationship.

They attend Fiona’s funeral service together, taking their seats in the crematorium chapel. There are a couple of other people from the office present, but most of them decide not to attend. Fiona’s husband and parents follow the coffin inside, and Ryan feels Joseph stiffen beside him as they watch the small procession move up the aisle. Joseph’s face is pale and tense, a small muscle jumping at the corner of his mouth. He bows his head and Ryan stares at his profile—the shell of his ear; the way the short hairs grow around his ear, all feathery soft; his carefully shaven cheek. He thinks about how he pushed Joseph up against the bathroom counter only hours earlier and pressed kisses over those patches of skin. A bolt of heat shivers through him and he curls his gloved hands together.