by Saxon James
Elliot lowers his face to mine. “I’m about to make you feel so fucking good.”
“I just… I don’t think I’m ready—”
“I’m not going to fuck you.” He nips at my jaw. “Just relax, okay?”
Easier said than done. I take a breath and exhale slowly through my nose, letting my body relax into the mattress. “Okay.”
Elliot goes back to removing my pants and underwear until I’m naked from the waist down. He licks his lips as he stares at my cock, and when he ducks down, I think he’s going to repay me for sucking him off earlier. But then his hands are on the backs of my thighs, and he’s pushing my legs up. I freak for all of a second at the position, but then Elliot lets out a heavy fuuuck and his grip tightens.
His lips skim over my balls before he dips lower, running his tongue along my taint before releasing my legs and gripping my ass cheeks. He spreads them wide, and barely a second later his mouth closes over my hole.
My brain short-circuits, and I forget to be nervous or embarrassed. When Elliot lets out a low moan, my cock throbs. His mouth works over my skin as his tongue presses at the opening. I tense for a second, but Elliot starts to roll my balls in his palm and finally his tongue pushes inside. Just a little. Sparks of pleasure race down my spine, and Elliot’s tongue keeps working deeper and deeper. I’m panting, thighs shaking, and without even thinking, I plant my feet on the mattress and spread my legs wider.
Elliot’s tongue fucks me over and over, and I barely notice when he slips his finger in until the pressure increases as he works in a second. It’s nothing like when I do it, and it doesn’t take long for Elliot to have me trembling. I bury one hand in his hair and grip tight, then use my other to grip my cock. I want to hold it off, make it last, but as soon as I touch my dick, I can’t stop my hand from tightening, stroking, and then, I’m jerking off so fast it’s only a couple of seconds before my orgasm hits. Rope after rope of cum explodes over my fist, my stomach, and my chest. And even after my dick relaxes and Elliot gives my hole one final flick with his tongue, I’m barely able to focus. That was incredible.
He goes to climb off the bed, but I grab him around the waist and pull him down on top of me. My cum smears between us as I kiss him hard and deep, tasting myself on his breath, and I don’t let him go until reality starts to trickle back in. “You’re amazing,” I sigh.
His lips press together, making him look incredibly proud of himself. “You’re welcome.”
“And so modest.”
“I don’t need to be when I can make you feel like that.” His eyes crinkle a little in the corners, and I reach up to brush my thumb over the tiny lines. Pulling him close, I roll over so he’s pinned against the mattress, my full weight covering him.
“Not just like that,” I murmur. “You make me feel so many things.”
His lust blown expression relaxes. “You’re perfect,” he breathes.
“You’re welcome.”
Elliot laughs. “Taryn… for once I don’t want to joke.” His hazel eyes soften and turn vulnerable. “I think I’m falling for you.”
My chest feels like it explodes. “It’s about time you caught up.”
He lifts his eyebrows for me to go on.
“I was gone for you almost right from the start.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“I don’t think you’ve packed enough…”
I stare around at Rainer’s open luggage, not expecting all this when I stopped in to visit him. He’s buzzing around his apartment, doing this weird thing where he’s packing but also trying not to.
“Nervous?” I ask.
He huffs out a breath. “I know it’s only a short visit, but goddamn, Elliot, once I see him again, I’m not going to want to leave.”
“Then pack what you need so you won’t have to.”
His blue eyes light up, and he sighs happily. “I suppose there’s no hurry to run back, is there?” His gaze drops to me. “Will you be okay without me?”
I bark out a laugh. “Will you?” Before Rainer got this new drive to grow up, he’d been so wild I honestly didn’t know if our friendship would last.
“Colton will make me behave.”
I shake my head, not wanting him to continue with that line of thought. “Okay, okay, I believe you.”
“And what about your man?” he asks as he drops back onto the side of his couch and starts to fold the pile of clothes he’s stacked there.
Hmm… my man. I like the sound of that. “It’s going good.”
“How good?”
I think about rimming him the other night and I’m already considering blowing off work tomorrow so I can drive down a day early. “Possibly-going-to-impact-my-career good.”
Rainer arches an eyebrow. “But making money is literally all you’ve ever cared about.”
“Well, I feel attacked.” I smile so he knows I’m joking. “I care about other shit, but yeah, my focus is getting set up in life. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Rainer glances around his large, impersonal apartment. “No, there isn’t anything wrong with it. But take it from me, honey, your life doesn’t start once you’re set up. It’s already happening. Plans are meant to be reevaluated.”
“Okay, Gandhi,” I say with a smirk. “I get it, and I’ll have you know I really like Taryn.”
“Taryn?”
Ah fuck. I forgot I hadn’t told Rainer his name.
“I take it by your face he’s still closeted then?”
I frown, remembering how careless he was the other night. “Yes. But if it wasn’t for his job, I doubt he would be.”
“What does he do?”
“Yeah, I already told you his name, so there’s no way in hell I’m telling you that.”
“Why?”
“It would give him away.” I’m not a complete idiot.
“Interesting… so I’d know him, then? Taryn. Taryn…” I see the exact moment it sparks behind Rainer’s eyes, and okay, maybe I am a complete idiot, because holy fuck how many Taryn’s do we know? “There’s no way you mean Taryn Adderson.”
I’m quick to shake my head. “The NFL player? No fucking way, man.”
“Mmhmm.” He stares at me. “I’m just saying, if that were the case, I’d get the closeted thing. And the impacting your career thing.”
“Rainer—”
“But what I wouldn’t get is why either of you were taking that risk. A bookie and a football player?” He starts to laugh. “What a fuck up.”
“It’s not Taryn Adderson.” I hate lying, but I have to, even if by this point it doesn’t matter what I say because he’s clearly not going to believe me.
“Hypothetically then. How could a relationship like that possibly work?”
“We’re not talking about this.”
“It’s a hypothetical, Elliot.”
“Fine! Hypothetically maybe the bookmaker wouldn’t have a job for much longer considering he lost the enormous fucking bet he took and his boss is now breathing down his neck.”
Rainer blinks at me. “I’m not sure which is the more interesting conversation to latch onto here.”
With a grunt, I drop down beside him. “Neither. Because I’m not talking about either one.”
“What’s your boss doing?” he asks softly.
I shake my head. “He threatened me with a photo of me and Taryn. I’m pretty sure he’s got someone following me too. I just need to keep my head down and do my job properly, and it’ll all blow over.”
The look that crosses Rainer’s face is one I haven’t seen for a very long time. It’s one usually reserved for his family and people who cling to him because of his money. “He has people following you?”
“It’s fine. He’s just covering his bases.”
“Honey, that is not fine. That is borderline psychotic.”
“All just part of my job.”
But Rainer doesn’t look happy. I’m
worried he’s about to reach for his scotch like he normally does when he gets stressed, but he forces his breathing to even out. “What does Taryn think of all this?”
“He just wants me to keep my head down and get through it.”
“It’s not scaring him off?”
“I thought it would. It’s a pretty big red flag when you’re trying to keep who you’re dating a secret, but he refuses to walk away.”
“That’s sweet.” Rainer purses his lips. “I’d rather he beat them to a pulp, but I guess not everyone is into that.”
I chuckle, because yep, he’s definitely into the Alpha male type. “You have to promise not to tell anyone about him.”
“I’m going to Ibiza, where no one has ever heard the name Taryn Adderson. You’ll be fine.”
“It’s not Taryn Adderson.”
“Okay, baby.” His tone couldn’t be more patronizing if he tried.
“So when are you leaving?”
“The flight is booked for next week, and I’m planning to stay through Christmas and New Year’s. Now let’s see if I actually have the balls to go this time.”
***
The café down from work is packed this morning, and given how late I drove back from Taryn’s this morning, I really shouldn’t have stopped in. Tapping my fingers against the condiment stand barely does anything to release my anxiety, and I’m just about to cancel my order when the barista finally calls out my name. I hurry forward to grab the cup and push my way out of the café, if I don’t hustle, I’m going to be late for work, which is the last thing I need right now.
Taryn’s preparing for his final home game this season, so it’s been radio silence except for some text messages that came through after I got home from Rainer’s last night. He’s clearly been thinking about the potentially fixed outcome which is no good for his game prep.
My phone starts to ring and Rainer’s duck face selfie takes over my screen. At least that always makes me smile.
“What’s up?”
“Keep walking,” is his warning. “Don’t turn around. You’re right. You’re being followed.”
Damn, he’s dramatic. “By you?”
“This isn’t a joke.” He’s quiet for a moment. “You sure it’s your boss?”
I frown, catching myself before I can glance back over my shoulder. “Where are you?”
“Trailing the person following you.”
“Of course you are. Don’t you have work to do?”
“Delegation is the mark of any good employer.”
“Care to explain why you’re following my follower?”
“After our conversation, I’ve been worried. No one freaks out my best friend. Now laugh or smile or something. Jesus, Elliot, don’t you know how espionage works?”
I smile, but not because he told me to. “I think you’ve been watching too many movies.”
“I don’t think you’ve been watching enough.”
“Rainer, it’s fine. It’s been, like, two weeks now, and they haven’t done anything.”
“And if it was your boss, don’t you think he would have cooled it by now?”
I smirk. “You clearly don’t know who I work for.”
There’s a pause. “Do you?”
Okay, now he’s starting to piss me off. “Look, I’m fine. Nearly at work.”
“And I’ll follow you until then.”
I shake my head. “Ever thought they could be tapping my phone?”
Another pause and then, “Fuck!” He hangs up.
I snicker as I tuck my phone back into my pocket and jog across the road to my office building.
While we have no official start time, it’s an unstated fact that Gary likes us all here before nine each morning, and I’m scraping in by the skin of my teeth. I start down the hall to my office and hurry to close the glass door behind me. I figure at least it gives me a split second to catch my breath and prepare before anyone enters.
It’s so hard to concentrate, though. The more numbers I plug in, the more I focus on tonight’s game, the more I’m bugged incessantly by the idea that I’m right. There are too many bets going against the Sharks for it to be a coincidence. There’s no way to prove it though, not unless I can see some of the other guys’ books.
And they’re not just going to show them to me.
Slowly, I’m able to push my suspicions away bit by bit until they only come surging back every time I take a break. Taryn checks in throughout the day, and it’s killing me to know there’s still a good twelve hours until I can see him. Now that he’s my boyfriend, I want to be wherever he is. We talk in a very coded, roundabout way about his game and we both agree it’s probably better that we leave it and wait to see if anything else comes up. He promises he’s going to be the perfect distraction tonight. And given the night we had after deciding on what to label ourselves, I don’t doubt him for a minute.
The plan is to leave early, but as I’m getting ready to shut everything down, Gary comes in with a bunch of accounts he wants me to take another look at. It’s menial work, cross-checking numbers, but hopefully it means he’s starting to let up on me, even if I do feel like I’m starting from the bottom with him again.
The afternoon drags on, and every time someone passes my office, heading home, I’m hit with a surge of anger that it isn’t me. I could be halfway to Taryn’s place by now, ready to let myself in—with the damn key he gave me. I still can’t believe that part. That I have a key. To his house. It’s surreal. Far more grown up than I’d been prepared for.
At this rate though, I’m going to be driving while the game’s on, and if he loses like we both suspect he might, the last thing he’s going to want to do is rewatch the game so I can perv on him in his tight pants.
But I can’t hang out here and watch it because he’ll beat me back to his place, and I told him I’d be waiting.
And let’s face it, I’ll definitely be naked when he walks in.
A light switches off down the hall, and it suddenly occurs to me I’m one of the last people here. All the lights on this floor are activated by sensors, so at least the back end of the office must be empty.
Fuck, it’s getting late. I quickly jump back into checking the numbers, and when I determine that yes, the accounts do match, I hurry to pack everything up and leave. Glancing into each office as I pass, I confirm I’m the last one here. We have a big front desk with the accountancy logo we very halfheartedly hide behind, and to the left, with a view of Jersey City, is Gary’s office. I move toward it, lights blinking on overhead, and push the door open to leave the ledgers for him to sign off on tomorrow.
Knowing he gave me these to purposely miss Taryn’s game has me feeling all kinds of bitter, but I dutifully place them in his inbox and turn to leave.
Then hesitate.
A quick glance over the ceiling confirms there are no obvious security cameras in here. I could… take a quick look. Without wanting to seem too suspicious, I pick up the pile I brought, along with a few others under it. Any bets for Taryn’s game would have already been turned in, and some of the older guys still operate using a paper only system, not trusting computer protections. I have no clue why they’re still so paranoid. This isn’t the fucking nineties. My whole computer is rigged with a self-destruct option. One quick series of keystrokes, and the entire thing wipes clean. No way to trace it, at least not for the standard police IT department.
I leave Gary’s office, not wanting to draw attention by lingering. Once I’m shut safely back away in my own, I finally dare to look through what I’ve taken. Thankfully, I seemed to have grabbed a real handful, and since I interned with one of the older guys, I can decipher the coded betting slips easily. I frown as I read over them, slowly putting a picture together in my head.
Each of the client numbers match ones on the accounting report I’ve just finished, along with certain names corresponding to certain teams. And the further I go down the rabbit hol
e, the more one number in particular keeps popping up, spread across different bookies, different games, sometimes with duplicate dates. And always the same amount of five thousand dollars. Not only that, every single bet is a winner. Every single one.
I tuck one ankle behind the other and lean farther in, spreading the papers out in front of me as I try to make sense of it all. Whoever this person is, they’re either the most ridiculously lucky person in existence, or they’re crooked as fuck. And I’m definitely leaning toward the latter.
Whoever it is knows exactly what they’re doing.
I get up and quickly check that the hall is still clear before heading back to my desk and snapping photos of the papers. I’m not exactly sure how to put it all together yet, but the thrill creeping through me tells me I’m on the right track.
I rearrange all the paperwork back to how it was, sling my bag back over my shoulder and head out again. Slipping into Gary’s office, I return the papers as though they were never gone, and hopefully, if he has surveillance—which I have no doubt he does—all he’ll see is me dropping off the summary before changing my mind again. If only I could have gotten into his computer.
Hell… seeing it sitting on his desk, screen black and unassuming, it’s almost too tempting. I’m close to rounding the desk and starting a search, and it’s only reminding myself that I’d never figure out his password that keeps me moving toward the door.
I sigh as I step out of the elevator on the ground floor and pull out my phone to call Rainer. He’s lending me one of his cars again so I can make the drive to Philly, and I’ve got to say, sometimes it’s nice to have a friend who’s rich as hell.
He picks up after the first ring. “Elliot, I’m so sorry! I’m stuck at work. Can you get a Lyft to my place? You still have the spare key, right?”
“I do.” I quickly check the time and calculate another half an hour on top of the drive time.
“Okay, well the keys are in the holder in my bedroom—you know the one—and take whichever car you want.”
“Thanks.”
“Anything for you, sweetie. Sorry I couldn’t pick you up.”
