by Mia Watts
Chris loaded his plate. At first he settled in and ate, scarfing down the food, but the flavor slowed him to savoring appreciation. “Oh my God,” he said, his mouth full. “This is incredible.”
“Your girlfriends stopped by.”
“When?” Chris swallowed, his mouth already watering for the next bite.
“Nine.”
Chris should have been suited by then. “Fuck, why didn’t you wake me up?”
Vin quit chewing and shot him a look of disbelief.
“We’re on a job. I should have been up at seven.”
“They’re coming back in an hour to help us unpack. You’ve got time.” Vin’s look turned smoky, knowing. “Besides, you were up late.” He sank his teeth into a strawberry, closing the morsel away from sight as he chewed.
Chris wanted the right to kiss him, swipe the strawberry from his lover’s mouth with a deep taste. Or ask Vin to put those teeth on Chris’ body again. His dick seemed to think the idea had merit.
“Want something?” Vin asked, his voice dark and low.
You. “Thanks for breakfast,” he choked out.
“Welcome.”
Vin’s gaze dropped to Chris’ mouth, his chest. “I’ll do the dishes. You get into drag.”
“I can-”
“I got it.” Vin hooked his head toward the hall. “Not much time.”
“Right.” Chris stood. Belatedly, he realized his erection still pushed at the cotton sweats. “I really liked breakfast,” he said, heading toward the hall.
Vin choked on his coffee, barely swallowing as laughter rolled forth.
* * * *
“You sure you want to give him up?” Carla whispered three hours later. “He’s really something else.”
The women’s admiration grated on Chris’ nerves. He’d watched Vin smile and flirt casually with them for the past hour. Seen the way they twisted to look at his ass. And Vin didn’t seem to mind.
Fuck him.
Oh, God, he had. His body quivered knowing exactly what it wanted more of.
“Course not. I like my toys,” he said, flashing what he hoped was a sincere smile.
“You ever want to do a threesome?” Doreen asked.
“What are you ladies whispering about?” Vin asked. He flashed his sexy smile and Nina blushed.
“Vinny?” Chris sang.
“Yes, baby?”
“Can’t you unpack the office or something?” Chris asked sweetly.
“And leave you? With them?” Warm and teasing, his smile charmed the women. It set Chris’ teeth on edge.
“Yep.”
Vin caught him around the waist and hauled Chris up against his hard, sweaty body. “Yes, ma’am.” Vin’s eyes grew serious. “Whatever you want is yours, honey. Just ask.”
Carla aw-ed.
Did he mean it? It looked-real. Chris wanted a lot of things, and they all included Vin naked in some form.
Vin bent, his eyes trained on Chris’ lips. The moment stilled. Flutters hit Chris’ belly. Memories from the night before when Vin had looked at him that intently brought other memories of thrilling ecstasy and ass-pounding pleasure. He thought of Vin’s face as orgasm took him so hard he shouted with the force of it, gnashed his teeth and flexed into shooting proof of his satisfaction.
Sharp pain seared Chris’ groin. Gasping, he reeled with the double attack of pain and regret.
Concern clouded Vin’s eyes. “Hey,” he murmured. “You all right?”
“Christy? You okay?” Doreen asked.
If possible, Vin’s tender concern made the situation worse and Chris planted a hand on his chest to push him away. “Fine. Cramps,” he bit out, loud enough to be heard by everybody.
He saw confusion, disappointment in Vin’s eyes.
“Don’t,” he snapped, hoping Vin took the hint.
“Yeah, sure.” He dropped his arms and turned stiffly away. “I’ll see you ladies tonight.”
Chris didn’t look to see whatever smile he conned them with. He didn’t feel much like losing Vin to a gaggle of women. Damn these pantyhose.
A kiss. Just one kiss! Please?
Someone up there hated him.
“Aw, poor guy.” Doreen tracked Vin’s movements until he’d disappeared.
Now or never, Chris thought, taking a breath. “Do you know where I can get seedlings?” Chris pretended to polish the statue she pulled from the box. “You know, of um-oregano?”
The ladies exchanged looks.
Chris ducked his head and reached for another newspaper wrapped knickknack. “Vinny-he eats a lot of Italian food. Before we moved, I had my own set-up. Of herbs.”
Carla snorted.
Nina elbowed her and Doreen smoothly stepped between them.
“Your own herb garden? How nice,” Doreen cooed.
“Some specialty stuff,” Chris hedged, looking at her meaningfully.
“Oh?” Doreen’s smile twisted knowingly.
Chris darted a glance toward the direction of the office. Time to drop some key words from the cover story. “My friend, in Emerson, said she heard of someone in this neighborhood who could help me get my garden started. She said she’d put in a good word.”
“We might know someone,” Doreen said.
“Cut the crap, Doreen. We knew she was coming,” Carla said. She rolled her eyes at the blonde in obvious irritation. “You’re the grower-”
“Gardener,” Doreen corrected sharply.
“Gardener we’ve been expecting. We heard you might settle in one of the other three regions,” Carla enthused. “God, are we ever glad you settled here!”
Nina nodded. “The Green-Queen.”
“Shh!” Doreen glared at her cohorts.
“Oh, please, Doreen. We need the business help. We asked the boss and the boss delivered.”
Chris smiled, making a show of his relief. “Oh, thank God. I thought I had the wrong contacts. You had me worried there for a minute.”
Carla laughed openly. “What made you choose us? With your references, you could have gone anywhere.”
Hot damn, it worked.
“I needed a change,” Chris answered. With any luck, fictional Christy had moved into a change.
“But why represent three gardeners instead of a dozen in Morrison or Pendleton?” Doreen asked.
Those weren’t among the list of other territories in the case file. Chris pursed his lips, studying Doreen. “Hinkner and Washal?” he corrected.
Doreen’s smile brightened ten-fold. “Exactly.” She wrapped Chris in a big hug.
Passed the test. “Less competition. Greater room for expansion,” Chris answered the earlier question.
“Well, whatever the reason, we’re glad you’re here.” Carla said. “We’ve got something special for you tonight.”
“Very special,” Nina said.
“Can’t wait.” Chris heard the distinct sound of a shower running and darted a glance toward the office. “So the seedling?” he asked.
“After tonight,” Doreen promised. “But now you should get yourself fixed up. I have the caterers at the house working, but you know how they are-constantly wandering without direction. Come on, girls. We have a lot to celebrate tonight.”
“Amen to that,” Carla whooped.
The thought of Vin’s incredible body slicked with hot water distracted him. Part of his brain still worked, though, and Chris hooted a pathetic cheer. Right about now, the bathroom lighting would glisten of his muscles. Vin could be soaping up his rock-hard cock. Pain shot to Chris’ groin. “Ow! Fuck!”
“Aw, honey, take some Midol and lay down for a few minutes. We’ll get out of your hair.”
Chris didn’t know which of the women had spoken. Didn’t care either. His brain and his cock had one thing in mind-had two things in mind. Taking off the damn pantyhose and finding a way to fuck Vin.
He barely got the door shut but already, he hauled up his skirt and tucked it into the front waistband. Chris reached inside the mesh death-trap-for-males a
nd freed his junk. “Okay boys, let’s see what Chef Vincent’s cooking up in the shower.”
Kicking off his flats, he sauntered toward the hall bathroom. Time to settle up, Vin.
Chris eased into the bathroom through billowing steam. He could easily see Vin through the glass encased shower block. With hands pressed to the wall as though holding it up, Vin hung his head and let the water beat between his shoulder blades.
Rivulets formed translucent snakes on his back and over his perfect, round ass. Vin groaned, rolling to his back on the adjacent tile. He lifted and rested the back of his head on the wall, eyes closed, letting the spray touch every part of his front.
Vin’s cock strained upward, taking the insignificant pelting of water on its rigid length and shone with the same reflected light as its owner. An uninvited voyeur, Chris couldn’t tear his gaze away from the sheer beauty of Vin’s form, the composite of the man whose dry humor and hard body stole Chris’ breath and filled his thoughts.
What had last night meant to Vin? Had he used Chris to satisfy his libido and knew that he’d be willing, or did it open the door for something else? Vin had flirted more with the three growers than he had with Chris.
Seeing Vin exposed, vulnerable in his shower as he rested against the cold tile, Chris felt inadequate to the need. Inadequate and disposable.
Chris willed himself to say something so Vin knew he had company. Desire to join him in the shower, even fully dressed, and take Vin’s dick in his mouth lost to fear. Will and desire battled, holding his voice silent and staying his feet.
Inevitably, Vin took his full cock in hand, rubbing up and down the length. He barely strangled off the end of a groan when he thumbed his slit. Eyes still closed, he reached between his legs and fondled the drawn skin of his scrotum. He lifted and rolled them in his palm and up against the base of his shaft.
Chris chest ached and he realized he’d been holding his breath. He could almost feel the ticklish, waking nerves began their ache. His own body sympathetically tingled. Chris reached into the restrictive mesh to pick up Vin’s rhythm, to make it his own.
Vin teased himself with feathery strokes to the underside of his engorged cock, like he had with Chris. Dark and deep from his gut, an involuntary groan slipped from Chris’ lips. He didn’t care if Vin heard him. Vin already knew he wanted him.
He flicking his gaze upward. Vin’s slitted, glittering gaze trained on him. Watching Chris watch him.
Vin’s soft, quickening pants escalated. Soon. Vin would come soon.
He devoured every nuance of Vin’s excitement as it built, from corded neck and flexed body, to the pump and twist of Vin’s fist around his gorgeous cock, his excitement escalating when Vin swept from base to crown, jerking faster.
Chris groaned wordlessly, parting his lips, giving Vin a visual to imagine as he seamlessly pumped his cock. Vin’s seemed to take the invitation, locking his gaze on Chris’ open mouth. His expression burned with arousal.
“Come for me, damn it. Lose control,” Chris pleaded, feeling his own orgasm advancing.
Vin pumped his hips into his fist, grunting as he stroked harder, faster.
“More, Vin,” Chris commanded. “Because I’d fuck you harder than that.”
Vin bellowed as thick, ropey cum shot into the falling water.
Chris let himself go, gasping as orgasmic jets shot from his cock in answer.
Sluggishly, reluctantly, Vin pushed away from the tile, glancing at Chris before turning his face and body into the shower. He blew out, sending droplets flying, then twisted the nozzles until the steady drum ceased. Vin shook back his hair. He opened the glass closure and dripped his way over to Chris.
He touched Chris’ cheek, descended in cautious gradients to cover his mouth. Droplets hit Chris’ face. Chris didn’t care. They transferred from Vin’s body to his like smaller wet kisses.
Vin’s moist lips smoothed and warmed before retreating.
“Earlier, in the living room, that was about the tucking?” Vin asked.
The near kiss. He’d been thinking about it in the shower? God, Chris hoped so. He needed encouragement. Needed to know their mutual attraction didn’t come about by libidinous necessity but mutual desire.
“Yeah,” Chris said, hoping Vin understood the full implications of the confession.
Vin traced Chris’ bottom lip with his thumb. This close, the telltale signs of a hidden smile couldn’t be ignored, and Chris wondered how many times his sexy partner had masked his true feelings-feelings that would put Chris out of his misery, or create more.
“I turned you on,” Vin said, his voice taking a husky edge. “Before I even kissed you, it turned you on knowing I would.”
Yep, Vin understands the full implications of that confession.
“Turned me on? Turned? For a detective, you can be really dense,” Chris chided.
Say it back to me, Vin. Tell me I turn you on, too. Tell me this isn’t a one-sided deal and you want me around like I want you around.
“Good.” Vin moved away, reached for his towel.
“Right. Good,” Chris repeated, shaking his head. Fuck that hurt. Might as well have said thanks for the yank off duet, let’s find some chicks.
“Never seen a woman jack-off,” Vin teased. “But I think your legging-things are shot to hell.”
Chris didn’t need to look. He could feel the cool, sticky cum smashed between his dick and the hosiery. He pressed his glossed lips together.
He’d smudged some on Vin. Didn’t think he’d tell him though.
But lip-gloss meant Chris hadn’t changed out of drag. Wig tape irritated his hairline and the fucking bra pinched. He must have been a sight walking in with the front of his skirt tucked out of the way and his falsies jiggling while he fucked his fist and drooled. It was a damn miracle Vin had been able to get off once he’d laid eyes on Chris.
“I gotta go get ready.” Chris didn’t think he could hang around any longer, waiting for an admission that wouldn’t come. He paused just outside. “I’m in with the ladies. They’ve accepted the cover. It looks like they’ve got something special planned for Christy tonight, so I’m going to put on the wire and call in.”
“That’s good.”
Chris huffed, wincing over the overused word. “Yeah, it’s all good, isn’t it? I’ll catch ya later,” he said, not caring if Vin heard his disappointment.
Chapter Six
“No, really, I don’t dance,” Chris told the leering older man for the second time.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun. Let’s give them something to talk about. I’ll even keep my hands to myself,” Harold promised in booze-saturated words. His eyes, however, never left Chris’ falsies. And if the spittle in the corners of Harold’s mouth meant anything, Chris could be sure he would make a grab.
Tall and distinguished, Harold did have attractiveness going for him. And a head-full of thick, white hair. Chris casually searched the room for Vin. He almost smiled when he found him in conversation with a couple, his gaze locked on Chris.
“In that case, yes,” Chris said, sending Harold a forced smile.
He took Chris’ glass and put it on the table. Harold pulled him close. “You know, dancing is like sex with your clothes on.”
Great.
“Christy,” Doreen said, waving to him.
“Hi, Doreen. Oh, I’m so sorry. Well have to finish this later, Harold.” Chris slithered out of Harold’s hold.
“I’ll be waiting,” Harold promised. Threatened.
Chris steered Doreen in the opposite direction. “Thank God you interrupted that. I owe you.”
“Lucky you, there’s a chance right now.” She laughed at her own cryptic joke. “Don’t worry about Harold. He likes women, especially bigger ones.”
Should Chris be affronted? “Bigger, huh?”
“I don’t mean anything by it, darling. He just doesn’t appreciate scrawny girls in size twos.”
“And you let him grope? What about his w
ife?” Chris asked.
“Every wife is Harold’s wife, to hear him tell it. Hush, now, don’t say any more.”
Doreen redirected their path and led Chris away from the party. Carla waited for them and ushered them in to another room.
Nina smiled as they all came together. She handed them each a filled champagne glass. A fifth glass bubbled serenely on the coffee table. Whose?
“Welcome to the neighborhood, Christy.” Nina raised her glass.
“Welcome to the neighborhood,” the other two murmured.
A fifth person hadn’t materialized, yet Chris kept the question to himself. He followed their lead, raised his glass and accepted the toast. The air hung heavy with meaning.
Had Vin seen him leave?
Chris continued to sip, wondering what happened next and hoping to hell his wire worked. There hadn’t been confirmation from the sector office after punching in the keypad sequence to notify them of possible activity tonight. He could only assume a tech guy listened to everything on the other end and got it on tape if necessary.
“That’s what I like to see. All my women in one place.”
Harold’s voice slid like cold oil down Chris’ spine. He reached Chris’ side and draped an arm over Chris’ shoulder.
Nina giggled at Chris’ eyeroll. She handed Harold the fifth glass.
Doreen winked at Chris.
You’ve got to be shitting me.
Harold dropped his arm and slapped Chris’ ass. Chris kept his irritation in check. This time. If the shit tried it again, he’d break his fucking wrist. His ass had a fucking reserved sign on it even if Vin didn’t collect on the invitation.
“The Garden Club has a new member,” Harold quipped. “We’re a dedicated group with connections, Christy. Our clientele grows stronger daily.” He snorted drunkenly. “Grows. Get it? The clientele grows, like weed?”
“Harold,” Doreen snapped.
“Hush up, woman. We’re all associates here. All friends. Isn’t that right, Christy?” he teetered against Chris, planting a wet sloppy kiss on his face.
“We meet on Wednesdays at the children’s library,” Carla said. “Second conference room. Great cover, don’t you agree?”
