Josh surged up and caught James in a rough, sloppy kiss. James groaned loudly into his mouth, holding himself up with his arms around Josh’s shoulders as they continued to move together. It took only a moment before Josh’s primal need took over, burning under the surface. He needed to make sure James would never forget this moment between them. And he hoped that maybe… Maybe this was the shift he’d been looking for.
He flipped them over, rolling so James’ back hit the mattress while Josh’s cock stayed inside him. After only a moment of adjustment, Josh parted James’ legs and began to pound into him, the words spilling from his lips as he chased their end.
“You’re mine,” he grunted, words punctuated by heavy thrusts. “All mine. No one makes you feel the way I do. No cock will ever fill you like mine does. Say it. Say it. Tell me you’re mine. Tell me you want me to come inside you…”
James was blissed out. Josh could see it. He was grabbing at Josh, holding his lower back tightly as Josh gave him everything he had, using every ounce of muscle in his body to fuck him. James took it all, whimpering and moaning loudly. “Make me yours, Josh, please. G-God…oh, God.” Josh knew he was close. He pressed his knees into the mattress and pushed them to the end with everything he had left. “Come inside me. Be my first. I wanna feel it… Wanna be yours,” he begged brokenly. Josh dragged his lips across James’ as he dropped to his elbows in a sloppy, heated kiss, forehead to forehead, James’ cock between them getting all the friction Josh knew it needed. “Wanna come with you.” James gasped as James’ words touched Josh at the center of his soul. It was too much. He couldn’t hold back. He had to give the man exactly what he’d asked for.
“I—” Josh cut himself off, his lips against James’ ear. He pulled up and away enough to find James’ watery eyes and pressed their foreheads together again. “Come with me, Daddy. Come all over us while I come inside you, fill you up, call you mine…”
James let go with a harsh cry, clenching Josh as he let his orgasm rip through his body. Josh stuttered and let go himself. He spilled inside James with a shout, the feeling of coming fully uncovered sending sparks through his veins. James’ body obviously welcomed the warmth and milked everything he had as James thrust up against Josh’s abs, making a complete mess of them both—which was exactly what Josh wanted.
There were several moments afterward where they lay there panting and still joined. Josh didn’t care about the sticky mess or the fact that he was completely lax atop James. All he cared about was the fact he was still inside him and basking in the warmth that James’ body provided. It was welcoming, and Josh had zero interest in leaving his arms.
Which seemed fine with James, who had buried his head against Josh’s neck, soft breaths in and out as they both regained composure. Something about this time felt special and…exposing.
Josh lifted his head from where it was buried against James after what was probably too long, his softened cock slipping on its own from James’ body. James shivered beneath him as it happened, and Josh groaned at the loss of heat. He found James’ gaze as his eyes opened, almost shy and unsure. “Hey,” he murmured and immediately felt like an idiot. James just smiled sweetly beneath him.
“Hey, yourself,” he replied quietly, stroking Josh’s back.
“Are you okay?” Josh whispered. James nodded, long and sure.
“That was…everything I’d hoped it would be,” James replied without a shred of uncertainty. Josh blushed hard and grinned.
“I don’t… That’s not… You’re special. You know that, right?”
It was the closest he’d come to saying anything about his feelings toward the older man. For a moment he wanted to drag the words back inside his mouth and mash them down. But James cupped his cheek. “I just don’t do…”
“Shhh-h, Josh. I know. And I’m not taking advantage of you, I promise.” He pulled Josh down, kissing him slowly. Josh melted into it, James’ words reassuring. They lay there and kissed for several moments before Josh pulled back, their bodies all but stuck together.
“I need to get us cleaned up,” he started, their skin pulling as the dried cum stuck to them. They both chuckled at the sight, Josh on his hands and knees above James.
“Maybe a shower? Together? It’s our last night,” James suggested, bringing up the information Josh didn’t care to remember. He didn’t want it to be their last night at all.
“I’d like that,” he agreed, dropping kisses along James’ collar bone. James groaned low and lazy.
“And maybe more of that after some food,” he added. Josh grinned wide as he moved back, reaching for James’ hand.
“Absolutely.”
* * * *
Josh didn’t talk about it, didn’t talk about the lack of condom the next two times he fucked James. They didn’t talk about their situation at all in between.
Josh cleaned James up in the shower then ended up eating him out to orgasm once more. They indulged in cookies and cake brought down by the chef and his sous chefs in towels, gifts for Josh to celebrate his achievement. They followed them with wine, which only helped them end up back in bed, with Josh fucking James slowly and lazily from behind until James was a flushed, tearful mess. Josh woke James in the middle of the night for one more round, spooning him as he pressed into his loose hole, taking his time to bring them to orgasm naturally. James came first then begged for Josh’s cum once again. “Make me yours. Make me yours,” left his mouth over and over. It was everything out of Josh’s wildest dreams. They fell back asleep just like that, Josh still buried inside James until his body softened enough to slip out.
Josh didn’t question any of it. It was as though none of the arrangement existed. They laughed, they slept together, they talked the rest of their time together like there wasn’t an envelope filled beyond its brim with cash buried safely in his bag—an envelope James had slid in there two nights prior. It was more than twice the amount he’d paid for Jamaica. While James surely knew he wasn’t hurting for money now, that didn’t stop him from showering Josh with what he could. A set of Tiffany’s Cabochon cufflinks in sterling silver with turquoise sat in a Tiffany’s signature box next to the envelope. James obviously didn’t care what they’d cost.
* * * *
“Fuck,” Josh muttered through his mouth full of toothpaste and toothbrush. “Fuck!”
“I’ll call the private jet. There’s no need for you to rush like this,” James urged him, still clad only in his comfortable linen pajamas. Josh shook his head.
“No more gifts or favors from you, James. You’ve done enough. You already paid for this ticket. I just wish I hadn’t overslept.”
Josh quickly rinsed his mouth then tossed his covered toothbrush into his toiletries bag with everything else, zipping it hastily enough to almost break the leather bag’s zipper.
James just smiled. “If I recall—which is difficult because it feels like it was a dream in my mind, though my ass sure knows it wasn’t—you were the one who woke me at sometime a.m. to fuck again.”
Josh choked on air as he tossed the small bag into his larger one and began to zip it. “It’s not my fault that ass begs to be fucked every five minutes.”
James helped carry Josh’s bags down the stairs, admiring the way he looked in his jeans and blazer. He looked every bit the contracted artist he’d become. James was so damn proud of him. He couldn’t ignore the heaviness in his chest though, but he wasn’t sure why it was there.
“I’ll text you when I get home,” Josh told him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. James grinned and stepped closer as the driver knocked on the door.
“Be safe. Call me if you have any trouble.” James leaned in for the kiss, though it took everything he had inside him to keep it from turning into more. Josh stole two more of his own accord before pulling away with apparent reluctance. “If you miss your flight, just come back. I’ll make sure you get home.”
“I’m not gonna miss it,” Josh assured him, stealing one
last kiss before heading out of the door at a sprint.
The cloud now hanging over him could have been seen from a mile away if he’d been paying attention instead of falling in love, he was sure. There Josh went, with thousands of dollars of James’ money and James’ whole heart.
This couldn’t continue. James had to stop it there before he couldn’t turn it around.
Chapter Seven
Josh had the messaging app pulled up as he sat sideways on his bed. He was sweaty from a long session at the gym, but no less anxious as he stared at the last message displayed, which had been sent a long eight days prior…
I made my flight and just landed at JFK. I feel like I keep thanking you, but you have no idea how incredible this trip was for me and how much I enjoyed our time together. Text me when you get back. Hope you have safe travels
Complete with a smiley emoji and everything, the message Josh had rewritten ten times eight days ago sat unanswered. And it wasn’t like James had died in a plane crash or some unforeseen circumstances had occurred, because Josh had been copied on an email announcing his own joining of the team the morning after he’d arrived home. To say Josh was puzzled was an understatement.
He’d replayed every second of their last twenty-four hours together, obsessed about them even. Nothing but the conversation he’d had with his mother and the condomless sex stuck out to him as potential for disaster. They’d even kissed several times on Josh’s way out of the door. He would have predicted an increase in correspondence but not an end to it completely. And while eight days wasn’t long in the grand scheme of life, it was in fact the longest he had gone without talking to James in weeks.
Chewing his lips, he typed up five different versions of Hey, Jamie, hope you made it home safely and discarded each one. His emotions pulled at him. Maybe giving in to not using a condom had been foolish. He was sure his mentor would call it an amateur move, and Nadia would never stop making fun of him if she knew. Had that been what had made James not respond? Josh scrubbed a hand over his scruffy jaw.
Sighing, he tossed his phone away and made himself take a shower. Every minute his phone didn’t buzz with a text from James was agony in a way he couldn’t describe. He’d never cared about clients before in this manner. Sure, he looked forward to certain ones, but they were few and far between—and nothing like Jamie. But Josh knew the real root of the problem with the lack of communication from James, and it felt humiliating.
He’d fallen for Jamie. He knew it. He’d known it for over a month. But with each passing day that he didn’t hear from him, the elation turned to a painful ache he couldn’t get past. His sleep was terrible without James beside him. He missed that smile over morning coffee, no matter how rushed, and as he had started work upon his return, he found his hand wanting to sketch James more than anything—so he didn’t forget the details. And because he missed him…like hell.
The shower did nothing to ease the pain in his chest. Checking his phone to find no notifications didn’t help either. One more day without word from James Barnwell… Well…maybe he wasn’t so important to the man, Josh told himself as he stared into the small mirror of his non-luxurious Brooklyn apartment bathroom.
He shaved his neck but kept the scruff he’d been growing for six days. Something about not shaving made him feel better—or maybe it was just that he didn’t have the effort to do so knowing James wasn’t around to see him.
Pulling on jeans and a gray Henley, he didn’t bother with a product for his hair. He had a regular client he hadn’t seen since before Jamaica, and there was a comfort level with her that didn’t make him feel the need to doll himself up. Despite his inner turmoil, he had a job to do. While he technically didn’t need it anymore, thanks to his art contract, it was still good income and he hadn’t quite decided to give it up yet. And if James was no longer in the picture, as his dramatic heart was telling him was the case, then why stop?
He brushed past Nadia in the hallway, his bag slung over his shoulder and sulking. She did a double take and made a face that he ignored. “Excuse you,” she snipped. He kept going.
“I’ve got a client. I’ll be home late.”
“You’ve got an attitude too. Maybe work on that before you get home.” She called him out and he didn’t even slow down on his path to the door, yanking it open.
“Ignore me if you don’t like it,” he replied, slamming it behind him. He knew his anger was displaced, but he wasn’t able to blare it at the person causing it, so it seemed everyone else in his path was at risk. He mentally chided himself on the way to grab a taxi and shot Nadia a quick Sorry I’m an asshole text. She replied as he gave the driver his client’s address, spouting off two middle finger emojis and We were friends first. Just because you’re making money doesn’t mean you get to be a douche. He winced because she had it all wrong. He’d talk to her later and at least set that record straight. While he couldn’t tell her all about James because his wounded pride wouldn’t let him, he could certainly tell her his struggle about what to do next. She’d at least understand that much.
The taxi ride was over forty-five minutes in traffic, but he finally didn’t have to worry much about money. Still ten minutes early, he paid the driver and hopped out as the sun was setting. It was cold now, December in New York, the snow beginning to fall. He’d had naive dreams about seeing the Rockefeller tree with Jamie, strolling down crowded streets hand in hand. He admonished himself and shook away the thoughts as he pressed the doorbell on the familiar brownstone just one neighborhood up from Jamie’s.
A voluptuous older woman answered the door promptly with her dark hair tied up perfectly in a chignon and her lips as red as berries of mistletoe. The smile that spread across Josh’s lips was genuine for the first time in a week. “Josh, darling,” Margaret Carter greeted warmly in her crisp English accent. Josh stepped past her as she widened the door for his broad shoulders.
“Hey, Margaret,” he greeted in that boyish tone that always made her grin. Today was no exception as she walked around to face him, bringing her hands to his jaw immediately.
“What’s this?” She ran her fingers over the dark blond beginnings of a beard, and he flushed with a laugh.
“Just a little something I’m trying, I guess,” he replied a little self-consciously. Her gaze was playful as she looked him up and down.
“I’d say it’s working.” She grabbed him by the lapels of his heavy peacoat and brought their bodies together suggestively. “It’s been far too long that you’ve been out of the country and I’ve missed your company. Let’s get to it, shall we?”
Josh focused on the feel of her full, round breasts against him, keeping his mind in the game by reminding himself of all the things she preferred, all the spots that made her whine and thrash, and how she preferred him to start at the top and work his way down—meticulous, practiced, memorized. This will work, he chanted inside his mind as he tried to force himself to forget his phone and his heartache and to give Margaret all his attention.
Thankfully, his body rose to the occasion. The rest of him was, of course, another matter entirely. It didn’t work. It just didn’t work.
Josh usually didn’t rush off after Margaret, and tonight was no exception. Sitting in her parlor, she lit a cigarette and poured them each a Scotch. It had become a tradition of sorts, since their second time together.
Josh listened to her stories about her latest travels, how the man she’d been seeing was a dud. He was quiet, nodded and laughed genuinely, but his smile wasn’t true. His heart was still aching, and he’d had to rein himself in to keep from crying Jamie’s named when he had come.
Margaret stood to pour herself a second drink, and when he agreed to stay for one more, she abruptly put the decanter down, eyeing him with suspicion. “All right, Roberts. What’s going on?”
Panic flooded his chest as he looked up at her, trying desperately to cover his tracks. “What? Nothing.”
“Right.” Her voice was laced with sarca
sm as she finished pouring the drinks and came to sit beside him on the expensive leather couch. “You forget how well I know you, darling. You’ve never had a second drink with me. And tonight, despite your stellar performance as usual, you were not yourself. You were all work and no play. So spit it out. What’s got you all out of sorts?”
Josh should have known she would see right through him, and yet for some reason, he’d thought he had this one in the bag. Sighing, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and considered how to respond. Apparently, she didn’t need any further explanation.
“Oh, Joshua, you fell in love with a client, didn’t you?” Her voice was full of empathy as she spoke. His gaze flew to hers, his eyes wide with surprise as he absorbed her words. She cocked her head as she realized she was right. “Oh dammit.” Her tone told him immediately how much understanding she had for him. He let his head fall into his hands, unable to hide it for one more moment.
“I fucked up, Margaret,” he admitted for the first time out loud. It hurt, stinging him into his soul.
She ran a hand over his back, rubbing in comforting circles. “You did no such thing,” she said. “You’re human. I’m honestly shocked you made it this far without a hiccup.”
He huffed a humorless laugh, rubbing his eyes wildly as emotions he’d managed to mash down began to bubble up to the surface. “He’s… There’s nothing like him. And I could have sworn he felt the same, but…” He trailed off as one lone tear escaped. This was heading downhill quickly, and he felt small, like a child, as he tried to regain control.
“Oh, darling,” Margaret began, putting her drink down to let her hand rest comfortingly on his knee. “What happened?”
Josh didn’t even know where to begin. And while Margaret was his client and it shouldn’t have been okay to talk to her about this, she was the one who’d started this all for him. And at the moment, he had no one else to turn to. “We’ve been traveling a lot together. He took me to Jamaica and Italy. God, we’ve been together more in the last three months than I see some of my clients in a year. He—uh—lied to everyone. We played make believe for four weeks, basically. And I—” He took a breath, ran his hands through his fluffy hair. “I got attached. Bad. And when I left Italy, I texted him to say thank you and he just…never responded. It’s been over a week and I just thought… It wasn’t even sexual, you know? I was just saying thank you because I work for his company now and—”
The Billionaire and the Escort Page 19
