by Jayne Rylon
Middleman
Jayne Rylon
Happy Endings Publishing
Copyright © 2017 by Jayne Rylon
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means—including email, file-sharing groups, and peer-to-peer programs—without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
If you have purchased a copy of this ebook, thank you. I greatly appreciate knowing you would never illegally share your copy of this book. This is the polite way of me saying don’t be a thieving asshole, please and thank you!
If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Refer to the don’t-be-a-thieving-asshole section above for clarification. :)
Cover Art by Jayne Rylon
Editing by Mackenzie Walton
eBook & Print Formatting by Jayne Rylon
Version 6
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-941785-76-8
Print ISBN: 978-1-941785-77-5
Contents
About The Book
1. Cortez
2. Kaden
3. Rogan
4. Rogan
5. Kaden
6. Cortez
7. Rogan
8. Kaden
9. Rogan
10. Rogan
11. Kaden
12. Rogan
13. Kaden
14. Rogan
15. Rogan
16. Kaden
17. Kaden
18. Cortez
19. Kaden
20. Kaden
21. Kaden
22. Cortez
23. Kaden
24. Kaden
25. Kaden
26. Cortez
27. Kaden
28. Kaden
29. Rogan
30. Kaden
31. Rogan
32. Kaden
33. Kaden
34. Cortez
35. Rogan
36. Kaden
37. Kaden
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About the Author
Also by Jayne Rylon
A standalone novel from NYT and USA Today bestselling author Jayne Rylon.
I don’t kneel for any man. Not anymore.
I had the perfect dominant boyfriend. Then Cortez left me to save the world.
After two and a half years lost drowning my misery in bad decisions, one man changed everything.
Rogan is the perfect submissive, who puts me back in control of both him and my life.
Until Cortez comes home.
Who am I? Cortez’s bottom or Rogan’s top?
Maybe I’m both.
Maybe I was made to be their middleman.
Additional Information
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A complete list of Jayne’s books can be found at www.jaynerylon.com/books
1
Cortez
Have you ever known you were about to wreck the person you loved most?
I scan the letter clutched in my shaking hands for about the millionth time before crumpling it and stuffing it into my pocket. The shit-ton of sexercise I’ve been getting lately has burned calories like the end-of-summer bonfire I won’t be taking my boyfriend to after all. Dread killed my appetite. It’s tough to eat when you’re constantly worried about an inevitable summons cutting short the steamiest affair of your life.
So when I jam that confirmation of our relationship’s expiration date into my pocket, my fury nearly leaves me bare assed. With a twitch of my fingers, I tug my belt loops and hitch up my too-loose cargo pants until they’re precariously perched on my hipbones again.
My boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind my fashion faux-pas. He knows better than to offer me a belt, which I would find plenty of other wicked uses for. Besides, then he couldn’t stare at the spot where my defined muscles disappear beneath that waistband.
You see, Kaden’s an artist. One hell of a painter, who rationalizes his inappropriate gawking at sexy men as a study of the human form for his work.
If the circumstances were different, I might get off on the appreciative scan he’ll no doubt give me once he finishes tinkering in his studio downstairs and comes to bed.
Tonight I’ll be too guilty to enjoy his lusty appreciation.
What once would have been my dream come true is about to become his—no, our—worst nightmare.
I’m going to leave him.
Not because I want to. Because I have to. I doubt he’ll give a shit about semantics, though. My dick doesn’t either. It’s mad as hell that this will be the last night it gets to sink into Kaden Finch’s tight ass while I ride his smoking hot, compact-yet-powerful body.
Everything I’ve trained for has led me to this next level in my career. The idea of this opportunity used to excite me as if it’s a promotion or some shit. No, it’s an obligation. A duty to our country that I’ve sworn to undertake. I can’t back out now. No matter how badly I’m starting to wish I could. It sucks donkey dick that to continue to call myself a man of honor, I have to do something that feels so wrong.
I never made Kaden any promises or accepted the ones I could see swimming in his adoring gaze. Fuck, how I wish I could. What the hell did I do to myself?
Falling for a guy I had no chance of keeping… Stupid. With a capital fucking S.
Worse, what will I do to him when I let go?
Maybe it’s my pride talking, but I think I’m about to cause some carnage. The best I can hope for is that Kaden will hate me for my betrayal. That he forgets me quickly and moves on with his life. He has so much to offer a partner, it would be a waste otherwise.
My fingers curl into a fist at the thought of some other lucky bastard topping Kaden, who’s my idea of the perfect submissive. Until I sigh and force myself to relax. I should be grateful to his future lovers for picking up the pieces I’m about to leave scattered on the ground behind me.
God knows there will be a line from here to our favorite club, Romeo & Julian, once guys realize he’s back on the market. I’ve enjoyed watching men drool over him, knowing that for a little while he was mine.
Selfish fucker that I am, I don’t bother putting on a shirt when I hear his springy footsteps echoing off the metal slats of the spiral staircase that leads to this loft above his studio and gallery. There’s no use in pretending. It’s only going to get peeled off again momentarily.
It’s impossible for me to leave without saying a proper goodbye. Besides, if anything will turn him from friend to enemy, it will be this. Using him, then walking away as if his surrender means nothing to me. As if it isn’t the best gift I’ve ever been given. Like every birthday, Christmas, and my personal favorite holiday—BJ and steak day—all rolled into one.
Committed to my lame-ass plan, I don’t dissuade him from automatically sinking to his knees before me after he strolls into the bedroom we’ve shared during the past couple months of sultry nights.
I never meant to stay this long. To get attached.
Kaden has destroyed every last bit of my better sense. His onslaught began with a volley of coy yet naughty grins. He shot them at me one-by-one like flaming arrows for weeks whenever our paths would cross at the bar. Once I
caved and bought him a beer or three, I became addicted to the wicked smile and dimples that appeared as he shared one of his wild stories.
They told me how committed he was to enjoying every moment of life. That ability to make each day the best day ever and find something to smile about—even when life tried to feed you a shit sandwich—was a skill that had been snuffed out in me by immense responsibility before I’d met him.
After years of existing in a quasi-military environment, I envied his creativity, freedom, and spontaneity. It appealed to the parts of me that felt stifled by my intelligence career. He had flown beneath my radar and taken my libido hostage. From there he’d seized my heart before I could formulate a strategy to keep him safely relegated to the friends-with-benefits zone.
Not especially savvy for a guy who was supposed to be impervious to espionage.
But how could I resist someone like Kaden?
Sure, he’s toned and so damn fuckable it twists my balls up to look at him. He’s also fierce, determined, and relentless when he has his eyes on the prize.
And by prize I mean my cock.
Except now we’re both going to pay the price for indulging in ecstasy so often and so thoroughly. I’ll never come so hard again in my lifetime. No one will ever satisfy me as well as he has. Only now I’ll know what I’m missing.
This.
A gorgeous boy dropping to his knees between my feet, sharing my desires and fulfilling them because they’re his as much as they’re my own.
Kaden nuzzles my inner thigh with his cheek as he breathes deep, inhaling my scent. I wonder how long it will linger on his sheets before that last trace of me evaporates from his world.
He brings my passion alive as easily as he transforms a random assortment of colorful brush strokes into hyper-realistic depictions of objects or people I swear I could reach out and touch. The man is incredibly gifted. He sees the world in a way I never imagined before I met him.
“I missed you,” he whispers.
He couldn’t make me feel more like a champion and a steaming pile of dog shit simultaneously if he tried. Maybe I can show him, one last time, how vibrant our attraction is. If I fuck him well enough, there’s a possibility he’ll eventually remember me with something other than hate in his heart. After the initial wounds scar over and the sting of my desertion has faded, maybe he’ll understand that this was real. As stunning as one of his masterpieces.
“Same goes.” I fist my hand in his unruly chestnut hair, which is speckled with a rainbow of oil paints, and tilt his face toward mine so he can read the truth in my eyes. Deny this, I dare you. “Always does when you’re not around. Always will when I’m away.”
Shit, shit, shit. I don’t mean to give him false hope. Or telegraph my exit.
It’s harder than I thought to do this to him. To us.
His clever fingers distract me from my downward-spiraling emotions. They meander from my knee up my thigh toward my growing hard-on. Even the sickness roiling in my gut can’t keep my cock from responding to him.
I don’t dare take my eyes off him, not even long enough to blink, when he licks his lips then unfastens the button of my jeans. At times like this it’s hard for me to consider myself the one holding the power here. It’s obvious to me that he has it all.
He slides the zipper down carefully enough to avoid an injury that would put a premature end to our fun yet fast enough to prove he’s as desperate as I am for what’s about to come.
Greedy, he plunges his hand inside my pants.
I can’t tell who moans louder when his fingers curl around my length and pump me a few times, as though I need any help stiffening up for him.
My jeans hit the floor, giving him better access to my crotch. He doesn’t waste any time before his mouth is on me. His parted lips connect with my balls, allowing his humid breath to wash over them. His eyes are wide and so damn persuasive as they peer up at me, silently requesting permission.
“Go ahead.” I put my finger below his chin and lift slightly. “Suck me.”
He does. So well that I nearly forget my mission. That’s become a habit around Kaden. It’s probably for the best I’m being ordered to leave before I lose myself to him completely.
An entire season of owning him and I’m nearly ready to rip the damn paper in my pocket to shreds. What would I do with myself if I didn’t go through with my assignment? Could I live with shattering my promises to the organization that saved me, taking me in when I had nowhere to go? How could I ignore the debt I have to pay? How could I support my boyfriend without a job? Despite his rising success in the art world, freeloading isn’t my style.
The fact that I’m even considering those options proved how far I’ve drifted from the man I was proud to be. The one who would never shirk his responsibilities, or fail to repay a debt. Especially an obligation this monumental.
How will I stand myself knowing I’ve turned my back on Kaden and the faith he’s placed in me by being so open and giving? Don’t I owe him too?
Either way, I’m screwed. And so is he.
Except he doesn’t have a choice in the matter and he’s oblivious to the dead end we’re rushing toward.
My cock wavers the slightest bit at that thought. Kaden’s right there, sucking harder, deeper. Flicking his tongue in precisely the right place along the underside of my shaft to keep me racing toward our invisible finish line. He distracts me from the confusing shit that has me riled up, channeling my energy into the best outlet I’ve found since my organization trained me to be one of its deadliest weapons.
My voice is coarse when I bark, “Get me good and wet. I’m not going to take it easy on that ass tonight. You’re getting all of me.”
If he only knew how much of me he already had.
He grunts and applies himself. Or the thought of the fucking he’s about to get turns him on enough to have him swallowing me down as if I’m a slice of blueberry pie—his favorite dessert. No matter the reason for Kaden’s fervor, I’m not about to complain.
When he sinks all the way onto my shaft, I grip the back of his head and hold him in place, reveling in the flex of his throat around my shaft. Only when he chokes do I haul him off my length, grinning at the twitch of his hips that proves he’s enjoyed my display of control as much as I have.
“You ready for me?” I ask.
“Have been the whole damn day,” he grumbles with an endearing pout. “If I didn’t have a deadline for that portrait, I’d have hunted you down at lunch. And again for an afternoon quickie. Or three. Fuck, I’ve never been this horny. My dick is sore from being hard so much. At least you’re here now to take care of me.”
Ouch. Direct hit.
“I doubt I have anything to do with that. You’re sexy as fuck and you know it. You were made to be tied to a bed and fucked endlessly.”
“Yes, please.” He kills me when he bites his lower lip and peeks up at me through his heavy-lidded eyes and a veil of thick lashes.
“Clothes off. Now.” My commands are short because I can barely talk when I need him this intensely. He hurries, swiping his tattered jeans and paint-stained tank top from his luscious body, revealing the ink embedded in his skin. Everything about him is colorful and unable to be constrained by lines.
Before he’s entirely free of the fabric, I grab him, wrapping my arms around his middle. Then I fling him toward the bed. I don’t have to be delicate with Kaden. He’s tough. He can handle my hunger. In fact, he’s confessed how much he loves to be treated roughly. It’s another way I acknowledge his strength. I hope he gets that.
Kaden groans as the edge of the mattress hits him in the gut. He braces his hands on the bed and automatically shifts his feet until he assumes a wide stance. He drops his head onto his folded wrists, leaving himself exposed to accept my advances. He’s perfect.
I’m not afraid to show him I think so either.
I grab his ass cheeks, one in each of my palms, then spread him open. His cock and balls hang heavy
and thick with arousal even as his hole clenches in anticipation. Rather than plunging inside him immediately, I do something I’ve never tried before. Something he’s confided that he fantasizes about.
At least I can give him this before I break his heart.
Without hesitation, I bend forward and bury my face between his cheeks, lapping at him and swirling my tongue around his puckered hole. Probing it and grunting in chorus with each of his wild moans.
“Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Cortez!” he shouts over and over as I treat him to a tongue-bath. From his ass to his balls and back, I pause only to suck and nip that really sensitive spot in between. I channel him and recreate the fantastic sessions we’ve had where he treats me to the same blinding pleasure.
I eat him until his thighs are quivering in my hands, which brace and steady him. Then I do it even more. Eventually he breaks. “Fuck me. I need your cock.”
I pull back far enough to slap his ass, which is no punishment at all for Kaden, who enjoys being over my knee on occasion. “That doesn’t sound like begging to me, boy.”
“Please. Please, Cortez. I need it. Fucking need you. Please.”
“That’s better.” And pretty much guarantees he’ll despise me for making him admit it when I go. I reach over to the nightstand to snag a condom and the mostly empty bottle of lube stashed there. With a few quick jerks, I’ve sheathed myself and slathered my shaft in the gel. I’m thankful for the resulting coolness and the control it helps me regain.
