by K. C. Wells
“Trust me, they weren’t embarrassed. They’ve just gone into one of the bedrooms. And before you ask, yes, Martin and Silas know about that.”
Randy chuckled. “Okay. Not so different from high school kids’ parties, I guess, when their parents are away.” What surprised him was that he could deal with it, knowing two guests had left to go fuck each other, with the hosts’ blessing.
Then he noticed something. Now and again a guest would peer into one of several ceramic jars that were positioned around the living room, and smile. Randy had noticed them not long after he’d arrived. Intrigued, he peered into a jar that sat on a shelf near him.
Oh Lord. It contained condoms. And lube.
Okay, that was different. Not to mention convenient and incredibly thoughtful of the hosts. Wherever guests were in the room, protection was at hand.
I guess it really is one of those kind of parties.
The couple’s exit seemed to provide some kind of catalyst. Around him, there was suddenly a lot of kissing going on, and more besides. Touching. Caressing. Then he noticed shirts were being unbuttoned, skin exposed.
It was as if someone had just turned up the heat.
Randy felt a little conspicuous, so he took a seat in a chair by one of the windows, unable to tear his gaze away from what was unfolding before him. Owen was talking in a low voice to a younger man, stroking his face and neck, occasionally leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.
It was fascinating. And definitely arousing.
A new soundtrack emerged above the music, that of soft sighs and low moans, and it took Randy back to the Black Lounge. How many times had he stood in that hallway, listening to similar noises coming from the rooms? How many times had he wanted to know what those guys felt when someone touched them so intimately? To know how much of what he heard was simply an act for the clients or sounds they couldn’t keep inside because it all felt so fucking good?
What was happening before his eyes wasn’t nearly as in-your-face as the kind of acts Randy had witnessed, but it was just as erotic, just as arousing. And Randy couldn’t get enough of it.
Not all the guests were getting down with it. Some were watching, nodding, and discreetly adjusting themselves. I guess some guys just like to watch. Randy ached to do more than be a spectator, but he didn’t dare. He wasn’t that brave.
“Hey.” A handsome man walked over to him, smiling. “What are you doing, all on your own over here? A guy as gorgeous as you shouldn’t be alone.” And before Randy could say a word in response, the guy leaned over and kissed his neck, a lingering kiss that was almost a nuzzle.
Holy fuck. Randy’s dick sat up at that. Randy’s heart, on the other hand, started pounding, and he sprang up out of his chair. “Excuse me,” he croaked before making a dash for the safety of the bathroom. Once inside, he locked the door and leaned on the sink, his hands gripping the cool porcelain. He ran cold water into the bowl, then splashed his face, his breathing erratic. After a moment, he grabbed a towel and dried off.
What the fuck? Randy stared at his pale face in the mirror, trying to analyze his extreme reaction to that one sensual kiss. His stiffening cock made it impossible to deny the truth, however. He dropped onto the closed toilet seat and put his head in his hands. Lord, but that was hot. Randy felt light-headed, hyperaware of the cool temperature in the bathroom, the scent of lavender, the hardness of the seat he sat on….
He closed his eyes and breathed slowly… in… out… in… out….
A gentle tapping on the door made him almost jump out of his skin.
“You okay in there?”
Thank God. It was Owen.
Randy lurched across the room and unbolted the door. He flung it open, grabbed Owen by the arm, yanked him into the bathroom, and locked the door after him. Randy sat back on the toilet, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.
Owen placed his hand on Randy’s shoulder. “I saw what happened. You bolted out of there like you’d been shot.” He rubbed gently. “Breathe, Randy, breathe.”
Randy gazed up at him. “And you bolted in here after me. Thanks.”
Owen smiled. “I had to come see how you are.” He glanced around the bathroom, smirking. “Ordinarily, if I’m in a bathroom with a guy at a party, it’s certainly not to chat with him or check up on him.” He gave Randy a sympathetic glance. “Nerves get the better of you?” Then he grinned. “By the way, I think you made quite an impression on Zac.” When Randy gave him a puzzled glance, Owen grinned. “The guy who kissed you. I think you’re in there.”
Randy glared at him. “You’re not helping.” He drew in a long breath. “Fuck.”
Owen’s manner changed instantly. He crouched beside Randy, his hand on Randy’s knee. “You’re not all right, are you? Take as long as you like.”
Randy gave him a grateful smile. “I’m fine. I just got a bit overwhelmed, that’s all. No offense to Zac, but he’s not my type. But that kiss… wow.” He shivered as he touched his neck where Zac’s lips had been.
Owen nodded. “I can understand that reaction. That’s one of my hot spots. A guy kisses me there and I just… melt.” He chuckled. “So, no point asking if you liked it. That much is obvious.”
What bothered Randy was not the fact that he’d reacted to a stranger’s kiss, but that what had been foremost in his mind at that moment… was Jesse.
“So… do you want to leave, or are you ready to rejoin the party?”
Randy drew in a deep breath. He wasn’t ready to leave just yet. “I think if I left now, I’d regret it.”
Owen beamed at him. “Good man. Let’s get out there and have some fun.”
Randy got to his feet, and after a glance in the mirror, he followed Owen out of the bathroom.
Owen paused at the threshold to the living room. “Remember. If you get uncomfortable, you can leave.”
Randy barely heard his words. Something was going on in there. A group of men were standing around, plainly watching something intently. “What’s happening?” he whispered.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Randy walked across to join them, craning his neck to see what was captivating their attention. Owen came with him. When someone in front of him moved, Randy got a better look—and froze.
On the couch sat one of the guests, bare from the waist down, his pants around his ankles. In front of him was a kneeling figure who was obviously blowing him, his blond head bobbing furiously. Not that Randy could see much of him—his view was obscured by the guy standing behind him, totally naked, fucking him.
Oh…. Fuck.
Randy was spellbound. Watching Rear Guy’s asscheeks jiggle and hollow as he slammed into the Kneeling Guy was… mesmerizing. The way his hands gripped Kneeling Guy’s hips, pulling him roughly back onto his dick. The way Kneeling Guy’s body jolted with each thrust into him. The moans that poured from Blown Guy’s lips. The way he pushed down hard on Kneeling Guy’s head, forcing him to take him deeper. The loud groans of pleasure that rolled out of Kneeling Guy.
And around them stood the guests, some focused on the developing scene, palming their own dicks through their clothing. One couple watched with one guy’s hand down the back of another’s pants, moving slowly, the sound of rapid, uneven breathing filling the room. Most of the guests were still dressed, though some had discarded their shirts and tops.
Randy’s attention was pulled back to the three guys, who were plainly having a fantastic time. His skin was hot and cold at the same time. He was torn between wanting to know what it would be like to have a mouth on his cock, and wanting to be the one plunging his shaft into a tight hole. The situation was so… illicit, and yet he couldn’t tear his gaze away. There was something about the guy on his knees that….
“Do you want to take a turn?” a voice murmured in his ear.
Randy jerked his head to stare at Martin, standing beside him. “What?”
Martin nodded toward the men. “That’s what he’s here for.”
&n
bsp; Randy was no clearer. “What are you talking about?” he whispered.
“The guy on the floor. That’s what we’re paying him for, so anyone can have a go.”
“Paying him?” Ice crawled around Randy’s heart. Owen was staring at him, shaking his head, and when Randy met his gaze, he mouthed, I had no idea. Judging by Owen’s panicked expression, the same thought had to be racing through his mind too.
Holy fucking hell, this is really bad. They had to get out of there.
Randy stepped away from the onlookers, Owen and Martin joining him. “You mean to say,” Randy began, speaking slowly and quietly, “that you and Silas are paying this guy to have sex with any or all of your guests?”
Before Martin could reply, Owen grabbed hold of Randy’s arm. “Look, we gotta go, right fucking now! My license and your badge are on the line as of this moment!” His usual composure had fled.
Martin paled. “Oh shit. Owen, I wasn’t thinking. God, I am so sorry.” Then he gaped at Randy and stilled. “Badge? Are you a cop?”
Randy nodded. “Yeah, so you can see why I might have a problem with this.” He glanced around as several more shirts were removed. This was beginning to have all the characteristics of an epic clusterfuck.
Martin took a deep breath. “What are you going to do?”
There was the million-dollar question.
Randy struggled to keep calm. “What you really want to know is, am I gonna arrest you?” It was what he should do.
All around the room were men enjoying themselves, supplied with condoms and lube in case the mood took them. And hadn’t he been enjoying it just as much? Almost as much as the three guys who were fucking.
Randy breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to get his heart to stop hammering. “I’m going to leave now. I’m gonna pretend I didn’t see any of this.” At least that way, he didn’t have to act on any of it. Randy caught Owen’s gaze. “And you’re leaving too.”
Owen nodded vigorously.
Martin swallowed. “Thank you. Seriously. It was only meant to be a little entertainment, but—”
“Just don’t say another word, all right?” Randy scanned the room for the chair where he’d left his jacket. He grabbed it and headed toward the door, his pulse racing. Owen followed him, leaving Martin with the guests.
“Look, I’m so sorry about this,” Owen said as he unlocked the front door.
“Wait.” Randy’s heartbeat sped up. “Something’s wrong here.” That blond guy….
He went back to the living room doorway and stared at the crowd, which was shifting, murmuring, as if something was about to happen. Then he caught sight of a familiar face, and his blood turned to ice.
“Aw fuck.”
Jesse was looking right at Randy, his eyes impossibly large, his mouth open, and white as a sheet.
Chapter Fourteen
RANDY COULDN’T stay in that room a moment longer. He pushed past Owen, opened the door, and got the hell out of that apartment.
“Wait!” Owen caught up with him. “Christ, you didn’t have to run.”
Randy came to a halt at the elevator. “Why? Did you want to stick around?” He was still shaking. Of all people, why did it have to be Jesse?
Owen scowled. “Of course not. God, what a mess.” He peered at Randy, his gaze narrowing. “What’s wrong?” he asked urgently.
Randy was trying his best to breathe, but the tightness around his chest made things difficult. “You’re kidding, right?” He glanced back to the apartment, as if he half expected Jesse to come running after them. Except, why would he? Jesse was getting paid to do a job, right?
“I’m not talking about the fact that both of us could lose our jobs over this and probably never find work again.” Owen took a deep breath. “And that’s not understating the case, as I’m sure you know. I’m talking about what happened when you glanced into that room. And don’t shit me, because you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” The elevator arrived, and they stepped inside. Owen pressed the button, then leaned against the steel wall. “Well?”
Randy shuddered out a long breath. “That guy in there? The entertainment? That was Jesse.”
Owen’s jaw dropped. “You are fucking kidding me. Your Jesse? The one you—”
The elevator came to a halt, and as soon as the doors opened, Randy was out of there, striding through the lobby and spilling out of the building onto Central Park West. He stared into the oncoming traffic, scanning for a taxi, his stomach churning.
Owen caught up with him. “Can we talk about this?”
Randy gaped at him. “What the fuck is there to talk about?” He spied a taxi and hailed it. When it pulled up beside them, Randy got in, then stared at Owen. “Are you getting in or what?”
Owen got in beside him and rattled off the address.
Randy sank back against the seat, his head still spinning. This is such a fucking mess.
Owen twisted in his seat to look at him, and Randy shook his head. “We’re not gonna talk about this. Not here. You got that?”
Owen said nothing, but nodded, then turned to stare through the window.
That left Randy with his thoughts, all racing through his head at breakneck speed.
Oh Christ. That was fucking close. The only saving grace about this whole sorry mess was that the guy they hired turned out to be Jesse. Because supposing it hadn’t been? Supposing some time later, Randy ended up arresting the guy in a sting? Hooker takes one look at me and it’s game over. At the least, he’d be outed at work. At worst? The hooker could’ve blackmailed him for fucking years, and all because of one lousy, goddamn party.
Never mind what Owen said about pushing boundaries and stepping out of comfort zones. Randy could admit to being curious, but he plainly wasn’t ready to address that yet. What did it matter if he had feelings for Jesse if he was too fucking afraid to confront them? But what overrode those emotions was anger.
And Randy was fucking livid.
How the fuck could Jesse lie to me? Okay, so not once had Randy actually come right out and asked Jesse if he was soliciting, but that was just a technicality. All those times Jesse had talked about job interviews, waiting tables, pizza parlors… nothing but lies. And like a sap, Randy had believed him. All that time, he was selling his ass, all the while knowing what Randy did for a living, knowing Randy was a Vice cop. Was he laughing at me? Was that it? Was it fun to pull the wool over my eyes?
Randy clenched his fists. He didn’t know for sure that the job interviews had been lies. And if he was going to lay the blame at anyone’s door, he’d better start with himself, for going to that party in the first place. I should have followed my instincts. I should have told Owen no, flat-out.
And there was yet another focus for his anger. This was all down to Owen. Randy glared at the side view of Owen, who was still looking at the passing scenery, unaware of Randy’s scrutiny. He put me in that position.
Except Randy knew he was to blame most of all, because what angered him more than anything was that he’d been turned on by the whole episode. From the boner when that guy kissed him, to standing there, watching them fucking and wishing it was him in there, him with his mouth around that guy’s dick, him with that guy’s cock spearing into him.
Christ, he’d wanted that so fucking much, but not half as much as he’d wanted Jesse.
Right up to the point when he’d looked across that room and seen Jesse’s face staring back at him.
He pulled out his phone, then stared at it. What am I gonna do—send Jesse a text to ask him what the fuck he was thinking? Like he could do that. Because that would mean further contact, and right then Randy was between a rock and hard place. How could he face Jesse after this? When Randy spent his days trying to deter guys from paying people like Jesse? When what I really should be doing is arresting him?
Randy forced himself to breathe. This is such a mess.
And he didn’t know how to get out of it.
He was go
ing to go home, shut out the world, and try to forget any of it had ever happened.
Yeah, right.
“Randy. Randy!”
With a start, he realized Owen was talking to him. Then he saw they were home. Owen paid the driver, and they got out of the taxi. Randy didn’t wait around. He got inside and almost ran up the flights of stairs, with Owen close on his heels. When they got to the fourth floor, Randy turned to face him.
“Before you say another word, no, I do not want to discuss this. I wanna forget this whole sorry episode, and if you know what’s good for you, you won’t bring it up again.”
“Randy, please.” Owen appeared stricken. “Running away isn’t going to solve anything.”
Randy snorted. “Well, it works for me.” And with that, he unlocked his front door, went inside, and slammed it shut behind him. Inside, he leaned against it, his shivers multiplying until he was quivering all over, his stomach tight.
Oh, Jesse, why? Why couldn’t you tell me the truth?
JESSE STARED after Randy, his heart sinking, his breathing erratic. Oh God. Of all the people….
“Hey, you all right?” The guy on whose dick he was about to sit placed a warm hand on his waist.
All right? Jesse was in absolute fucking turmoil.
Is he going to arrest me? Why was he here? Was he on duty? Was he here on his own? How come I didn’t see him when I came in? He wanted to grab his clothes and get the hell out of there, run after Randy, but he had a job to do, one for which Martin and Silas were paying him handsomely.
“I’m fine,” Jesse murmured. He waited until the guy had gloved up, then slowly lowered himself onto his fat cock, ensuring he made all the right noises, moaning about how it filled him. Then the other guy was on him, aiming his dick at Jesse’s already stuffed hole. Jesse tried to relax, waiting for the pinch he knew was coming, and finally he was there, as full as could be. He let the bottom guy take his weight, let the two men cradle him between them while they worked out who was moving and when, and shut himself down, retreating inwardly to fathom out this whole mess.
