“I know.” Mac squeezed Russel’s hand, not sure which one of them he was reassuring the most. “But it’s the best way to bring the guy down a peg or two.” He rolled his eyes. “Short of using the recording, I get to blackmail him.”
Russel gasped. “You wouldn’t! Would you?”
“It’s no less than the guy deserves.”
Russel inclined his head. “Maybe. Well, if sending the recording to his daddy doesn’t have any impact, we can consider doing something more unscrupulous with it. Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
“No.”
“No, you’re not sure, or no, you don’t want me to come with you?”
“Both?” Mac chuckled and dragged Russel to him, kissing him before replying. “I’d love you to be there, but then Remy’s going to have to come up with a diversion for you to get me alone. Besides, this way, he’ll think getting me on my knees is a done deal.”
“And then hopefully he’ll talk.”
“Exactly.”
Russel cuddled up against Mac’s chest.
“Are you okay with this?” Mac asked.
“No, not really, but it’s my fault for acting like a dog with a bone.” He tilted his head up to stare Mac in the eyes. “Besides, I know nothing’s actually going to happen between the two of you.”
Mac smiled down at Russel, almost losing himself in those pale blue eyes. “I’m glad you trust me.”
“But of course.” Russel’s brow creased into a slight frown as his phone beeped. “And that’ll be the taxi. You should go.”
Mac kissed him first, not caring that the long, slow kiss would be keeping the taxi driver waiting. He needed to capture the feeling of Russel’s lips against his own, carrying their mutual fervour as a temporary invisible tattoo on his flesh. He breathed in Russel’s scent, which was a mixture of fruity cologne and mint mouthwash. God, he couldn’t get enough of this man.
Russel pulled away and placed a finger to Mac’s lips. “You should go.”
Mac snapped his teeth playfully, not even grazing Russel’s fingertip. “I love you.” They’d both said those words several times since they’d first exclaimed them, as though they were both enjoying how easily they rolled off the tongue.
“Love you too. Now go, before the taxi driver buggers off.” Russel’s words suggested a pushiness that his body language was at odds with as he clung to Mac.
Mac pressed a final kiss to Russel’s forehead, gently pulling away from him so he could grab his coat and go. He took the steps down to the ground floor, not really relieved to find the taxi was still waiting for him. Once he was inside and it had pulled away, his heart started to race. He knew he was in no physical danger with Remy—he could overpower the guy in a heartbeat if he needed to—but the jerk loved to play mind games, and those were what worried him the most. Plus, Mac wasn’t exactly the best liar, let alone the most devious person. Getting Remy to fess up his sordid plans to fuck Mac in return for Russel’s interview felt like something an undercover cop might do in a police procedural TV film. The whole situation was completely surreal.
The drive was over far too quickly. Before getting out of the taxi, Mac switched his phone into recording mode and made sure it was safe in his jacket pocket. As usual, the bloody butler met him at the door and showed him in. He half expected to be taken to the dining room, but instead, he was shown straight upstairs to a room that Mac couldn’t conjure a name for. Who needed a room that was part lounge, part games room? There was a card table and a chess table with a half-played game on it. Comfortable chairs were arranged in a horseshoe configuration around a lit fireplace, which made the room hot and stuffy. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the far wall, but it was too dark outside to see which way the room faced. There were long red velvet curtains, but they hadn’t been closed. Basically, the room looked like it had been lifted straight out of a period drama.
“I must admit, I didn’t expect to hear from you.”
Mac jumped at the sound of Remy’s voice. He turned to see the slender man approaching him from the corridor, wearing a fucking smoking jacket of all things. ‘Surreal’ didn’t do Remy, the situation, or the room justice. Mac would have happily believed that he was on the set of a James Bond movie and that Remy was the villain if he hadn’t known better.
He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. “I’m doing this for Russel.”
“Ah, Russel.” Remy walked into the room, past Mac to sit on one of the chairs by the fire. “Join me?”
Mac did so, though he found himself dragging his feet as he walked across the pristine carpet to sit in the chair beside Remy. He draped his jacket over the arm, hoping his phone was picking up their conversation.
“Is he really why you’re here?”
“Of course.” Mac was desperate to add on something about the interview, but he knew he needed to play it cool. Or at least, he needed to try to play it cool.
Remy delicately crossed his knees. “I suppose I don’t understand what you see in him. He’s so… fake.”
Mac gritted his teeth to hold the words inside that were straining to whip out and lash Remy with some home truths.
“But I guess there’s no accounting for taste.” Remy gestured towards a decanter of whisky. “Would you like a drink?”
Mac didn’t, but he nodded anyway. Remy poured a generous amount into a couple of tumblers and handed one to him.
Nervously, Mac took a sip. His eyes widened as the velvety liquid washed over his tongue and slipped down his throat. “This is nice.”
“Of course. I only accept the best.” Remy drank a swig of his honey-coloured whisky, his cold stare never leaving Mac. “Which is why I want you.” He put the tumbler down and leant forward, stroking his hand over Mac’s knee. “I’m glad you called.”
It took all Mac’s self-control not to shiver and pull away.
“I’m even more glad that you came alone.”
Mac forced himself not to grimace.
“But I suppose you don’t want your little indiscretion to get back to your boyfriend.”
“No.” Mac’s throat felt tight as he forced the simple word out.
Remy sat upright again. “Finish your drink, and we can move somewhere more comfortable.” He retrieved his tumbler and downed the rest of his whisky.
Mac drank more slowly, trying to think about how he could get Remy to spill everything. It would have been far easier if he had been a James Bond villain. They were famous for waxing lyrical while waiting for Bond to die in the most ridiculously contrived way possible. But Remy didn’t have him in an elaborate death trap. Remy wanted to fuck him. The reason why was already known to them both. Why the hell would he repeat it all?
Mac cleared his throat. “I want to talk about why I’m doing this…” Was that too obvious?
Remy rolled his eyes. “No need to worry. I’m a man of my word.”
Mac doubted that. “So if…” He paused and blew a breath out, hoping his delay would prompt Remy to fill in the blanks by finishing his sentence for him.
“Russel will get his interview.”
“In return for…?” Mac tugged at the neck of his T-shirt. He hadn’t bothered to dress up smart for Remy.
“Whatever I want to do to you.” Remy pursed his lips and looked Mac up and down.
Mac swallowed hard. He hated Remy’s predatory stare. Did he have enough to nail the lid of the jerk’s coffin, or did he need the man to be more specific? “Sex,” he said bluntly.
Remy bobbed his head from side to side. “And other things.” He licked his lips.
“What do you get out of this?”
“Aside from fucking you?”
Mac nodded. He felt sick but knew he couldn’t reveal his desire to throw up.
Remy stood and took Mac’s unfinished drink from him. He sat on Mac’s lap, his arms draped over Mac’s shoulders, his hips grinding back and forth over Mac’s cock. Mac was relieved that his dick didn’t respond at all.
“
Power.” Remy kissed Mac’s lips. When Mac didn’t respond, he rammed his tongue past the seal of Mac’s lips and into his mouth.
It was all Mac could do not to gag or throw him off, but the jerk was close to hanging himself with his own words, and Mac knew it would be foolish to stop him now. The probing kiss lasted far too long and did nothing to turn Mac on. Instead, it cemented the notion that he hated Remy with every fibre of his being. Remy pulled back and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. Mac resisted the urge to do the same, to rid himself of the saliva Remy had left behind on his lips. He reminded himself of the kiss he’d shared with Russel before he’d left the flat. That kiss had been both passionate and tender. He could still feel the press of Russel’s lips against his own. That had been a kiss filled with love.
“Men like you always think you have the upper hand,” Remy said, snapping Mac’s attention back to the moment. “You’re big and strong and think it’s easy to push someone like me around.”
Remy clearly had issues, but Mac wasn’t about to let himself wonder about what they were. He didn’t want to be led down a road that would result in him feeling even a shred of pity for the guy. And yet as different as Russel and Remy were, he’d heard his lover say similar things. Had a bigger man pushed Remy too far at some point? Had someone hurt him or betrayed him in a way that left him so bitter he had to rob others of their happiness and self-respect? No. He couldn’t fall down a rabbit hole of wondering. He didn’t want to feel any sympathy for Remy. Whatever the reasons for Remy’s behaviour, it didn’t change the fact that he had chosen to become a predatory arsehole.
“This way, I get to push you around. I get to fuck you. Humiliate you.” Remy clenched Mac’s jaw. “I get to know that I convinced you to betray the man you love. That you chose me over him.”
Mac’s throat became tight. “I’m not choosing you.”
Remy pouted. “Oh, that’s right. You’re letting me fuck you so I’ll give Russel an interview.”
Jackpot. Mac was tempted to throw Remy off his knee, but the smaller man kept talking, and for some reason, Mac felt compelled to listen.
“You keep telling yourself that’s the reason. We both know that you want this. That you want me. And trust me, after I’m through with you, you’ll come back begging for more.”
Mac was absolutely sure he wouldn’t. He was also convinced that Remy had handed him enough rope. He put his hands on Remy’s hips and gently shoved him off his lap. “I think I’ve changed my mind.”
Remy’s eyes narrowed, his lips pinching together into a sour expression. “I’m sorry?”
“You heard me. I’ve changed my mind.” Mac stood and stared at the smaller man. “No interview is worth letting you touch me.” He grabbed his jacket and started to stride towards the door.
“Walk out on me now, and I’ll make sure Russel knows you cheated on him.”
Mac stopped and hunched his shoulders. He didn’t turn round. “Tell him what you want; he knows I wouldn’t do that.”
“Really? It’s why you came here.”
“I came here to get him the interview that you promised him days ago. I see now that you never had any intention of answering any of his questions. That every time you invited us here was simply a rouse to get into my pants. You’re a jerk, Remy, and I’m done playing your games.”
Remy laughed, the sound harsh and piercing like shattering glass. “Oh, don’t try to take the moral high ground, Mac. You came here alone. You knew it was going to end up with me fucking you. You can dress it up however you like, but you were going to sleep with me. That’s cheating. What will poor Russel do when he finds out?”
Even though Mac’s chest was hammering in his chest, he lifted his head. “I’ll take that chance.” He didn’t need to trust that Russel would believe him—although he did. He had the recording that proved nothing had happened between him and Remy. Despite a continued stream of threats and protestations from behind him, he strode out of the room without looking back.
*
Mac felt physically exhausted as he pressed the buzzer for Russel’s flat.
“Hello?”
Hearing Russel’s voice was a welcome relief. “Hey, it’s me.”
“Hmm… I’m not sure I should let you in.” Russel’s voice held a note of teasing to it.
Sighing, Mac rested his arm against the wall, next to the buzzer, and then flopped his head against it. “Let me guess. Remy called you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And he told you I’d slept with him?”
“Oh, he gave me all kinds of gory details.”
“You believe him?” Mac was aware he sounded weary. He wasn’t even sure why he was asking. He could tell from Russel’s playful tone that his question was unnecessary, but it had slipped out anyway, like a manifestation of guilt. Did he have anything to be guilty for? He hoped not. He didn’t have to wait more than a few milliseconds before Russel answered.
“No!” The door buzzed open. “Come on up, babe.”
Mac took the lift, unsure if his shaking legs would carry him all the way up to the top floor. Russel was waiting for him, immediately wrapping his arms around him and guiding him inside to the lounge and onto the sofa.
“Are you okay, babe?”
Mac shrugged. “I guess so.” He pressed his face against Russel’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around him, craving comfort, understanding, and trust. “He kissed me.”
Russel held him tighter.
“I didn’t kiss him back. It didn’t go any further, I promise.”
“I know, babe.”
Mac exhaled slowly, allowing Russel’s belief in him to sink in. “Fuck… Remy is totally unhinged.”
“I kind of gathered that from the way he was gloating on the phone.”
“But you didn’t believe him?” The tightness in Mac’s chest hadn’t eased.
“Babe, you need to stop asking me that. Of course I didn’t believe him. However, I do deserve an Oscar for my performance on the phone.”
Mac lifted his head. “Oh?”
“I cried ugly tears.”
Mac laughed. “Unless it was a video call, I think that would have been lost on Remy.”
Russel rolled his eyes. “He could hear the tears in my voice. I was a total mess. He’ll be convinced our relationship is on the rocks.” He kneaded Mac’s shoulders. “Did he confess everything?”
“Just like a Bond villain.” Mac retrieved his phone from his pocket. “Want to listen?”
Russel shuddered. “Not right now.” He smiled slightly. “First, I want to make sure my big man is okay.”
“I will be. After a bath or a shower. I want to scrub his touch off me.”
Russel arched an eyebrow.
“He was sitting on my lap when he kissed me.” Mac looked down, ashamed of his admission.
Russel placed two fingers beneath Mac’s chin and gently coaxed him to look up. Mac’s stare collided with Russel’s, and he drew in a shuddering breath.
“Can I help you forget about his kiss?” Russel’s pale eyes searched Mac’s as he spoke.
“Please.” Mac swallowed. “Sir.”
Russel placed his hands on either side of Mac’s face and pulled him close for a scorching kiss. Their bodies pressed together, and they writhed against each other, hands roaming everywhere in desperate, sweeping strokes. Mac’s cock, which had been limp with Remy, now stood to attention, straining against his jeans, begging to be let loose. He moaned into Russel’s mouth, whimpering as Russel’s teeth gently bit into his lower lip.
“You’re mine,” Russel whispered.
“Yes, Sir.” Mac was more than happy to be claimed by him. To be owned by him.
Mac allowed himself to be pushed onto the sofa. He didn’t protest when, still kissing him, Russel unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down his zipper.
“What can I do to help you forget?” Russel asked as he tugged Mac’s boxer pants down to free his leaking cock.
“Anything,”
Mac gasped, desperate for the feel of Russel’s lips against his own. Thankfully, the pressure of Remy’s mouth was becoming a distant memory. “I’ll do whatever you want me to.” Because with Russel, it wasn’t about power or humiliation. It was about consensual enjoyment. Everything Russel did was for Mac’s pleasure, as much as his own. Mac adored that about him.
He half sat up to allow Russel to pull his T-shirt off and then flopped back onto the sofa, gasping and moaning as Russel started making his way down his chest. Russel paused to nip, lick, and suck Mac’s nipples, making them hard as pebbles. He kept travelling down, his lips and tongue attentively following the trenches created by Mac’s strong muscles, all the way to his happy trail and then even further.
“Shouldn’t I be the one sucking you off, Sir?” Mac managed to bite out.
Russel chuckled. “Hold that thought for later.” He used the pre-cum from Mac’s slit to moisten his cock and then used hand and mouth to pleasure the bigger man.
Mac’s eyes rolled back, and he relaxed completely, feeling the intense build-up of pressure as Russel’s lips, teeth, tongue, and fist worked some form of magic on his cock. “Oh, God, that’s good.”
The way Russel sucked in response made Mac’s toes curl. He pried his eyes open and stared down at the gorgeous, slim man. There was nothing sexier than seeing Russel’s cheeks hollowed out as he sucked on Mac’s dick. Russel stared up at him, eyebrows raised and a cocky grin on his lips, which were stretched wide around Mac’s cock. He encouraged Mac to raise his hips so he could tug his jeans and boxer pants halfway down his thighs, all without stopping what he was doing with his mouth. Next, Russel walked the fingers of his free hand up Mac’s stomach and chest, stretching his arm until he was able to slip a finger into Mac’s mouth. Mac sucked for all he was worth, making that slender finger deliciously wet, hoping that Russel was going to use it to…
“Oh, fuck!”
Russel popped his finger out of Mac’s mouth, and the next moment he was using it to tease Mac’s arse. Circling, pressing gently, and then pushing inside.
Mac felt like he was going to come completely undone, but he didn’t want the pleasure to end, so he managed to hold his orgasm inside. The effort of doing so robbed him of all thought. He couldn’t do anything except feel what Russel was doing to him and stare at the gorgeous man he was able to call his.
Unbreakable Page 19
