Evan
Page 10
“That doesn’t give me enough time to—”
“Angela.”
She silenced her protests. “Yes, Mr. Duke.”
Dropping the phone into his pocket, he then grabbed a ball cap off a nearby rack before stepping into the elevator. As much as he wanted to announce to the world his attraction to a certain blue-eyed man waiting for him upstairs, he couldn’t risk his position with Duke Enterprises. The cap kept his expressions hidden. He hoped.
The doors opened and he stepped out, careful to keep the cap low as he searched the bar. Maybe the man decided having drinks with the boss boss broke some sort of moral code. He definitely had an issue with kissing the boss boss. Clint chuckled as he glanced around, fighting the nagging voice in the back of his head telling him Evan found a way to sneak out without being scene. He frowned as disappointment slammed into his chest when he still didn’t see him.
And then he did, and Clint’s entire world got a little brighter.
He held his head down as he hurried over next to Evan, twisted on the stool, and faced the bar.
“What are you doing?”
It was a huge risk scheming like this, but it was the only way for them to be seen together without raising any suspicion. Hiring Evan to be his personal assistant would fool most of the hounds starving for the latest scoop on Clint Duke, playboy billionaire. Eventually, when the attraction between the two grew to something they’d no longer be able to hide—and it would, Clint would bet his entire fortune on that fact—they’d have to come clean.
Until then, he’d keep his head down. “My appearance tends to cause a ruckus, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Evan glanced around, a simple curve of his sexy-as-hell lips driving Clint wild. “No one uses that word anymore. Besides, the more you act like a convict, the more attention you draw to yourself.”
“That’s sort of the idea.”
“I’m not following.”
“Have you noticed the number of customers on the floor and drinkers in the bar since it came out that I bought Kelley’s? It’s more than doubled.”
He took a second glance and nodded. “Looks that way. Congratulations. Your popularity has drawn quite the crowd. Now to get them to actually buy something.”
“They aren’t here to buy anything. They’re here to snap pictures and sell them to tabloids.”
“You’re being paranoid.” Even as he said that, he placed his back to the crowd. “I ordered for us.”
The bartender set a glass of white wine in front of Evan and a second in front of Clint. “Enjoy.”
“How’d you know I’d like wine?”
“I may have read it somewhere.” He shrugged and grinned that boyish grin that made Clint’s mouth water to steal a kiss. “Besides, you poured us white last night,” he added under his breath.
Clint flashed him a smile. At least this one felt genuine, not like the ones he’d practiced in front of the mirror and had perfected in front of the cameras. He lifted his glass and nodded at Evan as he sipped at the crisp, fruity liquid. He licked his lips and lowered the glass to the bar before realizing that Evan had been studying him. He licked his lips again.
Evan licked his in return. Clint wanted to lick them, too.
“Mr. Duke?” A man interrupted, a camera at the ready. “Would you mind if I took a picture of you with my wife? She just loves you.”
Clint shot Evan an I told you so look before straightening up from the bar. “I would never turn down a chance to be in front of a camera.”
He put his arm around the gorgeous Mrs. while pudgy Mr. took the picture. “We’re here from Florida,” the Mr. explained.
“Visiting our only daughter,” the Mrs. added.
“We’re thinking of moving up here to be closer. Right, dear?”
The Mrs. stared at Clint and batted her false lashes. When she didn’t answer, Clint grinned and nodded at the man. “I believe he’s talking to you.”
“Who?” she purred.
“Right, dear?” the Mr. asked again with more urgency.
“Oh, right.” She went right back to staring.
It was all bullshit, of course. Clint recognized the man. He worked freelance for several of the tabloids. And the woman posing as his wife looked like a Victoria’s Secret model and not the wife of a man who could stand to lose some weight and take a few classes in hygiene.
He let the fat man take several more pictures, less-than-thrilled these would be gracing the front page of next week’s Insider Confidential. A year ago, the story would have ended up as tomorrow night’s headliner on the TV version of the tabloid. Wanda Graves had brought the sleazy show to Seattle, but since she was now in prison for multiple counts of murder for trying to kill off the competition—literally—her media mogul of a father smartly decided to shut down production and stick to print.
“Mr. Duke, I just love you.” The Mrs. pressed her breasts against Clint as she leaned in, not-so-secretly blowing in his ear before whispering loud enough for those around them to hear, “I’ll love every inch of you.”
Shocker. She probably had a body mic hidden somewhere in what little she had covered. Clint caught Evan’s eyes and widened his in return. Help me.
Evan jumped off his stool and hurried over. “Mr. Duke, I’m sorry to interrupt, but you have that meeting we need to prep for.”
“What meeting?”
“About the arrangement. We still have several pages to cover in the contract before tomorrow.”
“Oh, right. That meeting.” Knowing Evan was open to negotiations had him anxious to leave. He’d have to have Angela rush the paperwork and planned to make the call as soon as they were in private. He just needed a few more minutes in public, the paparazzi snapping pictures of him and Evan together at work. Now if anyone got a shot of them together, it’d just be an extension of work. No tabloid would buy the photo. He hoped.
“If you’ll excuse us.” Evan stared down the freelancer when the man took a breath, no doubt to ask for more detail to add to his story. When he didn’t get that, he snapped his mouth shut, as well as his tablet closed. “Mr. Duke was nice enough to allow you a few photographs. Now, please. Let the man have a little peace.”
“My assistant.” Clint gestured to Evan. “He keeps me in line.”
The flashes of several cameras erupted into a lightning storm. Perfect.
“And on time,” Evan added and pushed at Clint’s back, leading him out of the bar. “Let’s go.” He wasn’t gentle as he pushed him to the elevator. The doors opened and they stepped inside. Only after the doors closed and the flashes ceased did he sigh. He took a breath to speak, but Clint had something else in mind for his mouth.
He trapped Evan against the wall and grabbed each wrist, placing them both in one hand and holding them high above his head. This was stupid. They were being recorded by the elevator cameras. None of that stopped him as he clasped Evan’s chin with the other hand, holding him perfectly in place. He then lowered his lips, slanting them over his mouth.
Dear God, did this man taste good. Intoxicating. The longer he explored the recesses of Evan’s mouth, the more drunk he got off him. If they didn’t get back to Clint’s penthouse soon, he’d break another rule right here in the elevator. It’d break a few laws, too.
The bell dinged, announcing they were on the parking garage floor. Clint swung back around and easily stepped out when the doors opened, leaving Evan panting, his cheeks flushed, as he used the wall to keep himself upright.
Several seconds passed before he pushed away from the wall and stepped out. “What happened to the no touching rule?”
Clint grinned and licked his lips. “You’re lucky my mouth was all I touched you with.”
“Says you.”
That comment stopped him in his tracks. He wanted to take the man’s hand but couldn’t guarantee there wasn’t some freelancer hiding behind a pillar waiting for that shot. Instead, he spotted Evan’s car and walked toward it, stopping at the tiny sports c
ar. “We’re going to need to get you a more appropriate ride.”
“What’s wrong with my car?” He dropped his jaw. “I love my car.”
“You need something bigger, something safer.”
“I’m not getting rid of my car.” He remotely unlocked the doors and climbed inside.
Reluctantly, Clint folded in. At least the seat was all the way back as he’d left it. Even then, he barely fit. “I never said you had to get rid of it. You’ll drive something more acceptable, something I approve of. Something more than a coffin on wheels.”
“And if I don’t?”
Clint looked at him. “Our arrangement is over before it starts.” He stared straight ahead. “I won’t tolerate refusal of my requests.”
“Do you seriously think you have the right to make demands like that?”
“Yes.” He looked at him once again. “I do.”
Evan colored hard and squealed the tires as he peeled out of the parking garage. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You ain’t seen nothing, yet.”
9
Evan pulled into the same spot he’d parked in last night. He hadn’t said more than a few words to Clint since they left Kelley’s. Not that the man would notice. He kept his attention on his phone more than on Evan.
Which was a good thing. Evan was still too shocked and angry to make sense of the demands Clint thought he had the right to place on him. Well, he had no right. Yet. But hell, as soon as they stepped inside the penthouse and went through the agreement, there’d be no turning back.
Not that he wanted to.
He kept a careful distance as they rode the elevator up. He still hadn’t recovered from the last time they were in an elevator. Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on the point of view—Clint stayed to his side and was the first to exit once they reached the top floor.
As soon as Evan stepped out, Clint used his hips to press him against the wall. He trapped him between his enormous arms as he held him captive with his dark, hungry gaze. “W-what are you doing?”
“At least I lasted past the elevator ride this time.” He lowered his head and nipped at Evan’s lower lip.
“What about your no touching rule?” He thrust out his chin to give Clint better access to his mouth. When Clint released a shuddering breath, tickling Evan’s face, he closed his eyes to try and make sense of the feelings pulsing inside of him.
“Would you like me to stop?” Clint ran the tip of his tongue along Evan’s lower lip. When Evan darted his out to meet it, Clint moaned and licked at him.
“No,” Evan whispered.
Clint ran his beautiful nose along Evan’s jaw. “Why do you make me want to break all my rules?”
“Which one do you want to break right now?”
“Every last one.”
Evan snapped his gaze to Clint’s and swallowed. If they started with a kiss, it wouldn’t end there, and they both knew it. He grabbed Clint’s neck and stabbed his tongue between his lips. Clint pulled Evan to him and growled deep and hard in the back of his throat as he kissed him with equal fervor. He shoved his knee between Evan’s legs and rubbed it up against his balls. Evan moaned and rocked his hips to gain more friction.
When Clint unfastened Evan’s trousers, reaching under the elastic band of his boxers and fisting his engorged cock, they both moaned in unison. Clint trailed kisses along Evan’s jaw and squeezed his hand, pulling another moan from Evan.
“You drive me crazy, Evan McKoy. You know that?”
Evan pumped his hips, stroking his hard cock in Clint’s hand. “I’m starting to get that impression.”
Clint found Evan’s lips again, stabbing his tongue in rhythm to the movement of his hand. Dear God, he was going to come if Clint kept this up. Evan pulled back from Clint’s lips. “Wait. What about you?”
“Tonight is yours. I want you to let yourself go and just feel. Do that for me.” Clint bit at Evan’s lower lip and stroked him.
Evan began to pant as Clint increased his pace. He rocked his hips in time to Clint’s thrusts. “Oh, Clint. You’re going to make me come.”
“Not without my permission. Tell me when you’re close.”
Evan moved faster, rocking his hips as Clint stroked harder. His orgasm bubbled in his balls and twisted as it tightened his muscles. “So close. I’m so close, Clint.”
“Call my name as you come.”
“Oh, yes. Just like that. Stroke me just like that. Oh, Clint. Clint!” Evan stiffened as his orgasm swallowed him. Clint’s hand caught the thick streams of semen that jetted out. Evan continued to rock his hips as the waves crashed over and over. Clint milked Evan’s cock dry and devoured his lips, exploring the recesses of his mouth with his tongue.
Only after the last of his climax ebbed did Evan slump against the wall and release a shaky breath. “Wow.”
Clint licked his finger and grinned. “Delicious, just as I knew it would be. My God, Evan. You are gorgeous when you let yourself go, you know that?”
Evan righted his clothes. “I can honestly say that no one has ever said that to me before.”
Clint’s grin widened as he turned to enter the penthouse. Jesus, they didn’t even make it all the way inside. Thank God no one else had access to this floor. He washed his hands and dried them on a towel. “Let’s do this.”
“Do what?” Dumb question, judging by that rock between Clint’s legs. He couldn’t wait to do that.
“There’s wine in the cooler. Pour us each an ample share and join me in the dining room.” He kept a steady pace to the other side of the penthouse, discarding his suit coat to the back of the leather couch and tossing his tie aside a few feet away. He disappeared around a corner, leaving Evan standing in the foyer, confused and annoyed.
He debated turning around and having the elevator return him to the parking garage. He’d be halfway to his apartment by the time Clint realized he was gone. He dismissed the idea and hurried into the kitchen, muttering under his breath about taking orders.
A glass of wine in each hand, Evan took the same path Clint had moments ago. It wasn’t hard to find the man. He’d left a trail of clothing to mark the way. Rounding the corner, he slowed and quickly took in the room. It was sparsely lit, with modern yet muted art on the walls and a large rectangle table taking up most of the space. Clint sat at the head of one side, so Evan approached. “Your wine.”
“Thank you. Please sit.” Clint didn’t look up from the stack of papers in front of him. He slid a matching stack to Evan. “We have a lot to get through. It may take several hours.”
Hours? Just what kind of arrangement did Clint have in mind? Suddenly annoyed with the man who brought Evan to orgasm less than five minutes ago, he chose the opposite end of the table and took a seat. Clint was so far away he had to squint to see him in this light. The man had a hard look as he scanned the papers, flipping through them as he searched for something that clearly wasn’t there.
He couldn’t stand the silence and asked, “Is something wrong?”
Finally, Clint pulled his attention from the papers, yet still wouldn’t look at Evan. “This isn’t right.”
“What isn’t right?”
He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets as he stepped away from the table, finding interest in one of the paintings. Evan dropped his gaze to the papers and thumbed through them, stopping on a few words that caught his attention. Dominant. Submissive. Consensual. Obedient. Punishment. The fact he had the right to veto any command intrigued him. None of that sounded too bad.
Then he flipped to page two and hit the duties of the Master. Ownership? Training? Intentional abuse? All of those were a hard pass. And the slave had to what? “Why would I have to live here with you?”
“Evan,” Clint started softly.
When he read the section on financial support, he had to read it twice. Clint wanted him to quit his job? Be solely reliant on him? Be paid an allowance? What decade—what century—was this contract written in?
“Evan,” he said a little louder.
Evan jumped to his feet and backed away from the table, shock and fear battling for dominance. The money part pissed him off. No way would Evan quit his job. He loved what he did. The part where Clint had the right to do whatever he wanted to Evan without his say sent him over the edge. “Y-You want me to agree to let you share me with complete strangers? Is that what you meant by an arrangement?”
“Evan.”
“No.” He put his hand up and retreated several more steps. “I can’t do this. I won’t.”
“Evan, listen to me.”
“What the hell kind of arrangement allows you to inflict pain whenever you feel like it? Had a bad day? Why not come home and knock the little sub around a bit to make you feel better?”
“That’s not what this is. Clearly, you skipped over your right to veto.”
“I shouldn’t have to veto something so wrong in the first place. Who’d sign a contract literally agreeing to domestic abuse?” He’d seen enough of it after he left home. Women who’d rather live on the streets than serve as someone’s punching bag. Kids who’d grown up with more bruises than skin, thanks to an abusive relative. He’d seen far too much of that ugly side and refused to enter into a contract agreeing to something like that.
“This isn’t the right contract. It’s the correct first page, but Angela sent the contents of the Master/slave contract instead of the Dominant/submissive.”
Like that made any part of this any better. Evan shook his head. “I won’t be a part of this. I’m not some sexual toy or plaything. I don’t solely exist for your pleasure. And yes, those were direct quotes.”
“I know. It’s my contract. This isn’t the first time I’ve gone through it with someone.”