I gasped, body arching up against him. His strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me up close as he slipped his tongue past my lips.

He’s got a tongue piercing, was my first thought as my own tongue butted against the steel knob, then I ceased thinking at all as pleasure and instinct took over.

He picked me up like I weighed nothing and carried me into his bedroom. There he gently put me down in the middle of his huge bed, all while he kept kissing me. His hands, which had grabbed my arse as he lifted me, now moved up under the baggy T-shirt to encounter my flushed, naked skin.

His mouth left mine to attach to my neck instead and I tilted my head back on a low moan. Very low, as making noise during sex was a big no-no. Or so I’d been told, anyway.

“This okay?” Wynn asked, thumb brushing over my nipple.

“Mmm.” This was more than okay.

“Good.” And with that, he easily slipped the T-shirt off me, then sat up slightly to pull his own off as well.

He was… magnificent, there was no other word for it. Tanned, tattooed, ripped. He wasn’t just toned, he had actual washboard abs. As well as a dark smattering of hair over his chest and down to his trousers.

I was nothing compared to him. I was slim and toned yes because of all the dancing I did, and my skin wasn’t exactly pale—thanks to my mum’s Asian genes—but I didn’t work out regularly like he obviously did. I wasn’t tall or broad or fit. I was a small, slim, femme guy… and if Wynn wanted to, he could crush me.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He grabbed my wrists and moved my arms up over my head, holding them there with one hand while the other splayed over my chest. “You’re gorgeous.”

Now that was a first, but I went with it. I didn’t believe him, but he clearly wanted to shag me, so he was probably laying it on a bit thick just to get me there. He didn’t have to though, I was already here. I wanted this just as much as he did.

His mouth, again attached to my neck, moved downwards. Sucking, licking, kissing his way down over my collarbone, my nipple, and down my stomach until he reached the hem of the joggers. He hesitated only briefly—perhaps to see if I had anything to say about it—and then he let go of my hands to pull both the joggers and boxers down and off.

Cold air licked over my naked skin… until he was back over me, covering me completely as he dove into another deep kiss. I clutched at his upper arms, feeling the muscles flex under his skin.

His hand circled my cock and I arched my hips into it, wanting, begging for more. More touch, more heat, more pressure. I should do the same for him too, I figured, so I hooked my fingers under the hem of his trousers.

“No.” He batted my hands away.

“But—You—” I stared at him as he moved down my body again, lips ghosting over my stomach before his chin butted against the head of my dick. “I should—”

He met my gaze. “Don’t guys go down on you?” His lips were so close to my dick.

“Not… really.” Alistair never deigned to go down on me. He probably thought doing that would make him gay. As if fucking my arse didn’t make him that to begin with. But don’t think about him! He didn’t belong here, not with this fine specimen of a man.

He grinned wryly. “Then lie down and enjoy.”

It felt wrong to be on the receiving end of a blow job. To enjoy all on my own without doing anything in return. I was usually the one who did the cocksucking—and who then turned around to spread my arse so they’d have a hole to fuck with all their might. That’s the kind of sex I was used to, not this… this slow, torturous pleasure he was currently dishing out.

He stroked me and his lips briefly sucked my head in, but then let it pop back out. He pulled the foreskin down before he licked all the way up my shaft… and then finally took me into his heat, tongue pressing against the underside while he sucked.

My hands fisted in the sheets and I strangled my moans before they could be voiced as much as I was able to. I swear my toes curled, that’s how good he was at this. The tongue piercing… that was also something else and he knew exactly how to use it to give me the most pleasure.

I clamped a hand over my mouth as I came, muffling the voice I could no longer keep inside. My stomach hollowed, showing off my ribs, but it didn’t matter because he wasn’t even looking. He was still sucking, swallowing every single last drop coming out of me.

When I was empty, I lay boneless, staring up at the ceiling without really seeing it, enjoying the post-orgasmic bliss.

I didn’t notice he’d moved until he pushed my legs further apart and scooted in-between them. Here it comes, I thought, trying to stay relaxed as I waited for his cock to breach me… but it didn’t.

He was still on his knees, trousers and underwear off, and he wanked himself off over me. His dick was flushed, straining, and… he had several piercings on the underside of it. I’d heard about them, but couldn’t remember what they were called. Something ladder, if I wasn’t mistaken. And he had a Prince Albert, but not a ring that was usual in porn. It was a bar like the others, except a little more curved.

I’d never seen genital piercings in real life before. It was hot. And I wondered what it would be like if he fucked me. Would it feel any different than an un-pierced cock? Surely I’d feel them? And what was it like for him? A lot more sensitive, I’d reckon.

“Like it?” he asked, grinning wryly. That seemed to be his standard grin, really, like he could only move the one side of his face while the other stayed in a neutral expression.

“Y-yeah.” What would it be like to suck a dick with all those piercings?

His hand moved quickly, expertly getting himself off. His eyes closed briefly as he shot his first load, to land on my lower stomach, some of it tangling in my short, trimmed pubes. His neck strained as he tilted his head back, stroking himself faster, squeezing harder, until he had nothing more to give either.

“Fuck.” He collapsed at my side, so close our shoulders and arms pressed together.

“I thought you’d want to fuck me,” I blurted out, swirling my index finger through his come on my stomach.

He chuckled. “It’s too late for that. Or too early, depending on how you look at it.” He grabbed my hand, brought it to his lips, and licked the semen off my fingers. Then he met my gaze straight on. “When I fuck you, I want to take my time.”

My face flushed red, but I couldn’t look away. His eyes were dark, but they held a promise. A promise of great sex to come, and just… yes. I was so down for that. I smiled through my embarrassment, secretly pleased that he clearly had plans for more, not just this one time.

“Go to sleep, Kasey.” He curled around me, wrapping one strong arm around my waist. “Everything will be better tomorrow.”

I let myself be moved onto my side so he could be the big spoon to my little one, and I put my hand over his. But his words… those I didn’t believe. In the morning I would have to face my life again and that wasn’t something I looked forward to. If we could’ve just stayed in bed like this forever, I thought I’d be happy, but that wasn’t possible. I had to wake up, had to leave, had to go home, where Alistair lived and ruled.

But for now I wasn’t going to think about him. I was going to enjoy the one good thing that had happened to me today—in months, really. Wynn was a warm, calming, heavy presence against my back. After the day I’d had, I didn’t need much else to fall right asleep. The orgasm I’d just had probably helped too.

* * *

I woke up alone.

For a brief moment I was disoriented, looking around in wonder as I realised I wasn’t in my own bedroom. The sheets were rumpled, but the space next to me was cold, so Wynn was long gone.

A sigh left me and I sat up slowly to look for my clothes. Or his clothes, as it were. Turned out I didn’t have to, because my own clothes were lying neatly folded on the bedside table. When I touched them, they were still warm from the dryer.

The sheets pooled in my lap and I looked down at myself to see how dirty I was after he’d come on me. Turned out I wasn’t. There was absolutely no evidence of semen on me at all—and I clearly remembered some of it trickling into my pubes.

He cleaned me up. My face heated. I pulled my clothes on in quick, jerky movements. Was this his way of saying thanks for a nice night but off you go? I dreaded leaving the bedroom, to find out what waited me out there. Was he even out there? Well, he had to be, this was his flat, he wouldn’t leave me alone in it. Would he?

I couldn’t keep sitting on the bed, so I crossed the room and opened the door slowly—and was met by the smell of food.

“Morning,” Wynn greeted, back to me as he worked in the kitchen. “I made breakfast.”

“Oh.” I blinked, completely taken aback.

He glanced over his shoulder. “You’ve got time to eat right?”

I nodded quickly and sat down at the table as he motioned me to. Minutes later, he sat a plate with a full English down in front of me.

“Water, tea, or juice?”

“Juice, thank you.” I didn’t know what to say. This was… unexpected.

A glass filled to the brim of orange juice arrived in front of me next, and then he sat down opposite me with a replica of my own breakfast. I tried for a smile, but I was pretty sure it fell short.

“I didn’t know what you liked, but I figured a full English is always a safe bet.” He raised an eyebrow questioning.

“This is great,” I hurried to say because I didn’t want to sound ungrateful. “It’s just… no one’s ever made breakfast for me before.” No one had ever done any of the things he’d done. Taken care of me, comforted me, given me pleasure without expecting me to give anything in return. And now this…

His gaze, as dark as ever, told me nothing. His face was expressionless. But he seemed a little tense. I didn’t know why, but he’d gone to the trouble of making a proper breakfast for us, so… it couldn’t be that he wanted me gone, right?

I hadn’t eaten since dinner yesterday, and that hadn’t been a particularly satisfying meal as I’d been hurrying between my audition and getting ready for work. “This is really good,” I said after I swallowed a bite of eggs and hash-browns.

“I know,” he said, not self-conscious in the least. “I know how to cook.”

I wasn’t all that good at it. Mum liked to cook, but I’d never wanted to learn. And Kian and Silver… they went out for take-away more often than not. It wasn’t exactly healthy, but it was quick and easy. “Did someone teach you how to cook?” If I’d let Mum teach me, I could make lots of tasty dishes—even Korean ones, but as it was, I had no clue.

He snorted. “I taught myself. I’ve been alone for a long time.”

What did that mean? He hadn’t lived with someone in long? Or that he didn’t have anyone? Speaking of, I had no idea how old he was. He couldn’t be around my age, as he was an acquaintance of my brother, so it was more likely that he was around Kian’s age. At least five years older then, but probably more. I didn’t dare ask. That would be rude, right?

“Do you only work at the club?” he asked, effectively changing the subject and making sure I didn’t blurt out the question of age.

“Yeah.” Though now I wasn’t facing an audition I’d probably have to find another one to earn more money. So I could finally get away from Al. If my goal couldn’t be to earn a degree from the London Contemporary Dance School, then it was damn well going to be get as far away from Alistair as humanly possible.

“You working tonight?” His gaze was steady, not leaving me for a moment.

“Shouldn’t you know that?” I countered. “Don’t you set up the schedule?” It was his club, after all.

He chuckled. “I’ve got someone who does that shit for me. As well as hire people. All I do is the paperwork.”

“That’s hardly all you do,” I scoffed, not believing him for a second. Owning and running one of London’s biggest gay nightclubs couldn’t be as easy as doing some simple paperwork.

“It basically is.” He stretched his arms, hooking them behind his back. “Delegating work makes for a much smoother operation. And less work for me.”

I wasn’t sure if he was taking the piss or not, so I decided to move the conversation along. “Yeah, I work tonight.”

His gaze got all intense again. “Then do you have plans before work?”

“No.” What was he getting at? Did he… did he want us to do something? My heart started beating faster at that thought, at the hope that this wasn’t the end. That it hadn’t just been a one-off.

He chuckled. “You don’t have to look like a deer caught in headlights. I’m not going to force you to do anything.”

“I—I’m not! I mean, I don’t think that, I’m not—” Damn it, I couldn’t get the words out properly and I scowled unhappily down at what remained of my breakfast. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would, I was just surprised you want to—” My head shot up as he pushed away from the table.

He grabbed his empty plate, walked past me… and then reached out to ruffle my hair. “You’re sweet, Kasey.”

My face flushed again and I stuffed the rest of the sausage in my mouth, chewing instead of giving a stupid answer back, like the childish am not.

He was in the kitchen now, rinsing the plate and putting it in the dishwasher. Then he was behind me, hands landing gently on my shoulder, squeezing just the tiniest bit. “Not a fan of beans?”

I stared at the beans I’d moved out of the way from the rest. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He whisked the plate away, rinsing it, putting it in the dishwasher, exactly like he’d done with his own. Speaking of, he’d cleaned everything he’d used to make breakfast. The counters themselves gleamed.

He’s a bit of a neat freak, huh? I filed that information away because I didn’t feel comfortable enough to point it out.

“Kasey?” he said then, turning back around to face me as soon as everything was squeaky clean. He crossed his arms, head tilting a little.

“Yeah?” He sounded serious. A serious tone like that never boded well for me.

“Spend the day in bed with me?”

I blinked, taken aback.

He blew out a breath and looked away. “It’s okay.”

Okay? “No—”

“I’m your boss,” he spoke almost to himself now, not paying me any mind. “It’s not ethically correct to shag your employee. But it’s fine. I’m not going to make it awkward for you.”

Awkward… God, he seemed so sure of himself but right now he’s a right idiot. “I want to,” I blurted out, a bit more hotly than intended. I stopped, swallowed, then met his surprised gaze. “Yes, Wynn, I want to spend the day in bed with you.”

For the first time since he comforted me outside the club last night, both sides of his lips tilted up in a tiny little smile—but I didn’t need to see more of it. He wasn’t the kind of person to smile, even I knew that the little I’d seen of him, but right now he did. Because of me.

Now that was enough to boost anyone’s ego, even mine.