CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
My hands looked weird on the steering wheel, the nail polish making them look like they belonged to someone else, and I glanced sideways at Jarrod when he stopped at the next set of traffic lights.
Jarrod had pulled his knees up to his chin and was gazing out of the car window at the early morning rush hour traffic. “You OK?” I asked, and Jarrod turned back to face me.
“Yeah, kind of,” Jarrod said. “Glad the night’s over. What about you?”
I nodded, and the lights changed, and I hummed along with the stereo.
I dropped my leather jacket onto Jarrod’s couch and pulled Jarrod close. Jarrod was pliant, his arms wound around my neck, and I kissed him. This was territorial and possessive, and everything it wasn’t supposed to be, but that was how I was feeling right then. Judging by the hunger with how Jarrod returned my kisses, Jarrod wasn’t resisting. I threaded one of my hands into Jarrod’s curls, holding his head steady, and I slid the other under Jarrod’s T-shirt and spread my hand across Jarrod’s back, pushing our bodies closer together.
I slid my mouth from Jarrod’s mouth across his cheek, lips rasping on stubble, and sucked on Jarrod’s neck. “Don’t mark me,” Jarrod said, and I let go with a wet sound.
“I won’t,” I murmured, but Jarrod slid back out of my arms, back across the tiny kitchen.
“We need to talk, at least a little,” Jarrod said, and I took a steadying breath in.
“Sure.”
Jarrod looked nervous, and I took a step forward, intending to reassure him, and but Jarrod held his hand up. “What happens if we do this?”
“What do you think will happen?”
Shaking his head, Jarrod said, “I don’t want to be the sensible one here.”
This time Jarrod let me touch him, and I slid his fingertips up Jarrod’s arm, brushing over the fine hairs and smooth skin. “Then I will be,” I said. “We will not do this, not now. I will take your shirt off…” I undid the buttons down Jarrod’s chest and belly. “And we will lie on your bed…” I pushed Jarrod’s shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. “And I will touch you and… That’s all.”
I pressed kisses to Jarrod’s elbow then smiled at Jarrod who was watching me with careful eyes. Lifting Jarrod’s arm above my head and resting it on the pillow, I trailed kisses across the pale skin. I drifted fingertips, nails a dark purple against the cream of Jarrod’s skin, up Jarrod’s arm, and the fine hairs bristled under his touch as goosebumps appeared everywhere I touched.
When I had worked my way back to Jarrod’s wrist, I bit on the sensitive skin and picked Jarrod’s hand up again and brought it to my lips. Judging by the blissful look on Jarrod’s face and the ridge in his jeans, Jarrod wasn’t going to stop me from sucking his fingers but that wasn’t what I had in mind.
I spread Jarrod’s thumb out from his hand and licked the webbing between it and his fingers, then sucked the webbing into my mouth.
Jarrod made this needy noise that sent blood surging to my cock, and I spared one of my hands long enough to reach down and give myself a much-needed squeeze. I transferred my mouth to Jarrod’s palm and sucked again, letting my teeth graze the mound of muscle at the base of Jarrod’s thumb.
I could make love to Jarrod this way, by touching him in places that nobody else ever would, that no customer ever would, and it would substitute for what we both wanted.
Jarrod’s eyes were closed as he focused on my touches, and his mouth was open, and I leaned forward and kissed Jarrod and my hand fluttered over Jarrod’s belly.
When I moved so his mouth could join his hand on Jarrod’s belly, the scent of pheromones from Jarrod’s groin almost undid me, but I resisted burying his face in the folds of denim and concentrated on Jarrod’s belly. I didn’t lick the tattoo that was too obvious; instead, I smoothed my hand across the planes of Jarrod’s belly up to his ribs, then licked between the grooves of Jarrod’s ribs.
“Enough,” Jarrod said, and his hand latched onto my hair and lifted my head. “Now let me touch you.”
Jarrod still smelt of Listerine and patchouli from work, and the bedding was clean and crisp underneath my shoulders when I pulled my T-shirt over my head and laid back. Whatever it was they were doing, and it wasn’t sex, had Sebastian’s head reeling. I should tire him, he should be asleep, but Jarrod was biting on his shoulder, and the real question was how was he going to come?
Jarrod dragged his nails across my belly and ripples of pleasure ran though me, making me moan. “Yes,” I gasped and Jarrod’s fingers undid the top button of my fly and his mouth latched onto my nipple.
I wasn’t sure which part of not having sex this was covered by, but I would not stop Jarrod.
“Watch,” Jarrod said, and I scrunched the pillow behind my head up so it propped my head up further, and Jarrod slid the zip of my jeans down.
There was dampness spreading across the front of my boxers now, where the head of my cock was straining at the fabric, and Jarrod made a pleased noise in his throat and eased my boxers over the bulge.
The sight of Jarrod’s hand curled around my cock, dark purple nails startling against his skin, was the most erotic thing I had ever seen, then Jarrod stroked his cock hard and Sebastian clutched at the sheet beneath him in desperation.
I thought I was sophisticated, there wasn’t much I hadn’t tried, and Daniela and I had exhausted the possibilities in the ten years we’d been together; but here I was, getting off on a simple hand job.
Next stroke, pre-come oozed out of the head of my cock. Stroke after that, Jarrod changed his grip and I closed my eyes as the ache built. I knew what to do to delay my orgasm; draw my knees up, shift the focus of his mind to earlier in the sex, but it was so intense that I didn’t want to delay.
Jarrod said, “Watch,” again and I forced his eyes open.
I watched as Jarrod stroked my cock, watched and clutched onto the edge of the bed, then all the willpower in the world couldn’t keep my eyes open and I cried out and thrust up and came.
Jarrod’s hands were gentle as they wiped come off my belly with tissues and I smiled, opened my eyes and stroked Jarrod’s cheek with still trembling fingertips.
Jarrod tossed the wad of tissues onto the floor and settled with his head on my shoulder and his arm across my chest.
“What would you like?” I asked, and kissed Jarrod’s forehead.
Jarrod propped himself up on one elbow and I traced the furrows on his forehead. “I thought I didn’t want anything,” Jarrod said. “I thought that touching you would be enough.”
If Jarrod touching me had been good, it was nothing compared to the thrill that ran though me at the thought of returning those touches to Jarrod. “What would you like me to do?
Jarrod smiled a little. “I seem to be not great at asking for things for myself anymore,” he admitted. “Watch me?”
Jarrod slid down the fly on his jeans and wriggled them off and I couldn’t help myself, I spread my fingers over one of Jarrod’s hip bones, relishing the feel of his skin. Jarrod stilled his hand, then took a tube of lube out of the nightstand.
He squeezed copious amounts of lube onto his cock and spread it around. I had listened to all the staff long enough to know why me and Selene were refilling the lube dispensers in the bedrooms. The slightest graze or abrasion hurt like hell after a busy night, and lube was the key to successful prostitution, the more the better. Chloe was prone to long and detailed descriptions of the state of her vulva and the damage it took and bought her own lube on the grounds it was a better quality product than Eamon and Autumn provided.
His eyes slid closed, Jarrod trailed his fingers through the lube, then he stroked himself. “Oh, God,” he whispered, and I kissed him, swallowing his whispers, coaxing more from his lips.
If having Jarrod touch me had been good, it was nothing compared to the eroticism of what they were doing now, and I transferred my hand from Jarrod’s hip back to my cock and stroked in time with Jarrod’s hand.
“I need to stop,” Jarrod murmured against my lips, and when I pulled back a little, Jarrod brushed lube slick fingers over my cheek.
My disappointment must have shown because Jarrod said, “I’m sorry. I can’t come, not at the end of a night.”
“OK,” I said, and kissed Jarrod. “Daniela drummed it into my head I should stop obsessing over whether she came, or how often. I guess that applies here too.”
“She’s a smart woman,” Jarrod said. “Though you don’t want me to say that. Can you stay for a while?”
“I can stay all day,” I said.
Jarrod was half asleep in my arms, so I slid out of the bed and went to the bathroom, and brushed my teeth, then turned the kitchen light off and slid back into bed.
***
Jarrod’s alarm woke me, startling, and Jarrod leaned over and turned it off. “Coffee?” Jarrod asked.
While Jarrod made coffee, I went through the messages on my cell phone.
There was one from Daniela: “Sebastian, you’re a bastard, your latest child support check bounced. And Billy’s been telling me all about your boyfriend. He’s an actor you’ve been driving around.” Even on the voicemail message, her voice dripped sarcasm. “You’re stupid to let Billy meet any of the hookers you work with. Which bit of not endangering our son didn’t you get?”
Jarrod put my coffee on the bedside table and sat beside me. “You all right?” he asked, concern in his voice.
I nodded and put my cell phone on the bedside table.
“Let’s shower, then go out,” Jarrod said. “Find somewhere we can eat at three in the afternoon, somewhere decent. It’s daylight out there, and we can be ordinary people for a few hours.”
I said, “Er, I’m flat broke.”
“I’m buying,” Jarrod said. “Do you know anywhere that serves truffle omelets at this time of day?”