Page 150 of The Influencer

“Then I’ll be in the powder room.”

No sooner than the bathroom door shuts behind him, I’m unzipping my pants and reaching in, heading straight for Jade. He faces me, plants his hands on the bed, and opens his mouth for me to shove my cock inside. His teeth scrape across my piercings and then he swallows me down.

After four good sucks I’m choking out a groan as I shoot down his throat. He gulps around me, sending electric shocks of pleasure through every nerve ending in my body until I can’t take any more and pull away.

He wipes up some spillage from his chin and looks up at me with round, green eyes. To alleviate any concerns about whether I still want him, I grab his face and kiss him deeply, hungrily, while he shoves his hands into my hair and responds like he’s asking forgiveness with his cum-coated tongue.

“Was I okay?” he asks.

“Perfect. So fucking hot.”

“Are we okay?”

“You tell me,” I say, examining his face for signs that maybe we’re not.

“I love you so much, Asher,” he says, and it sounds pitiful.

“Baby…” I hug him close and kiss his sweet-smelling head. Fuck… Here it comes. “I… you’re my fucking favorite.”

I bite the two damning words off at the last possible second, self-doubt strangling them back down my throat. But they’re right there, along with the emotion lodged firmly in my chest. This feeling I refuse to put words to yet. But I know what’s up. These have been the best days of my entire, stupid life, and Jade and me—we were fucking inevitable.

Two weeks later, Jade sets up a collaboration with a more famous camboy who is known for being fully vers.

There’s no hiding his stress about this one, but money talks, and I need this one—for both of us. He’s asked me a hundred times whether I want him to cancel, but we have to go through with it. I mean, if he’s willing to, which he adamantly claims to be, then I can handle it. Somehow. I’m not sure how I’m going to handle it, because I’m increasingly crazy about the little minx, but I’ll deal. I fucking refuse to hold him back or be anything like a speed bump in his life.

The day comes, and Jade’s not a happy camper. Even when I offer him a massage—no strings attached, which he usually accepts enthusiastically—I get the cold shoulder. “What is this?” I ask. “Getting into character?”

If looks could kill.

He gives me a slight break about an hour before Jackson Pierce is due to arrive. The sex script for tonight consists mainly of ball-sucking and ass-fucking. Taking turns.

And I won’t be watching. Jade’s terms.

Originally, he wanted me out of the condo the whole time, but last night he said I could stay if I wanted to.

I do.

But I asked him what he wanted before I took him up on the offer, and he said he wanted me to stay, too. “But no peeking.”

I’m working on a sketch for a client at the rarely used dining table when Jade walks over, pulls a chair right up beside me, and puts his hands on my leg. “I’m just nervous,” he says.

I turn my head to look at him. “I know.”

His gaze moves over to my sketch. “That’s beautiful. Who’s it for?”

“A client named Samantha.”

“Where’s she getting it?”

“Right shoulder.”

He drops his head until his forehead hits my right shoulder. “How are you doing?” he asks.

I know what he wants me to say—that’s the thing. But he also knows what I’m going to say. “I’m good. How are you doing? Other than nervous.”

“Sort of sick to my stomach.”

“Is that normal when you do this kind of thing?”

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