Page 19 of His Boys to Protect

“You showered,” Uncle Zeke said, pointing out the obvious. “Good girl.”

Skylar forced on a smile that made his cheeks hurt.

“Are you okay?” Uncle Zeke asked, studying Skylar's eyes.

“Yeah,” Skylar replied. His boss might be a sleaze in many respects, but Skylar knew Uncle Zeke actually cared. The question and concern were genuine, and not just because Skylar was a business asset. “Easy night.”

“Good. Go get on the bed,” Uncle Zeke ordered, stepping back to hold the door open for him. “You know the position. Leave a shirt on.”

Skylar did as he was told. He headed for the master bedroom, stripped down to just the lacy shirt, tucked his clothes into a neat pile underneath a chair, out of sight, and climbed up onto the luxurious bed. At least he might get some decent sleep once Uncle Zeke was done with him. The man's bed was a thousand times more comfortable than his own. Not a sagging, lumpy mattress and a threadbare blanket on the floor, but a nice, plush pillow-top with silk sheets. Skylar tried to hold onto that thought as he positioned himself in the middle of the bed, braced on his forearms and his knees, head down, ass in the air.

He listened to the familiar sounds of Uncle Zeke coming into the room. Setting down his drink. Ripping open a condom. Then the bed dipping behind him. A hand groping his ass and rubbing between his legs.

“You're always so wet for me, aren't you, baby girl?” Uncle Zeke murmured.

“Yes, Sir,” Skylar replied, making his voice sound needy and breathless.

Uncle Zeke chuckled. “You sure you don't want to stay for Christmas?” the man asked while probing him with two fingers. “I know a few clients who would make it worth your while.”

Skylar hesitated. The holiday season was always a great time to make money. Lonely workaholics paid outrageous sums for a few hours of companionship and escape from their hectic lives. Skylar was sorely tempted to take on extra jobs like he always did this time of year. The money added up quick.

But he only had nine more months of this life to endure. Nine months until he'd be free and could run far away, leaving everything behind.

Including Charlie.

Which meant this was his last chance to celebrate Christmas with the boy. He was going to need all of those joyful memories to sustain him once he left. He couldmaybecut his time down to eight months if he took on some extra holiday jobs, but this was too important.

The money sure was tempting, though.

“No,” he finally answered. “No, I have plans, remember? I requested the time off months ago.”

“I know. Just thought I'd check again. We always have fun at Christmas, don't we?”

Skylar nodded.Yeah, we do, he thought. Every year, Uncle Zeke had spoiled him rotten, going all out with the decorations and the food, besides lavishing Skylar with gifts. Granted, most of it was girly clothing and accessories, but Skylar was able to use the items for his jobs, which meant he didn't have to buy the clothing himself, allowing him to save up even more money.

Plus there was the Christmas movie marathon and hot chocolate and even more food. Compared to his cold, cramped apartment and empty refrigerator, Christmas at Uncle Zeke's was a godsend. All the benefits were more than worth the price he had to pay, being the entertainment when Uncle Zeke had his single friends come over.

But Skylar wanted more than what Uncle Zeke had to offer. Much more. He wanted a real Christmas. He wanted love and family and friends of his own. This Christmas would be his last chance to experience that with Charlie. Who knew how many years it might be before he could settle down and have someone to share the holiday with again, if ever?

He was just a whore, after all. Who could possibly want him long-term? Who would want to share a life with him? Charlie might, but the boy deserved far better.

It would mean a lifetime of either loneliness or lies. Either way, he had to grab what opportunities he could while he had the chance.

Just this once, he wanted something real.

Chapter 9

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CHARLIE

CHARLIE PRATT loved this time of day. He was the only one awake in the house, so it was dark and peaceful. Even the neighborhood was relatively quiet. Nobody was up and going to work yet.

No, it's Sunday, he realized. For whatever reason, most people didn't work on Sundays. But they did still get up and start their cars and fill the streets, going to different places and making too much noise. At this hour, though? He didn't have to listen to the squeak of bad brakes or the roar of an exhaust system going by. He felt almost alone in the world.

And this time of year, it was even better. Thanks to the time change last month, he now woke up at 4:30 in the morning instead of 5:30. It was the same time as far as his body was concerned, but the numbers on the clocks had to be changed. Charlie scowled at the thought. The entire process was stupid. But then when had the government ever done anything that was actually to people's benefit?

Charlie rubbed his eyes and pushed the thought away, not wanting to ruin his good morning. He padded quietly into the kitchen, where the coffee was already brewed and waiting forhim. Charlie pulled out his mug, brown sugar, and creamer, then had to stop and bounce in place, so happy at the prospect of coffee that he couldn't hold it in. When he reached for the carafe, he made himself go perfectly still, not wanting the coffee to slosh out and make a mess. That would be annoying. And a shameful waste of good coffee.

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