Page 90 of The Cartographer

“Must I answer that, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Because he’s more like you.”

That hits me square in the chest, an impact right to the heart that jolts me in a way hits do. It obviously doesn’t hurt, but I can feel pressure, force, and I do. I clear my throat to get rid of the sensation.

“Right. Well, I guess we’re done here, then. I should get ready for Collette.”

“You’ve got Tariq first today, sir.”

“Yes, of course…” It’s not often I feel adrift, but I do right now. I have work to focus on, not this yenta business. It’s done, then. Julian. Julian and Hart, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. Well, more likely Allie being tied to the trunk while Julian stripes his shapely ass with a cane or birches his back and then fucks him until his abs and pecs and the fronts of his thick thighs are scratched by the bark. Details. Details that happen to be getting me hard, but details nonetheless.

I swing my feet off Matthew’s back and take up Julian’s folder, leaving the rest on the floor because Matthew will take care of them as he does with everything else. I’m about to leave, but there’s something else I need to do.

Striding back over to Matthew, I take a deep breath before I lay a hand on the back of his neck and stroke beneath his ear. “You did as you were asked, Matthew. I’m not unhappy with you. Go back to work.”

“Yes, sir.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

‡

Julian is aspreppily stylish and handsome as I remember him being. Navy blazer with a perfectly tucked pocket square, sleeves rolled up to show off a brightly striped shirt and shapely wrists. He sits across the table from me, sipping a Pimm’s cup with a decidedly enquiring look playing over his regular and somewhat delicate features.

“What’s all this about, then?”

He’s lived here for ten years, but he’s still got a bit of that upper-crust accent and I don’t blame him. It’s sexy as fuck but can turn deliciously malevolent on a dime.

“You’re not trying to get in my pants again are you, old boy?”

He winks at me, and I let him see my teeth, though it’s hardly a smile. My Moscow Mule is a more pleasant place to focus my attention than on Julian’s achingly perfect face, that ridiculous swoop of shiny black hair only the English seem to be able to pull off without looking like complete and utter ninnies.

“No. Though if you ever decide to switch sides of the wicket…”

“Are you trying to make a cricket joke? That’s adorable.”

He takes another drink and regards me with the quiet, unnerving concentration Allie will flourish under. “Seriously. I haven’t heard from you for a while and you haven’t been around much. Is everything all right? Do you need a favor? Anyone giving you trouble?”

“No, nothing of the sort. In fact, I’ve got a favor I’d like to do for you.”

Julian’s perfectly arched brows inch up his forehead, and he leans forward, hands steepling over his glass. “Do tell.”

Ah, yes. I’ve piqued his interest. “I’ve got someone for you. He’s new, but I’ve worked with him quite a bit.”

Yes, worked him over. With a flogger, with a cane, with my hand, bound him in my ropes, come in his mouth, and fucked his virgin ass.

“He’s a good-looking man, little rough around the edges, but submits quite beautifully if you can earn it. You’ll have to because he could bench press you. Intelligent but not particularly educated, ex- and perhaps future military. Loyal to a fault and proud as hell. And frankly, he’s a damn fine cocksucker. Interested?”

Julian’s eyes light up, I’m sure imagining Allie on his knees fellating one of his favorite strap-ons. “Given that you’ve described every fantasy I’ve ever had, I’d say yes. Tell me more about this prize. Starting with his name.”

“Hart. Allie Hart.”

“Allie Hart.” The words roll off Julian’s tongue, between his perfect teeth and through his narrow lips. I hate the way he caresses them, as if he’s already got Allie under his control, but that’s the point of this whole thing, right? It’s time to wrap Hart back up, stick a big red bow on him, and hand him over to someone who’ll be able to play for keeps, who’ll cherish and nurture him, and yes, beat the ever-loving crap out of him.

Matthew was right to put Julian at the top of the pile. I believe he’s precisely the man for the job, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to play kinky Santa Claus yet. I’m going to make Julian work for this, just to prove I can. And because Allie deserves that. Someone who’ll fight for him, not someone who wants to play a bizarre Pygmalion and then send him on his way.

*

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