Page 49 of French Martini

“No, you don’t. I know that isn’t true, because I know you’re strong enough to push me away if you really don’t want this.”

Searching his eyes, I offer a curt nod. “I don’t understand how you know what to say and how to say it. How did you get in my head?”

“I’ve known you damn near a year, Lowen. I’ve spent countless hours working with you, learning how your mind works, and doing my best to live up to your expectations. I’ve paid attention. That’s all.”

His reply is both soothing and unnerving at the same time, so I push it away. “I’m staying until midnight. Bane and Jerryn are closing.”

“Then I’ll see you at twelve oh five.”

I nod. “I’ll leave the door unlocked. Just come up.”

“Sure thing.” His eyes roam down my body and back up again. “I expect you to be naked and waiting for me.”

“I need to shower when I get home.”

Oakley shakes his head. “No.”

“No?” All the fight I usually have is weirdly absent right now. “Okay.”

“Good kitten.” He leans in and kisses me briefly. “Now get dressed. Or…”

“Or?”

“I could dress you.”

My stomach does a weird flip, but I’m not ready to go there.

“I’ll do it.” Bending forward, I grab my jeans and tug them up, stuffing my balls and still-hard cock inside them.

“Was this fun, kitten?”

Giving in to the experience, I nod. “Yes.”

“Good. That’s all I wanted.” He kisses my cheek. “I’ll see you out there, huh?”

I nod, watching him leave the office before slumping against the desk. How am I supposed to keep this casual when he’s so addictive? Damn, this man.

FOURTEEN

OAKLEY

Driving back to New Onyx,I grind my hand into my dick to calm it down before I have to see my client. I can’t stop remembering Lowen’s vulnerable gaze as he followed my commands. Since the first time he let me touch him, I’ve suspected that what he really craves is a man strong enough to let him be soft and keep him safe while doing it. I’m that man, and he’s slowly accepting it. If he thinks for one second that I’m letting him go once the week of events is over, he’s so wrong.

I plotted all morning to walk into Moby’s and ask for his panties and damn, it was so worth it. Now I have to make it to midnight before I can get my hands on him again. At least Yves Orpheus is so intense he commands all my attention. That’ll keep me distracted until I head home again.

Pulling into the parking lot of the derelict building that will become a new vision for the city, I notice there are several cars. Yves and his man, Damiano, are leaning against the hood of a black SUV while another man with long hair is pacing in front of the doors to the building. Standing nearby is a group of several men, five or six that I can see from here. Did something happen?

I choose a spot, shut off my truck, and climb out, striding over to Yves. He glances up, his face relaxing when he sees me.

“Oakley,” he says in his deep, indiscernibly accented voice. Damiano nods in greeting, but his jaw is set. Tense.

“What’s going on?”

“Got it!” The long-haired man near the front of the building pushes past glass doors barely attached to the hinges and disappears inside.

“Thorn, wait!” another man shouts, this one also with long, dark hair but a much more sinister demeanor. He’s followed by a man so beautiful he should be the dark counterpart to my kitten.

Yves clicks his teeth and shakes his head. “Apologies. Thorn is overzealous at times.”

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