Page 4 of The Company We Keep

Spurred on and a little reckless, Dust slipped a gloved hand down between Carrow’s thighs, palming him. He couldn’t hear the pleased chuckle that his boss let out at that, but he could feel the low laugh through the man’s back. Dust stroked against the hardness trapped there again, and Carrow finally chanced a look back at him that was equal parts amusement and caution.

You’re gonna make us crash,the glance said,and I might be OK with that.

It was Dust’s turn to laugh. He pulled off, impatient but knowing that he’d have to wait if he wanted more.

As they barreled down the dark highway, Dust didn’t know where Carrow was taking them and he didn’t care. He was content to put his fate in this man’s capable hands every day, and every day Carrow had proven himself worthy of the trust. Dust didn’t try to make sense of the directions as Carrow took sharp turns. Since Dust had joined The Company, Carrow had saved him more times than he could count on one hand, after all.

He felt drunk off of the score, off of the smoke and broken glass and the laughter of his friends. He let the scenery wash over him: the dark Pacific Ocean beyond the cliffs on one side and the impossibly tall palm trees silhouetted against the light pollution of the city on the other — and then the city itself, sparkling and gritty and beautiful in its own way.

They exited the highway. Carrow pulled them up to a hotel, and as soon as the name of the place came into view, Dust should’ve known that this was where they were headed. Most places paled in comparison to the type of luxury thatCarrow had access to in his own penthouse, but the hotel they were entering at that moment spared no expense and was one of the only places in the city where Carrow felt as safe as he did in his own 45th story penthouse.

It was Carrow’s favorite haunt.

Better yet, The Company was a known entity there — and instead of being treated like wanted scum, the staff understood that Carrow was a valuable client. They treated Carrow — and in turn, Dust — like a king.

The concierge met them at the door, falling into step beside them. She was familiar, recognized the billionaire even when he was wearing his nondescript, dark heist clothes instead of the fine suits he normally chose.

“Your regular suite, sir?” she asked, offering out a key card. Carrow chuckled deep in his chest, a hand on the small of Dust’s back. He took the card and nodded.

“Just one night’s stay,” he said. “Much obliged.”

She smiled meekly and nodded, falling off as they reached the other side of the hobby.

“I’ll send up clothes for the morning?” she asked, noting that neither man had a bag. Carrow just nodded. “And room service this evening?”

Carrow started to say no, but Dust cut him off.

“Yes, please,” Dust said over his shoulder. “The usual, if the kitchen’s still open.”

“Veuve Cliquot Brut and a large vegan pizza?”

Carrow stopped in his tracks.

“Louise, make it the Grande Dame Rosé. And give us an hour before you send it up.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, smiling at the upgrade — maybe sensing a big tip. People did tend to love it when Carrow was in a generous mood. “Enjoy your stay, sirs.”

“Thanks so much, Louise,” Dust said as Carrow guided him towards the elevator. (There were plenty of perks, ofcourse, to sleeping with an outlaw billionaire. But it never hurt to be polite.)

And Dust was hungry. He was always hungry.

Dust felta pang of regret as he opened the curtains in the hotel’s presidential suite only to realize that the panoramic views were impossible to appreciate in the dark.

“Should we tell the others where we are?” he asked, turning to Carrow.

“They know where to find us,” he said, catching Dust by the hips, swaying to some silent rhythm.

“I can’t believe you’re going to deny me my dream of having sex on top of a stack of gold bullion,” Dust said, narrowing his eyes at his boss.

“Come, come,” Carrow said, his mouth curling into a smile. “There’ll be time for that back home.”

He caught Dust, then, in a kiss, walking him back from the floor-to-ceiling windows. The adrenaline still hadn’t worn off for either man, and Dust knew that everything he felt would be mirrored for the older man. Sensations were more intense — smells sharper, colors brighter, noises more definite… Sexeven better.

The temptation to crash together post-heist was too great to resist, and neither man was strong enough to fight it. Carrow maneuvered him back towards the king-sized bed. Neither of them wanted it gentle in that moment, and that was just fine.

Carrow undressed him quickly, stopping here and there to suck a mark into the skin of Dust’s neck, his taut belly, his inner thigh, before hipping him down onto the bed. Dust laughed and fell easily, lying back to watch Carrow undress — a sight he never grew tired of.

He couldn’t think of a view he enjoyed more — not watching the sun setting in a kaleidoscope of colors over the Pacific from Carrow’s penthouse, not the blaze of a perfectly timed explosion, not even the stack of gold bullion in the back of The Company’s van. They all paled in comparison to the sight of Carrow’s dark smile, the careful way he dragged the pants down his hips, the deep chest and the thick length straining against the front of his boxer briefs.

---