Page 35 of Leather and Longing
Paul stayed where he was, the echo of Adam’s footsteps receding up the stairs. He should have felt satisfied.
I wanted this, right?He’d wanted the sharp taste of Adam’s authority, the rough intimacy of it. And yes, the sex had been good. Better than good.
But the silence Adam left behind rang hollow.
Paul let out a breath and raked a hand through his hair.
Definitely not mine.
The words had been tossed off so casually, as though they cost Adam nothing. But Paul had heard the snort, the careful deflection, and worse, the pause before it. For one reckless moment, he’d thought Adam might answer differently. That maybe this wasn’t only about release, about Adam clawing back a scrap of his old self.
Paul scrubbed a hand over his mouth, tasting the ghost of what had passed between them. He told himself it was enough, but the ache low in his chest betrayed him.
He wanted more. Not more sex—though God knew he wouldn’t refuse it—but more ofAdam. The man who could exit a room with gravitas even while navigating with a cane. The manwho pretended nothing could touch him, when Paul had already seen the cracks in that armour.
He forced himself to move, gathering up the discarded clothes, and picking up the items that had fallen from his pockets.
Okay, so getting fucked wasn’t in my job description. I’m not about to complain, not after that.What played over and over in his head was thewayAdam had fucked him. Sure, there’d been passion, need, but…
But no connection.
And maybe there was a small part of Paul that craved a connection. The truth pressed in as heavily as the quiet house around him.
Adam had drawn a line tonight.
Paul wasn’t sure he could stop himself from wanting to cross it.
Chapter Fifteen
Paul wentthrough the mechanics of setting up the coffee machine, slicing bread, the daily routine of making breakfast, but his mind was elsewhere. He could still recall the feel of Adam inside him, but it didn’t bring him any joy. He’d crawled into bed feeling oddly deflated. Adam’s final words of the night before had robbed him of the pleasure he’d felt. When he’d awoken, the mood hadn’t left him.
Why did I have to open my big mouth?
Up until the moment he’d unwisely asked where he’d be sleeping, he’d loved every single second of it. His previous sexual encounters paled into insignificance. Adam certainly knew how to fuck a guy into the floor, and Paul had come harder than he’d ever done in his life. But the fucking was over, and the following morning brought certain questions with it. Was Adam going to expect them having sex to become a regular occurrence, or was it strictly a one-off? And if he was, how would Paul feel about his boss fucking him?
That was if he dared to bring up the subject in the first place.
He’d already been on the receiving end of Adam’s vitriol, so it wasn’t like he didn’t know what to expect. And if that last derisive snort was an indicator, it could end really badly.
Paul glanced at the clock on the oven. Nine o’clock already. He raised his eyes toward the ceiling.Come on, Adam. Time to wake up.He considered taking his boss some coffee but scrapped that idea.Yeah, so I’m a wuss. He didn’t want to face Adam until it was absolutely necessary.
I have a bad feeling about this.
Sunday morning might have brought with it the feeling of satiation, but Adam had also awoken to a slow growing anger, most of which was directed at himself. His body was tense, his pulse speedy, his heartbeat pounding.
Adam knew the source of his frustration. A quick fuck on the library floor had scratched his itch, but in the light of day, other emotions had soon surfaced. Yeah, he’d enjoyed it, but that was part of the problem. He wanted more, and that wanting only made him angrier. He had no desire to be dependent on anyone or anything, even the highs good sex brought with it. Prior to his diagnosis, Adam had a voracious sexual appetite. He loved to fuck and fuck often. Granted, three months with no sex didn’t amount to torture in anyone’s book, but now he was back in the saddle, as it were, his body had come out of hibernation, and it was ravenous. Adam wasn’t about to go looking for a hot hole, not when he’d discovered his new Personal Assistant was gay and possibly submissive. And if the previous night was anything to go by, Paul was definitely willing.
And that right there was the problem.
Adam was pissed off that he was already craving the feel of firm flesh beneath him, the heat of Paul’s body wrapped aroundhis dick. He’d awoken with a hard-on, and the first thought to cross his aching head had been to regret not having the young man in his bed after all: morning blowjobs couldn’t be beaten. That had been the start of his bad mood.
Adam Kent didnotacknowledge cravings, and he didn’t evenbeginto contemplate giving in to them. He’d rather do without sex than do that.
As he descended the stairs, he could hear Paul moving about in the kitchen below. First thing on the agenda was to give Paul his instructions for the day. This would be his first day as Adam’s assistant, and Adam intended to start as he meant to go on.
Paul was going to be very, very busy.
And you still expect him to wash the dishes, do the laundry, clean all the rooms?
