Page 128 of Naughty Dreams
“Gilda said the same. Despite the NDA Roy had her sign when he was five.” DJ tossed Roy a grin.
Marjorie touched DJ’s face with a tender look, then picked her phone up off the table and waved it at Roy. “Go ahead and give me her number. I’ll call her right now, and we’ll make plans.”
They hung out on the couch, channel surfing and listening with indulgent resignation while Marjorie and Gilda chatted and compared notes on their two sons. Then Marjorie did a load of laundry and started to pack, asking questions of Roy as she went back and forth.
Eventually she announced, “I’m off to bed. You boys stay up and watch TV, eat the rest of the ice cream, whatever you want to do. In the morning, I’ll make you breakfast before we hit the road.”
After she disappeared, they gave it another fifteen minutes, tracking the sounds of her moving between her first floor bedroom and bathroom. Since DJ knew her habits better than Roy, he gave him a slight nod when he knew she was settled in for the night.
Roy switched off the TV and rose, offering his hand to DJ. When DJ took it, he stepped close, bumping Roy with his body. Roy brushed his nose against DJ’s temple, lips there on his cheekbone, but then he stepped back. “Up the stairs,” he said.
DJ complied, aware of Roy close behind him, watching his ass literally. He hooked a finger in the back pocket of DJ’s jeans, a possessive touch. When DJ stopped at the top of the stairs and Roy stopped right behind him, he recalled the line from the Charlie Puth song “Attention.”
Now I’m all up on you…
Roy breathed against DJ’s ear. “Keep going.”
When they reached the guest room, Roy closed the door. Neither of them turned on the overhead lights. Marjorie kept nightlights in every room, this one a cow jumping over the moon.
DJ moved to the window. The barn’s tin roof gleamed in the moonlight, and he could see the empty fields that Marjorie paid to have bush hogged twice a year. Rabbits would scamper out of them at night. As a teenager, when he was troubled and couldn’t sleep, he’d sit in the window seat and watch. He guessed that was why he’d insisted on the webcam at his home. “Do you always see yourself as on the job when you’re around me? Is that why you don’t drink?”
“I have two jobs around you, DJ. Protecting you, and being your Master.”
Roy gripped DJ’s hips. DJ shuddered at the contact and the words, and leaned back into him.
“The two things have a lot of overlap,” Roy continued. “One of them being that I don’t drink for either role, and one or the other is always in play when I’m around you.”
“Do you drink at all?”
“When I’m on vacation, I’ll have a beer or two. I’m not big on losing control of my faculties.” DJ quivered as Roy set his teeth to his jugular.
“A control freak. Shocker.”
Roy chuckled and moved away, unhooking his watch to put it on the dresser. Did everything the man do have to look sexy? Not that DJ was complaining.
Roy glanced over his shoulder at him. “Because of my skillset, I’m legally seen as a weapon. If I lose my temper and harm someone, I’d be judged accordingly.”
“Like Nicholas Cage inCon Air. The Ranger thing.” DJ sat down on the end of the bed and removed his shoes and socks. “Do you think he should have stayed in the car and just driven away?”
“He knew he should have. But when you’re trained to defuse threats, you feel obligated to do it, because you don’t want it to happen when you’re not around.” He paused. “Though in that case, he let his emotions get involved.”
DJ looked down and rolled the hem of his shirt over his hands, the cotton absorbing the sudden dampness of his palms. “Are your emotions involved with protecting me?”
“Yes. Which is why I make protecting you more important than anything. Including my feelings or yours.”
Even without looking his way, DJ could feel Roy’s gaze upon him intensifying. That, and the feelings that had been simmering for the past several hours, directed his next actions. DJ slid off the bed to kneel on the floor in the position Roy had taught him. He laced his fingers behind his bowed head, keeping his spine straight and elbows back.
He saw Roy’s shoes and well-fitted jeans come into his field of vision. He closed a hand over DJ’s laced fingers, the strength of his grip pressing them together.
“What are you doing, boy?” The southern came out when Roy called him that. How was it that Roy could make him tremble so easily?
“Waiting to see what my Master wants from me.”
Roy slid his hand over the short hair and into the collar of his shirt, gripping the fabric from the inside and twisting it so he brought DJ up off his heels. Roy held him tight against him, face to his pelvis, rubbing the erection that had become temptingly evident beneath the jeans against DJ’s cheekbone and damp, parted lips.
“Tell me what you want me to want from you, Dory.”
“It’s difficult to put it in words. My mouth, on you… But I think…your mouth, on me. Because when you go down on me, it doesn’t feel like it does when I do it to you. It’s like you’re owning me with your mouth, not serving me with it, if that makes sense.”
