“Take a break and close up for a while.” He spoke to the cloakroom attendant as though he owned the place. No, as though he owned the world. Arrogance wasn’t normally a trait I looked for in a man, but somehow his commanding douchebag routine was pushing all my buttons.
“Excuse me? I can’t just—”
He reached into the inside pocket of his tux jacket, retrieved a wad of notes, and thrust them at her. “You can. I mean it. Take. A. Break.” She hesitated for a split second, looking at the notes suspiciously before reaching for them. Then she exited her booth hurriedly, closing the serving doors as she did.
My “date” turned to me, pulling me toward the cloakroom.
“Come on.”
My moral compass told me to refuse—anonymous sex in a closet wasn’t usually my style, but then again, it was an abnormal day at the end of an epically abnormal week. Moral compass be damned! I followed him into the cloakroom.
The door was barely shut behind us before he was up against me.
“Take off your panties.”
“Wha—?”
“You heard me. I want you from behind, and I don’t need them getting in the way.”
“I’m not wearing any.” It was the truth. My slinky fitted dress didn’t leave room for underwear—not even a thong.
“Fuck. You’re killing me here.” He pounced on me then, crashing his lips to mine in a punishing kiss. It couldn’t have been more different from kissing Jonathan, and I was glad. Different from Jonathan was exactly what I needed. When we finally came up for air I was close to coming, without him even touching me below the waist.
“I want you.” My voice was thick with lust.
“I know. Turn around and brace yourself against the wall.”
As I followed his instructions, I came to my senses a little. “Condom?”
“Yeah, I have it covered.”
Thank God.
I watched him over my shoulder, admiring his junk as he sheathed up. His dick was as pretty as the rest of him. No surprises there.
He approached me, placing one hand next to one of mine on the wall, the other on my waist, and his mouth just below my ear.
“I’m gonna fuck you till you forget whatever it is you don’t want to remember.”
He pushed hard into me and made good on his promise. When my orgasm exploded through my body, I forgot everything except him.
Chapter 1
King
* * *
As the almost-too-hot water flowed over my body, I leaned one forearm on the glass shower screen, then rested my forehead on it heavily. With the other hand I gripped myself, squeezing hard and pumping fast. I scrunched my eyes shut, too, blocking out the reality of what I was doing. I hated coming this way, but I also hated going through the day with blue balls, so it was a case of a means to an end.
I hadn’t found anyone I would even vaguely consider sticking my dick into at the end of the gig the night before, so it was a rare night when I’d passed out alone after drinking way too much, and woke up the next morning with the raging boner from hell.
Well, the drinking too much part wasn’t rare, but the alone part was. I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. Still, I hated the frustrated feeling waking with unspent wood gave me, so I would rather jack off, even if was the most unsatisfying kind of orgasm in the world.
I opened my eyes just in time to see a thick stream of cum splatter onto the shower screen, and to meet a pair of dark brown eyes locked with mine.
“Jesus, Rome. What the fuck are you doing? Can’t you see I’m kind of busy right now?”
“Busy slapping your own salami? Who cares? Nothing I haven’t seen a billion times before, and I need to pee.” He shrugged nonchalantly.
He was right. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, one way or another. We always shared an adjoining suite for exactly that reason. Not to watch each other come, but because there were no secrets between us. No boundaries to speak of, either. And it was easier to be able to access each other’s rooms when we needed to, than to be in different rooms, maybe even on separate floors.
When an idea popped into our heads, we needed to thrash it out while it was fresh and raw, not to have to hunt the other person down, probably forgetting what the fuck we’d intended to say, and ending up pissed off and frustrated.
This way, we pretty much always knew where to find the other person, and if that meant we occasionally stumbled in on them jerking off, neither of us really gave a damn. As for watching each other fuck, that was an entirely different matter. We’d purposely witnessed that more times than most people had broken bread with their friends. The shock factor had worn off years ago.
Now it had less impact than seeing Rome brush his teeth or tune his cello. In fact, I’d be more shocked to see him giving a fuck, and taking a professional approach to his work, than I would to see him screwing. He definitely applied himself way more to the second task than the first, although he was arguably as talented at the former as the latter. However, Rome’s interests and his strengths were two very different things.
He was one of the most horrifically gifted people I’d ever met—the physical embodiment of the saying that some people were born with an unfair amount of talent. It was almost unbelievable, as was the fact that his natural ability was inversely proportional to the fucks he gave about said talent. He routinely did the bare minimum he could get away with—which for someone with his gifts was laughably little—but he still always came out on top, no matter what.
I was the opposite. I was the physical embodiment of the fact that with a decent, but not excessive, amount of talent, and the recommended ten thousand hours of training required to reach virtuosic proportions in any discipline, great things could happen. Well, not great, but pretty fucking good. Except it had probably been more like twenty thousand hours, and I still wasn’t as good as Rome if he never practiced a day. He’d probably come out of the womb playing as well as I did as a grown man, with years of the best classical training that money could buy.
“Well take your fucking piss, and stop ogling my junk.”
“What, so you can ogle mine?”
“Ha! You wish. Nope. I’m gonna have to take another shower to wash away the fact that I just came while staring into your eyes. Pee, and get out before I lose my shit.”
“Hahahaha! Okay Waspy Boy, I’m shaking in my boots.” His lips quirked into his signature smirk, and I fought the urge to swipe it from his face.
“Eat a dick.”
“That’s the best offer I’ve had all morning. Open the door, I’m coming in.”
Christ. He was a pain in my left ball. I loved and hated him in equal measure, most days. I cupped my hands and splashed water over the top of the shower at him. While he laughed maniacally, I turned my back on him and got on with showering for the second time.
He wasn’t going to leave me in peace as long as I kept engaging him in banter. The only way to get him to go away was to freeze him out, and even that approach was only ever partially successful. I did have a few tricks up my sleeve from years of dealing with him, though.
“Remember we have that meeting with the label later. Maybe try not to dress like a street urchin this time.” I knew exactly what buttons to press to piss him off.