If It Drives (Market Garden, #7)(28)

“Just like that,” he whispered, and James gave him even more, stroking harder with his hand and teasing the head of Cal’s cock with his tongue. The blowjob, the power, the gorgeous man kneeling in front of him—Cal had to grip the headrest behind him to anchor himself.

He blinked his eyes into focus and watched James. Watched his own fingers alternately running through James’s hair and gripping the back of his neck. Watched a shiver visibly run through the man.

Remember, you’re in control, and he needs to know that. Constantly.

Cal swallowed, and somehow managed to speak. “That’s perfect, James.” He ran his fingertips across the back of James’s neck. “Keep doing that, just like that, and I’ll reward you later.”

A moan bordering on a whimper vibrated against Cal’s cock, and he closed his eyes, too close to the edge to even think about speaking, or thinking, or—

Best reward for a sub? His Dom’s pleasure and approval.

“Fuck, yes,” he ground out, and shuddered hard as he came in James’s mouth. He dug his fingers into James’s scalp, gripped the headrest with his other hand, arched off the seat . . . God, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d come this hard from a blowjob.

When it became too much, he gently nudged James away. James sat back on his heels, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, and met Cal’s eyes.

Breathing hard, Cal tucked himself back in and zipped up his trousers. Then he leaned forwards and touched James’s face. “That was perfect.”

James smiled, and relaxed slightly, as if he’d been waiting for that approval so he could release his breath.

Cal kissed him lightly. Then he sat back. “Get yourself straightened up. You have to be at your meeting soon.”

James blinked. “My . . . oh. Right.” He cleared his throat and tugged at his sleeve. “We should head over there.”

“We should.” Cal handed James back his watch, but before he let it go, said, “You did well. For that, I’m going to f*ck you later.”

James’s lips parted. When Cal let go of the watch, James nearly dropped it, fumbling with both hands.

Cal just grinned, buckled his belt, and stepped out of the car.

Thankfully, driving was damn near instinctive now, so he got them both to Threadneedle Street in one piece.

James busied himself with his papers, quickly rearranging the folders in his briefcase. When Cal pulled up and opened the door for him, James seemed reluctant to leave the car. Maybe he was giving his hard-on a chance to come down?

He stood though, and paused, facing Cal. Cal schooled his features, but he couldn’t help a smile tugging at his lips. He’d have to ask Nick how to perfect that poker face, but damn, he liked the heat in James’s gaze. It was almost a challenge—or was it an intense look in a situation that didn’t allow a touch or even very many words?

“When will you need me again, sir?” Well, James might not feel like he could play, but Cal sure could.

James’s eyes widened in surprise. “I need you immediately, Callum, but that’s not an option.”

“Damn,” Cal murmured back. “Actual times?”

“I’ll text you.”

“Very well, sir.”

James rushed towards the entrance, and Cal chuckled. He got in the car again and ran some errands—dry-cleaning, shopping in one of the express shops catering to the office drone population of the financial district. He had lunch with his uncle and aunt, had the air pressure on the tyres checked, and then settled in one of the numerous coffee shops in the city to write. He spent some time on the last few chapters of his sci-fi novel, writing longhand for a couple hours, and then went back and cleaned up last week’s writing.

He was halfway through an incredibly messy scene involving his main characters and a bar brawl that was getting deliciously out of hand when his mobile buzzed.

20 min, please.

Please? That was an unusual addition. Cal smiled and texted that he was on his way. Then he scooped up all his papers and left the coffee shop.

Though he was about fifteen minutes from where the meeting had been held, he didn’t rush. He knew the drill with these guys. James himself was punctual as hell, but the same couldn’t be said for the men he worked with. Twenty minutes meant thirty-five. If James had said forty-five minutes, Cal could have gone and had a full-body massage, edited a chapter, and still had time to stand outside waiting for the meeting to wrap up.

But when he pulled up this time, James was on the pavement. He was standing with some other guys, each of them holding leather briefcases that probably cost as much as Nick’s Dom lessons, and as soon as he saw the limo, James excused himself from the conversation. By the time Cal was out of the car, James was already beside the rear door.

“I thought you’d be a few more minutes.” Cal reached for the door handle. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting, sir.”

James smiled. “It’s all right.” He started to get in, but paused, one foot in the car and one hand on top of the door. “I have one other . . . appointment this afternoon.”

Cal shrugged. “All right. The address?”

“Sixty-six Knightsbridge.”

Cal nodded. They exchanged smiles, though James’s was somehow . . . odd, before James finished getting into the car.