If It Drives (Market Garden, #7)(32)

“A little faster,” Cal taunted.

James released a strangled sound, but he obeyed, stroking just a little faster.

Watching James’s forearm, Cal decided those toned muscles could be rippling a bit more. “Harder.”

James pressed his lips together but obeyed, and Cal’s blood pumped faster as exertion brought out even more definition in James’s arm. He stepped towards him, not being subtle at all about watching James’s hand. “Tell me what you were thinking about during your meeting today.”

“My—” James’s hand faltered. “My meeting?”

Cal walked past him, sliding his fingertips across James’s abs and licking his lips when the muscles contracted beneath his touch. “Or are you going to tell me it was all business?”

“It was . . .” James exhaled hard. He glanced down as if he needed the visual reminder of what his hand was supposed to be doing. “It was difficult to concentrate.”

“Is that right?” Cal watched his own fingers trail down James’s arm, the soft touch making the muscles twitch and screwing up James’s rhythm. “Why was that, James?”

“Kept thinking. About . . . about you. This.”

“This?” Cal ran the backs of his fingers down James’s forearm. “Were you fantasising about what we’d do when we got here?”

Eyes shut tight, James nodded. “Y-yes.”

“Tell me.” He took his hand off James’s skin, which seemed to jar him and mess up his rhythm again. “What did you think we’d do when we got here?”

James shook his head. “Dunno. I just wanted . . . it to feel like it did in the car.”

“Did you want to suck me off again?”

James was quiet for a moment. He opened his eyes, again glancing down at his hand on his cock. “If . . . if that’s what you wanted.”

The words pushed the breath out of Cal’s lungs. God, James really did want this, didn’t he? The orders, the domination. Nerves tingled at the base of Cal’s spine, and an uneasy feeling fluttered in his chest; was he cut out to do this for James? To be exactly what he needed?

He banished the thought. Of course he was. Otherwise James’s admission wouldn’t have sent that little thrill through him at the same time.

“I think I want you to f*ck me.”

James’s head snapped up and his hand stopped abruptly. “What?”

Cal arched an eyebrow. He glanced at James’s hand.

Quickly, James started stroking himself again, groaning with frustration.

“You heard me.” Cal stepped behind James. He wrapped his arm around his waist and let his other hand slide down the arm that was furiously working at obeying Cal’s undoubtedly aggravating command. With his hand on James’s wrist, the rhythm of James’s strokes reverberating through his own arm, Cal whispered, “I want you to f*ck me.”

James whimpered softly.

Cal kissed the back of his shoulder. “I want you to put on one of those condoms I sent you out to buy. I want you to lube it up.” He raised his chin so his lips almost touched James’s ear. “And I want you to f*ck me, James.”

James shuddered so violently, Cal thought he might have come, but his hand kept moving.

Cal squeezed his wrist. “Stop.”

James obeyed immediately.

“Just because you’re f*cking me, though,” Cal murmured in James’s ear. “Make no mistake: I am in charge. Understood?”

James nodded.

“Understood?”

“Yes.”

Cal lifted his hands to his shirt, then thought better of it. Damn, decades of habits didn’t die easily. He stood at ease, then lifted his arms halfway. “Undress me. Show me what it means to you.”

What it means to you? Holy shit, that was pretty damn good.

James gave a small needy sound, which meant he shared the sentiment.

Not missing Nick now, are you?

But the pang of jealousy changed to a secret pleasure in the conspiracy with Nick in a mere moment. Nick wasn’t the enemy. Nick was the best f*cking ally he’d ever had. He’d delivered James to him on a silver platter—the guy who’d just knelt down to untie Cal’s shoelaces with a focus and attention that was out of proportion for the simple act and yet was doing exactly what Cal had ordered.

Show me what it means to you.

Cal allowed James to carefully lift his leg and slip the shoe off one foot, then the other. Socks, too, James’s fingers all gentle, not rushing, yet working efficiently. Cal reached down to touch James’s head, so tempted to cut this short or at least adjust himself, but he had to be in control—for James, for himself—because otherwise he would beg for it, and that was not the plan tonight.

James stood again, and Cal tried not to notice that removing his shoes had also diminished his height. He didn’t need to be as tall as James to dominate him. Another lesson he’d learned from Nick and Spencer.

Raising his chin slightly, he watched James’s eyes, but James wasn’t looking at him. He focused intently on unbuttoning Cal’s shirt, his fingers moving quickly but carefully. The stark naked businessman obediently undressing his chauffeur; could this evening get any more surreal?

When James reached the last button above Cal’s waistband, he unbuckled Cal’s belt. He carefully slid it free and set it aside, arranging each piece of Cal’s clothing in a much neater pile than he had his own.