On the Clock (Market Garden, #8)(19)

“Don’t you?”

“Touché.” Jason settled back against his pillow again, but kept a hand on Blake’s arm. “Sometimes, yeah, but most boyfriends don’t stick around past the whole ‘I’m almost there, wave a tenner in my face so I can come’ thing.”

Blake laughed, but quickly clapped a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”

“No, no, it’s okay.” Jason laughed too. “It’s not quite that crude, but you get the idea. The money fetish gets old, and so does the ‘I want a boyfriend, not a whore’ discussion.”

Blake winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah. So I stick to this. And as long as London is a bustling center of financial bullshit, I’ll have a steady stream of well-dressed, loaded companions.” He grinned. “Present company included.”

“Well, if you’re still at Market Garden when I’m back in town, I will definitely be looking for you.”

“I’ll be there. Unless Frank suddenly decides to shut the place down . . .” He shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Blake watched him for a moment. “From anyone else, that would almost sound sad, but from you, it doesn’t.”

“It’s not sad. I love what I do. I get paid. I get off . . .” Another shrug. “What’s not to love?”

“Coining a new definition of the term ‘job satisfaction.’ Now I hope all clients are nice.”

“Some aren’t—but these days I’m much better at spotting the over-the-top alpha type. And we whores talk. But most johns are nice. Some just don’t want to eat or go to the theater alone. A while ago, a guy paid me for company while he was getting over the flu. Picking up his medication and getting chicken soup into him was all I did.”

“Poor lonely bastard.”

“Well, yeah.” Jason shrugged. “That’s one thing I don’t want to end up as. Somebody who has nobody else to talk to and nobody gives a shit whether he lives or dies.” He kissed Blake. “Any family?”

“Not married, no children. Three siblings scattered around the States.” Blake paused. “You?”

“Siblings, parents, none anywhere near London. I’m closer to some of the other whores.”

“Speaking of which, what else did Tristan and Jared say? About me?”

“Well, that you’re hot and that you don’t get unpleasant. A very good client to have. Oh, and that you like watching.”

“I do. Especially those two. They had excellent chemistry. Still have it, I’m sure.”

“Oh, they do. They’re quite a pair.” Jason smiled. “They said you like a bit of a game, so as one game player to another, I was interested. Thought maybe I could learn some tricks.”

Blake laughed. “I don’t think I have anything to teach you.”

“You never know. But either way, they were right.” Jason trailed a finger along the front of Blake’s thigh. “You’re my kind of client.”

“Well, expect plenty of repeat business when I come back, then.”

Jason slid closer and ran his hand up Blake’s thigh, almost brushing his cock in the process. “When do you come back?”

Blake started to speak, but when Jason’s hand drifted downward again, a fingertip “accidentally” grazing his hardening cock, he shivered. “I’ll . . . be back in a month or so.”

Jason’s hand paused, and his face fell. “Damn, I was hoping it would be sooner.”

Blake chuckled and gently grasped Jason’s wrist. “I’m sure the money will hold you until I get back.” He guided Jason’s hand to his cock, gasping when Jason’s warm fingers made contact. “And I doubt you’ll have trouble finding anyone to pay you between now and then.”

“No, but . . .” Jason hesitated. He glanced down as he wrapped his fingers around Blake’s cock. Then he met Blake’s eyes again. “I’ve been enjoying this, I have to admit.”

“Me too.” Blake tipped Jason’s chin up and kissed him. “I should give you my card before I go. I can—” their lips brushed once more, screwing up his concentration for a few seconds “—I can get you in touch with people. About . . . about investments.”

“Good idea.” Jason shifted, and pushed Blake onto his back. As he climbed on top, he said, “You’re not too tired for another go-round, are you?”

“Do I look like I am?”

“Not at all.”

Blake grinned, running his hands up and down Jason’s gorgeous torso. “How much will this cost me?”

Jason’s lips quirked, and then he took Blake’s hands and pinned them to the pillow. He leaned down and kissed him. “We’ll call it a free one for the road.” Another kiss, lighter this time. “Or give me that card, and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal.” Blake wrapped his arms around Jason, and the conversation was over.





Blake had thought for a long time that Jared and Tristan would be a hard act to follow, and he’d been right. What he hadn’t anticipated was someone coming along who could hold a candle—more like a blowtorch—to what those two had done to him. He’d been back in Jersey for a week and a half, and he still caught himself spacing out and daydreaming about Jason. His personal assistant Deanna had caught him doing it a few times too, but she just laughed, rolled her eyes, and gave him whatever itinerary or message she’d come to give him.