On the Clock (Market Garden, #8)(4)

“Yeah?” Jason held his gaze, and Blake wondered how close the guy was to licking his chops.

Blake turned his hand over and, with a single fingertip, teased the soft skin on the inside of Jason’s wrist. “Car like that fetches a lot of money. A lot.”

“Yeah, it does.” Jason shifted, as if he were trying not to squirm again, but failing miserably.

What’s that, Jason? Is that a button of yours?

Blake leaned closer, mirroring Jason’s advance from earlier. “So you can imagine that you’d want to be very careful where you invest your money with a car like that. Make sure it’s exactly the right model.” He drew his nail along the side Jason’s hand, and was rewarded with a subtle gasp and some goose bumps. “Make sure the seats are good and comfortable. High-quality leather. Smooth transmission.” He grinned. “Right?”

Jason’s Adam’s apple jumped. He didn’t speak, but nodded slightly.

“So I’m sure you understand”—Blake slid his hand free and laid it over the top of Jason’s—“the necessity of a test drive.”

Jason’s eyes met his, and from his wide pupils to his parted lips, the deal was most definitely struck. “Are you here with your own car?”

“Limo driver.”

“What about this: you’ll take me to your hotel, and if you like what you’re getting in the car, I’ll join you in your room and you pay full price.”

Blake was definitely too interested to haggle about the specifics. Jason struck him as exactly the kind of rentboy to get him over his jet lag and rev his engine, as it were. Settling on anything less was out of the question. “Deal. Let me text the driver.” He fished the cell phone from his pocket and told the driver to be at the curb.

Jason half finished his mojito, and they got up and headed toward the exit. The guard—Brandon—gave them a good-natured I told you so smile, and then they were in the alley behind Market Garden.

The driver pulled up, and Blake didn’t wait for him to open the door—he simply held it for Jason and then slid in beside him. “Back to the hotel, please.”

Jason raised the privacy screen before he turned to face him. Then he took Blake’s hand and pushed it against his stomach, right above the belt buckle, and lifted his hips up to make the invitation doubly clear.

Blake couldn’t decide where to touch him first, how far Jason would let him go and how to make the most of the maybe ten minutes they had until they arrived at the hotel. They were brushing, Jason’s legs wide open, and Blake slid his hand over the very hard cock straining against those leather pants. Long and thick too, and, mingled with the scent of the leather—he couldn’t wait to see it, taste it, feel every inch of it.

“No clothes off.” Jason’s eyes were heavy-lidded, but focused. “No orgasm.”

“You’re too much in control for that to happen after a little touching.”

Jason grinned and grabbed his tie. “Not so sure about you.” He pulled the tie knot a bit tighter. “Italian silk?”

“Uh.”

“Milan, I reckon.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a man who can analyze a tie while he’s that hard.”

Jason tugged the tie, drawing Blake to him. “Wait till you see what I can do when I’m naked.”

Oh f*ck . . .

Jason groaned, his lips nearly touching Blake’s, and Blake realized that he’d squeezed Jason’s cock harder. And obviously Jason liked it, so he did it again, which brought a string of profanity from Jason’s lips. Before Blake could comment—maybe ask how colorful his vocabulary would get when he was naked—Jason kissed him.

Well. That answered the question of whether Jason was okay with kissing on the mouth. Some of the rentboys weren’t, but Jason was . . .

Holy . . .

None of them kissed like he did. None of them. Maybe he was only making sure the test drive was good and impressive, or maybe he really was that turned on, but all the maybes and the possibilities added up to Blake nearly falling to pieces on the limo seat. Jason walked that fine line between aggressive and overbearing, inching just close enough to the latter to be hot as hell. He kept a firm grip on Blake’s tie, as if he knew exactly how much of a turn-on that was, and demanded access to Blake’s mouth. All the while, he rubbed his hard-on against Blake’s palm, as if to remind him that his hand was still on top of the clothed erection that would be his entertainment for the evening.

Jason’s palm warmed the inside of Blake’s thigh, his body heat radiating through Blake’s trousers as if they weren’t even there.

Panic rippled through Blake.

No clothes off? No orgasms?

He opened his eyes and looked past Jason at their surroundings beyond the heavily tinted windows. They were still a few minutes away from the hotel. Still a few minutes away from moving their negotiations into the lobby, the lift, the room, the bed.

And Jason’s hand was slowly—and not very subtly—sliding higher.

Yeah, Jason was controlled enough to keep himself from coming or tearing off some clothing, but Blake’s certainty about his own control was waning rapidly as Jason’s fingertips traced the inseam of his trousers.

Jason ran his whole hand over Blake’s clothed cock and balls. Blake groaned, and he couldn’t help breaking the kiss as he did. He couldn’t concentrate on things like kissing and being kissed and being halfway decent at kissing when those slender fingers were running along every inch of his uncomfortably hard dick.