On the Clock (Market Garden, #8)(40)

After they’d had a chance to shower and relax a bit, Jason said, “So, you promised to show me that Lamborghini.”

“I did.” Blake grinned. “You want to take it for a spin?”

Jason licked his lips. “Right now I want to see it.” He trailed a finger along Blake’s forearm. “Don’t know that I want to, um, go anywhere just yet.”

Blake gulped. “Point taken. This way.”

If he knew Jason, a car that expensive—especially with the keys dangling out of his reach—would turn him on like nothing else. And they never had finished what they’d started in the Land Rover back at the airport.

So after he’d taken the keys off the hook in the kitchen, Blake unzipped his suitcase, which was still by the door, riffled around until he found his toiletry bag, and then slipped a condom and lube into his back pocket. Just in case.

He opened the kitchen door, turned the garage light on, and led Jason out. Carefully, he removed the heavy cover from the sports car.

The overhead lights had been specifically installed to make the car look awesome. No buzzing, unflattering fluorescents for his baby—these were sunken showroom-quality bulbs.

He folded the cover and put it on his workbench. Then he turned, and his chest swelled with pride at the sight of that bright-red beast. Someone had once told him that the best two days of a Lamborghini owner’s life were the day he bought the car and the day he sold it, but he was pretty sure that second part was bullshit. He’d had this bad boy for over a year and still got a little thrill whenever the cover came off.

Jason’s eyes were wide as he stared at the car. “Wow.” He moved closer, gazing at it reverently, and reached for it, but then jerked his hand back. “Sorry. I shouldn’t—”

“It’s a car.” Blake tapped his knuckle on the hood. “Touching it won’t hurt it. You won’t do any more damage than those f*cking rocks other cars kick up.”

Jason glanced at him, eyebrows raised, and Blake nodded. Then Jason trailed a fingertip along the sleek finish, caressing the car appreciatively. “I’ve only seen a couple of these in person before. Amazing cars.”

“You should hear her purr.”

“I believe that,” Jason breathed. “You know, I . . . I have a fantasy about, um, cars like this. One that doesn’t quite involve driving.”

“Yeah?” Blake surreptitiously double-checked his back pocket. “Tell me.”

Jason swept his tongue across his lips. “I want to be f*cked over one.”

“Is that right?”

“Uh-huh.”

Blake reached into his pocket. “Then it’s a good thing I came prepared, isn’t it?” He held up the condom and lube.

Jason’s breath hitched.

“I will gladly f*ck you over the top of this car,” Blake said. “Under one condition.”

“Tell me.”

Grinning broadly, Blake nodded downward.

Jason got the message—he went to his knees, and before he’d even reached the floor, he was already undoing the front of Blake’s pants. Blake rested a hand on the car for balance, and as his cock slid between Jason’s lips, he had to grab the car with his other hand as well.

Jason used both hands too—one steadied Blake’s cock while the other stroked it, and his mouth concentrated on the head, which drove Blake insane. Even an ocean’s worth of jet lag couldn’t keep Jason from turning him on and turning him inside out.

“Maybe we should get in the car,” Blake murmured. “Let you blow me right there in the driver’s seat.”

Jason groaned.

“Can’t . . . can’t decide what would be hotter.” Blake combed his fingers through Jason’s hair. “Watching you suck me off in the car, or . . . bending you over—”

Another groan, almost a whimper this time.

Blake licked his lips. “I f*cking love your mouth,” he slurred. “And if that’s your fantasy, you’d better believe I’m gonna f*ck you over the— Oh God . . .”

Jason’s enthusiasm almost brought Blake down to his knees too. He stroked and sucked, teasing with his lips and tongue, and when his eyes flicked up to meet Blake’s, they were wide as if to ask, Is this good enough? Is this what you want?

Oh, it was. It so was.

“G-get up.”

Jason sat back on his heels, still stroking Blake’s dick. “You don’t want—”

“You want me to f*ck you?”

Jason scrambled to his feet, and as soon as he did, Blake turned him around and pushed him up against the car door, pulled his hair back, and kissed his neck.

Jason tensed. “Are you sure this won’t—”

“You won’t damage it,” he said against Jason’s throat. “And if you do, I don’t care. Scratches can be buffed out.” He nipped beneath Jason’s ear. “Dents can be pulled.” Sliding his hands over Jason’s hips, he whispered, “And I have no qualms about explaining to the body shop exactly why my car’s all f*cked up.”

Jason opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he had to say must’ve escaped him, because he just exhaled and held on.

Blake cupped Jason’s groin and kneaded his rock-hard dick. “This really does turn you on, doesn’t it?”