Payoff (Market Garden, #6)(7)

“You should get—” Rolex’s breath caught as Jared ran his fingertips along the underside of his cock. “You should get on the bed.”



Tristan’s stomach twisted itself into queasy knots as he watched Jared stand up. He’d barely been able to keep himself together while Rolex and Jared had undressed, but watching them f*ck? He was going to lose his mind.

Jared paused to stretch a little—his knees were probably less than thrilled about kneeling for so long—while Rolex riffled around in a suitcase beside the bed. When the john withdrew his hand, Tristan wasn’t surprised to see a pack of condoms and a bottle of lube.

Jared turned his head and made eye contact with Tristan. Though Tristan had fought to keep his cards close to his chest all night, he had a feeling Jared saw right through him. At least enough to sense that something wasn’t right.

So Tristan forced a playful grin. “You don’t mind being watched, do you?”

Jared hesitated, but then returned the grin. “Absolutely not.” He winked, which sent a shiver through Tristan. Bloody hell, he was sexy. Rolex probably was too, and Tristan had been curious for a while about what he looked like naked, but for the moment, he didn’t notice because he was too focused on Jared.

Jared, who was climbing onto the giant bed.

Followed by Rolex.

With the condoms and lube.

Tristan gulped, willing his stomach to stop churning. This was their job. This was what they did. And they were damned good at it. Jared wasn’t involved with Rolex or any other john. This was sex. Just sex for money, like it was every night they worked.

Jared sat on his knees, facing Tristan. Rolex wrapped an arm around Jared’s waist from behind, and when Jared turned his head, their lips met. Rolex’s other hand snaked around Jared, and his fingers closed around his cock. Jared tensed a little, back arching off Rolex’s chest. Tristan forced himself not to react. Jared’s response was not a panicked one, he reminded himself. He was aroused, but somehow that reassurance did nothing to calm Tristan down.

Rolex’s hips began to move. He wasn’t f*cking Jared yet—he’d better not be, with the lube and condoms still untouched—but moved as if he were, probably rubbing his cock against Jared’s arse. Jared moaned and rocked back against him. The bed protested softly, and as they picked up speed, the footboard transferred some of that motion to Tristan, nudging the sole of his boot in perfect time with Jared and Rolex’s naked pantomime.

Tristan quickly dropped his foot to the floor. This was supposed to be hot, damn it. Watching Jared get turned on and flustered and f*cked? Absolutely sexy as hell. And Tristan did have a hard-on, one he was f*cking desperate to force into Jared’s arse. It wasn’t like this was turning him off.

It was just messing with his head and driving him insane.

“Want to feel him?” Tristan asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

Rolex looked over at him, not annoyed, just distracted, and God, but did Tristan know what it was like to have Jared that close, that needy and ready for him on the bed. He was shocked Rolex didn’t tell him to shut the hell up. “Another hundred?”

Tristan almost nodded, but corrected himself. “Two. Two hundred.”

Rolex made no move to bring out the money. He stayed right where he was, only moving to get the condom and tear open the wrapper. “You’ve seen the cash I was carrying? You guys can have the whole lot. I don’t care.” He half grinned. “You won that game, eh?”

Not . . . quite. Of course it was about the money, but the game . . . the game made Tristan feel in control. He’d enjoyed flustering Rolex in the past and making him beg for it. But Rolex wasn’t playing the power game tonight, and that was throwing Tristan off. They were going to make a big bundle, bigger than the other times maybe, but at the same time, Rolex was refusing to play. And he was calling the shots this time. And he knew it.

Jared glanced over his shoulder and reached back towards Rolex.

“Don’t worry, I got this.” Rolex positioned the condom and rolled it down.

Yes, you do. Bastard.

Tristan coughed to get his breath moving again. “Just going right for it? I can promise you, Jared’s a man who appreciates some good foreplay.”

Jared met his eyes, and, oh God, he had that look. That surrendered, blissed-out look he always had when he was this turned on. Still a little concerned, but mostly gone, lost in the anticipation of a good, hard f*ck.

A good, hard f*ck that was coming from someone else. Tristan was here, close enough to touch him, to see and hear everything, but unable to reach for Jared. Unable to do anything but sit back and let someone else taste Jared’s skin and feel the way he tensed and shuddered and rocked . . .

“He does, does he?” Rolex reached for the bottle of lube. “Well, I’ve got all the time in the world, so . . .” The click of the bottle top made Jared close his eyes and bite his lip. The room spun around Tristan, and it took all the concentration he had to at least look calm and collected. Maybe Rolex had taken away his control in their little power game, but Tristan needed to keep it together so Jared could let go. Because that was what Rolex wanted. If he had to guess, it was what Jared wanted too.

Tristan breathed slowly and evenly through his nose as he watched Rolex lubricate his fingers. Then the john put his arm around Jared’s waist again, and his other hand disappeared between them.