Take It Off (Market Garden, #2)(4)

“He’s . . . he’s good.”

Tristan could see that—Rolex sure wasn’t shy about sucking cock, fitting almost all of Jared’s into his mouth on the downstroke, and he used his hand to add friction.

“Come on. Good?” Tristan moistened his lips and leaned forwards, elbows on his knees. “Good means nothing.” I’ll give you better than good. “Is he going to make you come?”

Jared nodded, getting seriously breathless now. He wasn’t faking it, either. Jared could fake it well enough to satisfy the most mediocre john, but he obviously enjoyed what Rolex was doing, and he wasn’t going to last much longer. He normally had more stamina, would be more controlled, but he was throwing himself into this at full speed. “If he k-keeps it up like that, I’m gonna blow.”

Tristan changed seats, sitting beside Jared, eyes on the john, who, yeah, glanced at him over Jared’s dick between his lips. Tristan grinned. “You going to let him?”

Rolex made a low sound, a groan that was almost a growl, and doubled his efforts on Jared’s cock. Jared whimpered softly, and Tristan couldn’t resist—he slid a hand around the side of Jared’s neck and kissed him. Jared grabbed his shoulder, holding on as he kissed Tristan back. He was breathless, his skin hot, and he wasn’t doing that gentle, teasing kiss that drove Tristan out of his mind. He was demanding, forceful, making Tristan wonder if he’d wind up coming himself before the car stopped.

Jared tensed. He pulled in a breath through his nose, and his grip on Tristan’s shoulder was almost painful, fingers twitching and digging in harder. Though his eyes were closed, Tristan could feel Jared’s body moving beside him, hips thrusting as much as this position would allow, legs shaking.

The car slowed a little, and must have turned because everyone’s center of gravity shifted slightly. The motion pushed Jared against Tristan, and then he tensed again, and shuddered, and Tristan kissed him even more aggressively because it was the only way to keep his mind off how f*cking jealous he was that it was Rolex, not him, tasting Jared’s orgasm.

The car stopped.

Tristan broke the kiss. Jared slumped back against the seat with a soft, satisfied sigh.

At Jared’s feet, Rolex sat up, the gold watch beneath his sleeve catching the light as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. A hint of sweat glittered at his hairline, and like Jared, he was out of breath.

“We’re here.” He rested a hand on Jared’s knee. “Let’s go inside.”



They’d just arrived at the hotel, and Jared could barely stand up. Making out with Tristan while getting his dick sucked? There were few things in the world that could make him come harder than that. And Rolex’s oral skills on their own were nothing to sneeze at either.

He stepped out of the limo behind Tristan and Rolex, pausing to get his legs under him. Tristan glanced at him, another odd expression on his face.

C’mon, Tristan. Don’t start. Not now.

But then Tristan slid his arm around Jared’s waist, steadying him, and they continued towards the hotel lobby. They’d been to this hotel before—together, alone, with Rolex, with other johns—but he had to admit, he was glad for the guidance towards the lift. His head was still spinning too much to navigate anything more complex or less familiar than his own flat. Or Tristan’s.

The lift doors opened, and Rolex gestured for them to go in ahead of him. Then he pressed the button for his floor, slid in his key card, and—

Tristan kissed Jared.

He pushed him right up against the wall of the lift, hard, leather-covered cock pressed against his hip, and kissed him.

Jared was almost too dazed to kiss back, but he could trust his body to respond. Tristan immediately thrust his tongue into his mouth, and Jared didn’t even think of resisting, though it was weird that Tristan was getting so rough here without first pulling some money out of the john for the show.

“Leave me some.” Rolex touched Tristan’s shoulder, brushing Jared’s fingers, and from how Tristan’s body tensed there for a moment, Jared almost expected Tristan to shrug him off.

Don’t. That would be too . . . weird. Yes. Weird.

Tristan opened his eyes and all but glared at Jared before he broke away.

Was that for me? Or Rolex?

A second before things would’ve become unbearably awkward, the lift dinged.

Rolex herded them down the corridor until they got to a door. He swiped the key card, and the lock’s LED flashed green on the first try.

“Sweet home away from home.” Rolex let Jared and Tristan go in first, then followed and hung up the “do not disturb” sign. This was one of the more upscale rooms; pretty large overall, and even the bed could easily hold three people. Especially three people who didn’t mind getting really close.

Rolex looked around, then grabbed an armchair from the corner and dragged it over to the foot of the bed. He nodded to Tristan. “Why don’t you take off your jacket and shirt and sit for a moment?”

Tristan eyed the chair, the bed, and only then the john, as if he came a very distant third in terms of priorities. “It’ll cost you.”

Rolex shrugged. “I can afford it.” He nodded sharply towards the chair. “Sit.”

Tristan’s eyebrows rose. Normally, Jared would’ve had to smother a laugh at someone attempting to tell his partner what to do, but the irritation that flashed in Tristan’s eyes kept Jared’s humour in check. No doubt about it: something wasn’t right. Jared was tempted to bail, apologise to Rolex, and drag Tristan out with him so they could settle this before it got out of hand.