Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
He obviously did, too, judging by the way he writhed beneath me as I licked and kissed his chest. When I grabbed his hands and pinned them to the sofa on either side of his head, he murmured, “Fuck, yes.”
I told him, “Don’t move from that position,” and a soft moan slid from his lips. It was so satisfying to watch him throughout all of this. It was the only time he dropped his guard and let go of some of his self-consciousness.
I used his precome as lube as I began to jerk him off. Over the past couple of weeks I’d been learning exactly what he liked, and edging him always produced a huge reaction. I brought him to the brink twice, easing him down again before finally bending down and sucking him. Moments later, he cried out, arching off the couch as he shot down my throat.
Even though he was thoroughly wiped out afterwards, he murmured, “Your turn,” and started to sit up.
I gently pushed him back down and wrapped myself around him, since it was cold in here. “Just relax, baby. We’ll worry about me next time.”
“What time is it?”
“It’s probably five-thirty. The construction crew works seven to four on Fridays, and it’s been about ninety minutes since Steve took off.”
“Don’t you have your phone?”
“No, it’s on my desk.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
A teasing grin curled the corner of Tracy’s mouth. “I don’t think you’ve ever been more than two feet from your phone before.” I chuckled at that, and when he said, “We should get going,” I got up and retrieved his clothes.
He pulled his phone from the pocket of his jeans and checked the time, and I asked, “Was I right?”
“Yes. It’s exactly five-thirty.”
“I’m going to go get my things and shut off the lights. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
By the time I returned, Tracy was fully dressed and gathering the suit and the rest of his outfit for that evening. As I selected a suit for myself, he asked, “Are you absolutely sure you want to come along?”
I turned to look at him. “Will it make you feel better if I’m there?” He seemed embarrassed as he ducked his head and nodded. “Then I’m definitely coming.”
At ten minutes to eight, an efficient valet whisked away my SUV, and we stepped into the lobby of an upscale high-rise hotel near the Financial District. It was sleek and modern, with gold-on-gold seasonal decorations that were more about style than holiday cheer.
Tracy was fidgeting with a gift bag, which contained the nice bottle of twenty-year-old Scotch we’d bought on the way here. We’d decided to go with a fancy version of what he usually got his dad for Christmas, since we couldn’t think of anything else.
He turned to me and asked, “Do I look alright?”
I ran my hands down his biceps and murmured, “You’re absolute perfection.” Seeing him dressed in my clothes did something to me. It was almost like I’d marked him as mine… even though that had no basis in reality.
His dad was already at the restaurant when we arrived. After the hostess led us to our table, Tracy and his father shook hands. To me, that seemed surprisingly formal. Then Tracy said, “Dad, I’d like you to meet my friend Everett Daley. Ever, this is my father, Hector Garcia.”
His father and I studied each other curiously as we shook hands. He was about six-three with a heavyset build, a graying crew cut, and brown eyes like Tracy’s. He’d opted for a tan suit and tie—which was probably making Tracy regret switching from his original gift—and he seemed uncomfortable. I didn’t know if that had to do with me, his son, or the environment we were in.
“I had no idea this place was so swanky,” his dad muttered, as we all took a seat. “Otherwise, I would have suggested meeting somewhere else.”
I said, “We could still go to a different restaurant, sir.”
“Call me Hector, and we’re already here. Let’s just make the best of it.”
Tracy, meanwhile, seemed to have totally shut down. His posture was rigid, and he kept his gaze locked on the white tablecloth. When a waiter came by to take our drink order, his father and I both ordered wine, but he stuck with water. After an awkward pause, his father asked him, “Where are you working now?”
“I’m still a program assistant at the shelter.”
“That’s an awfully nice suit for someone who works at a nonprofit.”
“It’s borrowed. I didn’t have anything to wear to a place like this.”
“I didn’t realize it was going to be so fancy.”
“I know.”
After a moment, Hector ventured, “You know, the Army offers a lot of high-paying contractor positions for civilians. With my connections, I could get you an interview, no problem.”
“No, thank you. I like what I’m doing.”