Payoff (A Market Garden Tale) Read online

Jared arched and groaned, wrapped his legs around him and pulled him into a hungry kiss while Tristan began to roll his hips, using all the self-control he had to deliver exactly what he knew Jared liked.

  And how to get exactly what he wanted: Jared. Just Jared. His kiss, his body, him. Though Tristan was aware of the third man in the room, and aware of why they were all there, he let himself ignore the client, the objective, the money. Now that the air was clear between them, he could move inside Jared and touch him and kiss him without being certain that everything was this close to disaster.

  To his side, Rolex moved and slid closer, running his hands along Tristan’s back. “Okay if I touch you?”

  Tristan wanted to shrug him off and be alone with Jared, but this was Rolex. One of the hottest johns they’d ever played with, and as it turned out, a damned sweet one, too. He’d been good to them when Tristan had freaked out. He deserved better, and if there was anyone left in the world who Tristan didn’t mind sharing with . . .

  “Yeah.” Tristan gave him a long glance and grinned. “Touch me all you like.”

  Rolex found the lube and slicked up his fingers, and part of Tristan almost lost it when he realised what the man was planning. What the man did.

  Because, damn, when Rolex’s strong fingers slid into his ass and began to fuck him, he did almost lose it. Second-best thing to getting fucked, but the margin was tiny because Rolex knew exactly what he was doing, adding a second finger quickly and nailing his prostate.

  Between fucking Jared and being fingered by Rolex, Tristan was in a heaven he’d forgotten existed at all. Weeks’ worth of apprehension had melted away, all his cable-tight muscles relaxed, and his worries no longer kept him from surrendering completely to this. To fucking, being fucked, touching, being touched. Being all tangled up in Jared and not the least bit jealous of the man who was there with them.

  He tried to kiss Jared again, but couldn’t remember how. All he could do was move. Move inside Jared, move back against Rolex’s hand—he was too overwhelmed for anything else.

  Jared still had his wits about him, though. He grabbed Tristan’s face in both hands and kissed him hard. A shiver went through Tristan. His body may as well have had a mind of its own—his hips knew what they were doing, and his mouth figured out what it was doing, and his mind was just . . . liquid.

  “Bet he’s going to come,” Rolex said with a grin in his voice. “Aren’t you, Tristan?”

  Tristan just moaned and kept kissing Jared, and fucking him, and riding Rolex’s hand. Rolex was right—he was going to come. Any bloody second, he was going to lose it. He desperately wanted to make Jared come first, but between him and Rolex, Tristan was a goner. He couldn’t hold back. Couldn’t do a thing except move . . . fuck . . . kiss . . .

  And come.

  He broke the kiss with a gasp. Thrust all the way inside Jared. Shuddered hard.

  And Rolex kept fingering him, drawing out his orgasm while Jared rocked his hips and did the same. Someone pinched his nipple. Jared, maybe? He didn’t care. He just didn’t fucking care.

  At some point, Rolex pulled out of him, and he pulled out of Jared and rolled over to the other side, breathless and speechless, though one thought was left, so he reached over and took Jared’s cock. With his free hand, he waved Rolex closer and kissed him when he followed, the shared kiss over Jared now a lot more languid than it had been earlier. Rolex’s hand found Jared’s balls. Their fingers touched by accident, and then by design, making Jared squirm harder.

  “Bloody . . . hell . . .” Jared’s voice was tight and laced with pure lust and a fair bit of desperation, and then he, too, came all over both their hands.

  As he caught his breath, Jared murmured, “Wish I’d brought my fucking mobile along.” He swept his tongue across his lips. “That was hot.”

  Rolex laughed. “Good way to get fired, showing up in amateur porn.”

  “Amateur? Speak for yourself. I was pretty damn good.” Tristan glared at him, but they all dissolved into laughter at the patently absurd situation.

  Jared rolled his eyes. “Was a bit of a rocky start there, though.” He stretched out on the bed, looking completely sated. “Somebody pour me into a bottle and get me home. Not sure I have any bones left.”

  Rolex laughed again and kissed Jared lightly. “There’s no rush to leave. The two of you can stay as long as you like.” Humour faltering a bit, he turned to Tristan. “Unless you need to go.”

  Earlier, Tristan couldn’t have escaped this place soon enough. Now, he rather liked lying on the bed with Rolex and Jared, all three of them satisfied and—most importantly—the air cleared with Jared.

  “We’re not in any hurry.” He trailed his fingertips down the middle of Jared’s abs, watching them contract beneath his light touch. “You’re the client, after all.”

  “True.” Rolex’s brow creased. “Do I get the impression I won’t be a client again in the future?”

  Tristan glanced at Jared, whose gaze was fixed on Tristan, eyebrows up. To Rolex, Tristan said, “I don’t know. I’m not sure I have it in me to keep doing this.”

  “It’s a shame.” Rolex smiled. He paused, then quickly added, “But I can understand no one wants to stay in this business forever. Especially if you’re”—he gestured at Jared, then Tristan—“otherwise engaged.”

  Jared chuckled. “Well, we didn’t say we were engaged.”

  Tristan laughed.

  Rolex rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah.” Jared reached up and stroked Tristan’s hair. To Rolex, he said, “When you come to town again, we might not be there. We’ll . . . we’ll play it by ear.”

  “Guess I’ll have to find someone else for my London trips.” Rolex sounded amused, but also genuinely disappointed.

  Tristan kept teasing Jared’s abs, but looked at Rolex. “You like paying for it, don’t you?”

  Rolex’s cheeks coloured. “Probably more than a respectable man should, but . . .” He shrugged with one shoulder. “I do get a bit of a kick out of it.”

  Tristan and Jared exchanged glances. Both grinned.

  Jared turned to Rolex. “In that case, we’ve got someone who might be right up your alley.”

  Rolex perked up. “Is that right?”

  “Yep.” Tristan flashed him a grin. “When you come back next time, go to the Garden and ask for Jason.”

  “You think he’s my type?”

  “Ooh, yeah,” Jared said. “Definitely.”

  It was nearly one in the morning when Jared, legs still not completely cooperative, left the suite with Tristan and a thick wad of cash. He was exhausted, but it had been a great night. Never a dull moment with Rolex, and resolving things with Tristan had lifted a huge weight off his shoulders.

  “So you really want to quit?” he asked as they waited for the lift.

  Tristan exhaled. “I want to be with you.” He turned towards Jared. “I’d be happier if we both quit, but . . .”

  Smiling, Jared slipped his hand into Tristan’s. “Well, we made enough tonight to tide us over for the time being.”

  Tristan chuckled. “Yeah, we did. Maybe we can use some of it and go away for a while.”

  “Go away?” Jared tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

  “A holiday.” Tristan caressed his cheek. “Just the two of us.”

  Grinning, Jared asked, “You thinking of any place in particular?”

  “Not really.” Tristan shrugged, a mouthwatering grin slowly spreading across his lips as his arm snaked around Jared’s waist. “Just you, a room, and a decent-sized bed.” His voice was barely a whisper as he added, “That’s all I want.”

  Jared lifted his chin and kissed Tristan lightly. “I love the sound of that.”

  The lift arrived and the doors opened. They stepped in, and Jared hit the button for the ground floor.

  As the doors closed again, Tristan said, “I’m sorry, by the way. For—”

  “Don’t.” Jared wrapped his a
rms around him and kissed him. “It’s sorted. I’m just glad I know what was bothering you.”

  Tristan touched Jared’s cheek again. “Still, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all forgiven.” Jared put his hand over Tristan’s. “So, if you’re serious about quitting, and going on holiday together and all of that, does that mean you want, um, for us to . . .”

  “For us to be serious?”

  Heart beating faster, Jared nodded.

  Tristan smiled. He didn’t say a word. He just cupped Jared’s face and drew him into a long, tender kiss.

  And Jared had his answer.

  Quid Pro Quo

  Take It Off

  If It Flies

  If It Fornicates

  Capture & Surrender

  If It Drives (Coming Soon)

  A Chip in His Shoulder

  O Come All Ye Kinky

  Something New Under the Sun

  Finding Master Right

  Unhinge the Universe, with Aleksandr Voinov

  Covet Thy Neighbor (A Tucker Springs Novel)

  After the Fall (A Tucker Springs Novel)

  Conduct Unbecoming

  From Out in the Cold

  For a full list, please visit http://www.loriawitt.com

  Scorpion (Memory of Scorpions, #1)

  Skybound

  Incursion

  Gold Digger

  Country Mouse, with Amy Lane

  City Mouse, with Amy Lane

  Unhinge the Universe, with L.A. Witt

  Dark Soul Vols. 1–5

  Break and Enter, with Rachel Haimowitz

  Dark Edge of Honor, with Rhi Etzweiler

  The Lion of Kent, with Kate Cotoner

  Coming Soon:

  Lying with Scorpions (Memory of Scorpions, #2)

  A Taste of Poison (Memory of Scorpions, #3)

  For a full list, go to www.aleksandrvoinov.com/bookshelf.html

  L.A. Witt is an abnormal M/M romance writer currently living in the glamorous and ultra-futuristic metropolis of Omaha, Nebraska, with her husband, two cats, and a disembodied penguin brain that communicates with her telepathically. In addition to writing smut and disturbing the locals, L.A. is said to be working with the US government to perfect a genetic modification that will allow humans to survive indefinitely on Corn Pops and beef jerky. This is all a cover, though, as her primary leisure activity is hunting down her arch nemesis, erotica author Lauren Gallagher, who is also said to be lurking somewhere in Omaha. L.A. can be found at http://www.loriawitt.com, as well as exchanging irreverent tweets with Aleks as @GallagherWitt.

  Aleksandr Voinov is an emigrant German author living near London, where he is one of the unsung heroes in the financial services sector. His genres range from horror, science fiction, cyberpunk, and fantasy to contemporary, thriller, and historical erotic gay novels.

  In his spare time, he goes weight lifting, explores historical sites, and meets other writers. He single-handedly sustains three London bookstores with his ever-changing research projects. His current interests include special forces operations during World War II, preindustrial warfare, European magical traditions, and how to destroy the world and plunge it into a nuclear winter without having the benefit of nuclear weapons.

  Visit Aleksandr’s website at http://www.aleksandrvoinov.com, his blog at http://www.aleksandrvoinov.blogspot.com, and follow him on Twitter, where he tweets as @aleksandrvoinov.

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