By CLARE LONDON (11 page)

And perhaps I just thought too much.

I flipped the button and zip of my jeans and slipped a hand inside. I wanted to touch my swollen cock. Yeah, I wanted Seve, but above all, I wanted the friction. I gasped with relief and started to rub myself up and down as teasingly and as slowly as I could stand. My eyes were half-closed with the relief, but I knew Seve was watching me. In the shadows of the car interior, he rolled over and braced himself on one arm, looking down on me.

“Seve,” I murmured. His name sounded good on my lips.

“Take them off,” he whispered. “Keep touching yourself, but take the jeans off.”

It was a challenge, but I somehow managed to wriggle the jeans and boxers down my legs and to pull one foot out. I could move more freely now. I stretched out on the seat, then bent the leg nearest the window at the knee, and arranged myself in a better grip. The windows were steaming up nicely, and I was panting heavily again as I worked myself toward completion. The car rocked underneath me.

“Going to come soon.” I sighed. “You just going to watch?”

“No,” came the whispered reply. He seemed to have recovered his composure. Possibly his libido as well—I had no idea what sort of stamina he had. “Turn over, face toward the window. On your side.”

More wriggling until I lay on my side, watching the window, opaque with our lusty breath and spattered with channels of heavy rain. I kept pumping—I was leaking all over my hand, and the movement was slick and fast now. Then I felt Seve’s hand close over mine and I paused for a second.

“Keep going.” His mouth was at my ear. He nipped at my lobe, and the sudden pain jarred with the increasing pleasure. He moved my hand aside, then ran his own up and down my length a couple of times, cupping his hand over my tip so that I gasped aloud with the sensation. Then I realized what he was doing—he was collecting the precome on his fingers. My heart nearly stopped with excited anticipation.

“Keep going, I said.”

I did. I wasn’t far off climax now. And then I felt it—Seve’s fingers up between my cheeks, ghosting at my hole and teasing the soft skin behind my balls. I strained to reach him, strained to receive him. His fingertip slid into me.

“Fuck. That’ll do it.” I groaned in extra emphasis. Even as he probed for my prostate, his palm flat against my skin and another finger seeking entrance, I felt the uncontrollable throb in my cock. The seed burst out over my belly and his hand, dripping onto the seat. I shuddered and moaned, and the car’s suspension bounced under me.

Seve’s soft chuckle tickled my ear.

Still moaning, I slid down from my climax. Calm returned to my spinning senses. But Seve was still fingering me. He’d dragged himself half off his seat and half into the space between us, which must have been damned uncomfortable. I dreaded to think where the gear stick was resting. His chest pressed against my back, and I could feel his thighs nudging hard against the backs of mine. Should I suggest moving into the backseat for anything more? I could feel the heat of him behind me now, the thick, solid column of his cock rubbing up against my arse. He must have pulled his own jeans down, because I couldn’t feel that nagging nuisance that was his zip. Just hot, firm flesh. He prised his knee in between my thighs, lifting my upper leg until it hung over his hip.

“Here?” I gasped.

“Now.” His voice was hoarse.

Even as I wondered what the hell lube he was going to use and how in God’s name I was going to get my leg far enough over on this narrow seat, or if my cock had any appetite left after basking in the afterglow of its climax—he slid the second finger into me. It was wet and warm with my come, and I moaned with need. Stretching my upper leg up and forward so that my knee banged on the inside of the door, I grabbed the handle as an anchor. My nose was squished up against the upholstery. I heard Seve flip open the glove compartment and then fumble with a condom. When his cock came back up against me, it was cool and still almost dry. Not like that, you don’t. “Use my come,” I hissed. “The rest of it.” No one was going to rip me apart, however much I wanted him.

Seve crawled his fingers around to my groin, where a sticky puddle had dribbled from my navel to my pubic hair. He scooped up what was there: a generous handful. I lay still, bracing my limbs, listening to the upholstery squeak as Seve shifted and rubbed my seed over his cock. The flesh would be red-angry; he’d be impatient. I could imagine every detail going on behind my back. My own skin was tingling back to life at the thought. Then he rolled hard against me again, gripping my waist, forcing his hip under my upper thigh. And he pushed his cock into me.

I’ve always liked being bottom, though with Seve I hadn’t had the option of anything else yet. But I wasn’t bothered right now, because it was so damn good. It was briefly painful, there wasn’t much room to maneuver, and my leg started shaking from the tension of holding it up and out of the way. But Seve must have recovered quickly from my sucking, because it took him only a few minutes of thrusting into me before he came again. Just a few minutes, plenty of stifled groans, and more abuse to the car’s suspension.

I was half-erect, but to be honest, the way I was cramped against the side of the car wasn’t conducive to another climax. When he shuddered inside me and finished, I let him ease himself out and fall back onto his seat. Something creaked, and I didn’t know if it was the gear stick or the steering column. Or me. My hard-on was dreaming of past glories, but very shortly they’d sink away to mere memories.

“You’re amazing.” The words were spoken almost dreamily. It didn’t sound like Seve’s bold, aggressive tone at all. And that was more or less the only way I’d ever heard him.

I was shaken. I wasn’t sure he’d meant me to hear it.

For what seemed like a long time, I was silent, staring at the black rectangle of the car’s window. Seve was too. It was as if neither of us knew what to say. I listened to his breathing beside me, and when I glanced over, I could see his chest rising and falling. His face was turned up to the roof of the car and his eyes were closed. I should have felt at peace like that too. Lively sex, a fantastic climax, no irritating postcoital chattering.

But my mind was in turmoil. I wanted to sleep; I never wanted to sleep again. I wanted to touch him; I wanted to push him away. I wanted just to hold him… to hear his voice… to listen to his laugh. Then to fight the fascination he awoke in me. I was an emotional mess, and it wasn’t just a result of the sex.

I also realized I wanted to leave.

“Take me back to town,” I said. My voice was stark in the cold, clear air. The car was chilled by the rain, and our bodies were starting to shiver.

“What?”

“Take me back.”

It sounded like Seve held his breath for a moment. Then he shifted clumsily, pulling the condom off into a tissue, and drew his jeans back up his hips. I did the same, cursing the narrow space, ignoring the awkward imprint of the seat belt clasp on my thigh. I hitched up my seat and Seve started the car.

The side windows were still fogged, but I thought I saw a pair of car headlights spring alight just as we pulled out of the car park. There was no other traffic around. The other car followed our route for quite some way until it finally turned off by the pier and we drove farther along the promenade toward the marina.

Seve dropped me off near the club and drove away swiftly. Since I’d asked him to go back, everything had been in complete silence.

A COUPLE of weeks later, Louis caught me in the kitchen while I was washing up after our late dinner. Well, not that I was making a break for it, but he stopped in the doorway, effectively blocking my exit. I wiped the last couple of plates slowly, wondering what was coming and suspecting I already knew. He had a particular look on his face, one of those looks I hadn’t seen since I was a kid and was caught stealing sweets by the old ex-soldier who ran the corner shop. A mixture of anger, admonition, and understanding. Very difficult to balance, all of that. Louis’s acting experience inevitably stood him in good stead.

“Max?”

I sighed to myself.

“I’m worried about you.”

“In what way?”

He peered at me, suspicious of my calm. “This man you’re seeing—”

Is that what I’d call it? Seeing? “You mean Seve?”

Louis just raised an eyebrow.

“Okay. So no one else is beating down the door to date me. I guess you do mean Seve. It’s just fun, Louis. Just… something casual.”

Louis nodded. Rarely have I seen someone nod a “yes” when they so blatantly mean “no way.” “He’s new to Brighton, Max, but he’s already got a reputation in the club.”

No, I thought, I was not going to ask. “What reputation?”

“He likes being in charge. He doesn’t take shit from anyone, especially the staff. His company pays bloody good money, but he expects long hours and no messing about. He cancels contracts with long-standing suppliers if they won’t meet the Medina prices, and he’s sacked a couple of dancers who don’t get enough attention. He watches all the expenses, though he spends plenty of money on his car and his flat.”

His flat? “His flat?”

Louis dismissed it with a graceful wave of his hand. “It’s somewhere on Sussex Square. We all know how much those properties cost. He’s rich and arrogant and obviously used to getting his own way.”

Some people would wonder at what point that became a bad thing. “Is that what you’ve heard, or gossip?”

Louis had the grace to blush. “All right, so a lot of it’s gossip, you know how the dancers are. We deal mainly with Angie, who makes the bookings—she was at the club before the Medina Group took it over. You know I’ve always wanted a spot, and the Medina contract pays great money. But when she called me up to offer it, I did think twice. There’s something about the new management that gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

I rolled my eyes at a phrase I hadn’t heard from anyone except Louis since school days. “What sort of thing?”

Louis shrugged. “Nothing really. Just a more aggressive approach to business, I suppose, after the previous owners who—let’s face it—never spent any money on the place at all. But I… well, I did ask Angie and some of the others about the new man.”

“Checking up on me?”

He scowled. “Of course not, you silly arse.”

Not on me, but on Seve. I softened my tone so he wouldn’t think I was really angry. “I told you, it’s okay.”

Louis still didn’t look like he thought it was. “He dates a lot. Plays the field, has plenty of offers. Doesn’t see anyone more than a couple of times. There’s the story about the boy band—”

“Heard it,” I snapped. I wondered if Louis had picked up vibes about Seve fancying him, and just how much of Seve’s playboy image was true.

“I’m just saying, he’s not boyfriend material, Max. Just fucks and leaves.”

And wasn’t that just what Seve accused me of? I could be honest with myself—Louis wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. Except, perhaps, the bit about the “couple of times” dating. Looked like I’d already blown that one out of the water. “I’m not after that, Louis. Hell, a few weeks ago, all the pair of you could talk about was me getting out more. Getting laid. And now you’re recommending I lock myself in my room until Mr. Right—or Mr. Something Better—comes along?”

Louis frowned, his nose wrinkling. “Of course not. You’re deliberately misunderstanding me. I’m just concerned for you.”

“Thanks,” I said, but he couldn’t have missed the sarcasm.

He snorted, his cheeks flushed. “Point taken. I’ll leave you to your obsession.”

And he was right, wasn’t he? Obsession was a fair description. I couldn’t wait for the weekends to come along, so I’d started hanging out at the club during the week as well. I did Comedy Night and Electro-Pop Night and even a Salsa Night. I was greeted with a leery grin at the Girls On Top night, and so far I’d resisted the Come To Daddy Night. But it had been worth it. In all cases, Seve had appeared at the bar within an hour of my arrival.

I didn’t know how to take that. Was he on duty every night, or did he spend all his leisure time there as well? Or were there some other kind of jungle drums that called him whenever I dropped in? I didn’t—couldn’t—believe that.

And after all, did I care? Each time, we’d exchange some empty talk that I could never remember properly afterward, then he’d take me somewhere. It might be out into the yard at the back of the club again, or in his car, or to the silent shell of a bankrupted shop around the back of Churchill Square. Anywhere, just so’s we could fuck. I don’t know how he knew where to go or where he got the keys to some places, but we always found somewhere. We took a B&B room a couple of times, but only to fuck, then leave in the dark. And we only went there in the first place because I complained about my arse being stripped and pounded in the pouring rain one too many times. Maybe he’d taken other men to these places in the past. I wasn’t such an idiot I didn’t consider it—but then he’d act as if a room was unfamiliar after all, and I reckoned I was the first.

It didn’t matter, at least not while I was so high on him. Just like we were both high on the impulse and the risk involved. We weren’t so desperate that we wanted to be caught—it wasn’t that kind of recklessness. But the need for each other was always in our next breath, and we weren’t going to wait for the feather bed to satisfy it. I was always bottom, but that was fine by me. The feel of him inside me, the desire that sprang from him like an electrical charge, the imprint of his hands on my body—it was the best I’d ever known. And we both liked it that way, it seemed.

“Max, are you listening?” Louis’s voice cut in. “It’s just such a change to find you out every night. You’re drinking again. You seem….”

Different, he was going to say.

“…different, somehow.”

“I used to drink and go clubbing. You know that.”

“Yes, but that was before you left Brighton.” Louis shrugged. “When you came back, you were so withdrawn. You said you wanted everything to change. You were angry about it, angry and fri—”

“Hey,” I said softly, like a warning.

Louis paused, realizing my mood. “Okay. You’re an adult now. You can do what you like. It’s not for me to tell you who to see.”