Cole, page 10
He laughed breathlessly and brushed a lazy kiss across my lips. Then, moving carefully, he lifted himself off me, and I gasped and shivered as my still-hard and super sensitive dick slid out of him.
“We’re gonna need another shower,” he murmured, collapsing beside me.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Nah.” He closed his eyes and burrowed into the pillow. “Just sayin’.”
I chuckled, pressed a kiss to his shoulder, and got up to get rid of the condom and wipe off the cum. I was going to ask if he wanted to chill for a few minutes, but by the time I was tossing the tissues, he was getting up.
“We should get that shower.” He staggered to his feet. “Before I pass out or something.”
I wrapped an arm around his waist. “Don’t pass out. Come on.” I herded him into the bathroom, and once the water was hot, we stepped under the spray.
I wouldn’t admit it out loud, but this was one of my favorite parts—wrapping him up in my arms and kissing lazily in the shower. Sex and orgasms and blowjobs and all that were great, but no one ever talked about how good it felt just to have someone’s naked body pressed close like this. Especially when neither of us was trying to get the other spun up. How had I gone this long without being touched?
Touching him wasn’t the only novelty.
When we separated to get cleaned up, I didn’t even try to be subtle about looking him up and down. I was no stranger to incredibly fit men in various states of undress. Hockey players were ripped. We had to be. Guys walked around without their shirts on, and six-packs were a thing because we barely had any body fat during the hockey season.
But Cole was something else entirely. He wasn’t just some hot guy who happened to be in the same locker room. The was the man I’d had my hands and mouth all over earlier. That little hitch in his step when he moved? That was from riding me. There was something seriously intoxicating about realizing that.
And he kept himself fit as hell too. He was slimmer than a hockey player would be, and he was cut like someone who could—if he spent a couple of miserable days dehydrating himself beforehand—pose for one of those spreads where the model had canyons between their muscles.
He didn’t need to dehydrate himself to be hot, though. I mean, no man did, but the point was that I loved the way he looked now. Smooth in the places he should be. Angular in the others. Just… perfect.
His dark blond hair was always flawlessly arranged when he walked into my condo, but it never took long before it was mussed and disheveled. Now it was wet and dark, and after we’d showered, it would be damp and finger-combed, and I loved that look on him.
Who was I kidding—I loved any look on him. I was curious what he looked like when he was dressed down in sweats and a ratty T-shirt. Or when he first woke up in the morning and was still bleary-eyed and sleepy.
Those were beyond the scope of what we were doing, but the curiosity was there. Nothing wrong with imagining it, was there?
Cole tilted his head back to rinse his hair. Then he stepped out of the spray and traded with me. Wiping the water off his face, he said, “You’re hitting the road again tomorrow, aren’t you?”
Aww, damn. He was right.
“Yeah.” I let the water beat on the back of my neck. “I think we’re gone for eight days this time.”
“Good God, that must get exhausting.”
“Eh.” I shrugged. “Comes with the job.”
“True.” He put his hands on my waist and kissed me lightly. “Well, when you’re back in town, you know where to find me.”
“Mmhmm, I do.” I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him in close. God, I loved that. “Too bad I can’t fly you in for one night.”
“A mid-road-trip conjugal visit?”
“Something like that.”
Cole’s lips quirked. “I mean, if you wanted to do something virtual, that’s always an option.”
“That—it is?”
“Sure.” He grinned, narrowing his eyes a little. “By the time you meet someone to date, you’ll be a pro at the whole camera sex thing.”
“Ooh.” Well. Damn. I hadn’t even thought of that. “You’d—I mean, you’d be into that?”
“I can be. Just let me know when you’re online, and we can get on FaceTime.”
“Hmm. I’ll have to find a way to get rid of my roommate, but yeah, that sounds like fun.”
“Perfect.”
I furrowed my brow. “How would that work as far as paying you? With our ten bookings and all that?”
Cole seemed to think about it. Then he shrugged as he draped his arms over my shoulders, pressing his chest and abs against mine. “We’ll work out all the details once we’re dressed. For now…” He let a long, lazy kiss finish the thought.
I didn’t know if either of us had a third round in us tonight. Now that I knew we wouldn’t be completely out of touch for the next eight days, I was okay with that. Whatever he charged would be worth every penny. The whole virtual thing wouldn’t be the same, but it beat the hell out of just lying in bed alone and fantasizing about him, which I’d done a lot of lately since I traveled so much.
I wasn’t ready for tonight to be over.
But I couldn’t wait to FaceTime with him once I was on the road.
Chapter 12
Cole
As promised, Parker and I had exchanged FaceTime info, and we’d worked out an arrangement alongside the one where we met up in person. FaceTime calls weren’t nearly as expensive as actual bookings, and just because we were both lazy when it came to the app, we set it up as a similar extended deal—a set number of calls to be used whenever we were both available. If we ran out, we could top it up, or whatever. He didn’t seem too worried about it, and I sure as hell wasn’t. I was making plenty of money, and who was I kidding? I’d have done these calls for free if he hadn’t insisted he wanted to pay for my time.
Now he was back on the road, and on the fourth night, he texted me to let me know he’d be in his room after tonight’s game.
Roommate will be out for a couple of hours.
Ooh, and he’d be alone, too. Awesome.
But an hour or so before we were going to chat, he sent another text:
Probably not down for much tonight. Back is being a dick. :(
My heart sank. Damn. I’d been looking forward to this. Probably more than I should’ve been, but whatever.
And why was I suddenly tempted to suggest we FaceTime anyway? I could still give him a show, right? Or we could just, like, talk.
Except that wasn’t part of the deal. This was sex. Nothing more.
On the other hand, clients hired us all the time for company and conversation. That was, after all, how Emerald City stayed legal. Plus plenty of guys were just lonely.
So what was the harm in making myself available to Parker if he was lonely while he was out on the road and his roommate was someplace else? It would definitely pass the time better than counting down until he was back in Seattle. Not that I ever counted down until a client came back to town. Ever. At all.
Before I could think too hard about it, I wrote, We could still video chat if you want to. Doesn’t have to count against the ones you paid for. A second later, I added, I’m in for the evening and SO BORED. I didn’t even know why, but I felt better after I sent the second text. Like it somehow took the pressure off him or… something. Hell if I knew.
What I did know was that I got a less than professional rush of excitement when he wrote back, I’ll be in my room in 30 min or so. Ping you?
I’ll be here.
It ended up being close to an hour before the request came through.
As soon as Parker appeared on the screen, apologies started tumbling out. “Oh my God, I am so sorry. We got back to the hotel a little later than we thought, and then I got tied up with—”
“Parker.” I laughed. “Relax. It’s okay.”
His features tightened. “I just didn’t want to keep you waiting.”
“It’s all good.” I turned my phone to show him the paperback beside me on the bed, then back to my face. “I wasn’t just lying here staring at the ceiling.” Not that I was concentrating particularly well on the book I’d been trying to read, but he didn’t need to know that. “How is your back? Are you okay?”
“Ugh.” He made a face. “I’m fine. Just lost an edge, and when I fell, I landed weird. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
“Lost an edge?”
He laughed. “Fell off my skates, basically.”
“That seems like something that would happen a lot when you’re riding around on skinny little razor blades.”
“Eh, it’s more stable than you think.”
“Says the guy who fell off his skate tonight.”
“Hey now.” He tried to scowl but failed miserably. “That’s enough out of you.”
I laughed. “I’m just saying!”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yeah, anyway.” His humor faded to that shy smile that seriously shouldn’t have made my head this light. “Sorry I can’t do much tonight. I was looking forward to it.”
“Me too, but it won’t be as fun if you’re in pain. Don’t worry—it can wait.”
“And you’re sure you don’t mind just talking like this?”
“Oh, I talk to clients all the time.” I just don’t usually look forward to them the way I look forward to you. “How much time do you have?”
“My roommate’s at a thing with some of the other guys.” Parker glanced off-camera like he was looking at the door. “I don’t know if it’s a signing or an interview, but it’s an hour away and doesn’t start until nine. So he’ll be out for a while.”
“Perfect. Then we can just relax and talk. No rush.”
He studied me with what seemed like some skepticism, but then he relaxed. “Okay. Cool.” He avoided my gaze and chuckled. “It’s kind of funny—I’m hiring an escort. My three other gay teammates? One is married with kids. One is all about ass with no complications. And one is crazy in love.”
“Is that really weird, though?” I leaned back on the pillow, sliding my hand behind my head. “You’ve probably got straight teammates who do the same things.”
“Oh, definitely. It’s just funny that I have, like, one of each. It’s like the gay sampler platter.”
I snorted. “Okay, yeah, it kind of is. Not a bad place for a gay rookie, right?”
“Oh, it’s the best. All that time I spent worrying about being accepted as a gay hockey player? Pfft. The Breakers were basically my dream team.”
“Yeah, it sounds like you have a pretty sweet deal there.”
“I have no complaints.” He paused. “Well, I mean, there’s one guy on the team who obviously doesn’t like gay dudes, but I think the other three must’ve put the fear of God into him or something.”
That rang a bell in my mind. The teammate who was in love was dating Luca, though I wasn’t going to say anything, because I didn’t know how much Ethan had told his teammates about how he and Luca had met. But anyway, hadn’t Luca mentioned something about that one weird guy? He hadn’t named names, but he’d said there was some player on the team who’d obviously had serious issues with queer men, but after Ethan had ripped into him, they’d come to an understanding of sorts. Was this the same guy? Christ, between a hostile homophobe and that one asshole who was infamous at Emerald City for being a jerk client, Parker’s team sounded like it had a few pieces of work on the roster.
I wasn’t ready to explain to Parker that I was close to Ethan’s boyfriend, so I played stupid. I tilted my head. “Someone put the fear of God into him? How do you figure?”
“He’s just…” Parker’s eyes lost focus. “I don’t know. He keeps his distance from Wright and Smitty, and he doesn’t talk to me more than he has to. Whenever Warner’s husband and kids show up, he gets… Man, I can’t even describe it. He just seems really uncomfortable.”
I laughed dryly. “Sucks to be him, doesn’t it? He’s lucky he isn’t gay and doesn’t have to live on this end of that kind of bullshit.”
“Seriously,” Parker muttered. “Eh, I just don’t hang with him. We have to play together because we’re on the same line, but outside of that…” He shook his head.
“I don’t blame you at all. Life’s too short for that.”
The conversation wandered for a while, mostly about hockey and some of the other bumps and bruises he’d accumulated over the years. Eventually, we hit a lull, and then Parker asked, “Out of curiosity, what made you become an escort?”
“The money.”
He held my gaze as if he expected me to either rattle off more reasons or say I was joking. When I didn’t, he asked, “Just the money?”
“Yep. Seattle is expensive as hell, and no regular job pays me anywhere near what I make doing this unless I want to work seventy hours a week, which I do not.” I paused. “I’ve done some modeling too, but that was… Eh, it doesn’t pay for shit, and I had some bad experiences.”
“Bad experiences? What kind?” Parker paused. “If, um, if you don’t mind my asking.”
“It’s fine. Mostly it was either people who tried to skimp on paying, or it was creepy photographers.”
“Eww. That sounds like a shitty business.”
“Ugh, it can be sometimes.” I rolled my eyes. “Like, if I find a good photographer—and there are a lot of them!— it’s really fun. But the anxiety just going into a job with someone I don’t know—it sucks. The women I know in the business have a lot more problems than the men. A few have basically started screening photographers based on which ones will allow them to bring their boyfriends.”
Parker’s eyes widened. “Yeah?”
“Yep. If a photographer won’t allow a model to bring someone with them—especially a man—that’s a huge red flag.”
“Wow. I hadn’t even thought of that, but it makes sense.
I nodded. “They don’t even have boyfriends half the time. If the photographer says they can bring someone, they’ll just bring a male friend along. Hell, I’ve gone a few times.” I laughed dryly. “I don’t imagine too many of them are convinced, since I don’t exactly come off as straight, but the good photographers get it. They know I’m there to make sure he keeps his hands to himself and doesn’t ask her to do more than she’s comfortable doing. If he gets shitty about it, then we leave before the lens cap even comes off.”
“Good,” Parker said. “Fuck those guys.”
“Or not,” I said dryly.
He laughed. “Yeah, or not.”
“And male models have problems like that too. Not as much as the women do, at least in my experience, but man, I have had some creepy fuckers behind cameras.” I shuddered.
“Wow,” he whispered. “And you don’t have the same problems in this job?”
“Oh, I do, but I have…” I pursed my lips, considering how to word it. “With a photographer, it’s my word against theirs. Models have our own whisper network, and creepy photographers get blacklisted pretty quickly. The problem is that photographers have one too, and they can spread the word that certain models are ‘difficult to work with.’ Plus they have photos and even video footage of shoots, which can be edited to make it look like things went down very differently.”
“And you can’t take pictures or videos?”
I shook my head. “Not if we’re with one of the creepy assholes. If he won’t let a model bring someone to the studio for their own safety, I can guarantee he also doesn’t allow any kind of photography or recording.”
“Can’t imagine why.”
“Right?” I tsked. “Fortunately, we usually catch on to their bullshit games, and word gets around fast if a photographer is shady, but it’s still a pain in the ass. With this job? I mean, it’s also my word against the client’s, but the owner can and will sic a lawyer on someone who tries to smear one of us. If someone gets out of line during a booking, or even if we don’t feel safe for reasons we can’t explain, we’re absolutely allowed to walk without worrying about losing our jobs.”
“Have you ever had to do that?”
I held up two fingers.
Parker’s eyes got huge. “Really? What happened? Er, um, if you can… If you want to…”
“It’s okay.” I smiled to reassure him. My hand was getting a little tired, so I switched the phone to the other one. “I can’t give you personal details, but I can tell you what happened. The first time…” I laughed, shaking my head. “That was on me. He was my third client ever, and something didn’t feel right, so I bailed. I realized in hindsight that it was a hardcore case of performance anxiety because the client before him hadn’t been happy with me.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Parker said with a wry but cautious smile. “I definitely haven’t had any complaints.”
Our eyes met, and I squirmed as some warmth rushed through me. “Yeah, well, this one dude… I think it was some nerves on my part and God knows what on his. All I know is he didn’t tip me and he sent a scathing review to my boss.”
Parker grimaced. “Ouch.”
“It happens.” I shrugged. “I’m just glad we’re not on Yelp.”
He laughed. “Oh God. That would actually be really funny, but yeah, probably just as well.”
“Right? Anyway, my boss assured me that it happens, and I’d be fine, but she also said if I got too many of those, my profile would be deactivated.” I pushed out a breath. “No pressure.”
“Oh fuck.” Parker made a face like he wanted to gag. “I had a hard enough time performing at first when there wasn’t any pressure. That would’ve…” He shuddered.
“Same. So I think that kind of threw me with the next client. I was so nervous about getting it right, I think I worked myself into an actual panic. And I misread that as coming from the client, not…” I tapped my temple.
“Wow. How did that go over?”
“Not as bad as you might think, to be honest.” I leaned back against the pillows and rested my free hand behind my head. “When I figured it out, I messaged the client and apologized profusely. I was just honest about what happened, and I offered to meet with him again—no charge—and make it up to him.”
