Driven to Protect, page 9
“But you were uncomfortable?” Paulo really didn’t want to ask Cohen to do something he was weird about.
“It was a moment of doubt. You are so young, beautiful, talented, and you could have anyone in the world.”
Paulo turned his head. “I want you.” No one else would do. No one else had listened to Paulo as he’d poured out his problems. No one else walked with such natural confidence. No one else protected him. No one else was Cohen. It was the easiest thing in the world to reach up, cup Cohen’s cheeks and pull him closer for a kiss. Their lips met and Paulo wanted to roar with joy. Nothing—not even winning a race—felt as good as this. He’d wanted this kiss from the first moment he’d seen Cohen and the yearning had grown with every hour they spent together. Which was a lot of hours. Paulo loved the sensation of Cohen’s goatee against his own clean-shaven chin, loved the touch of their lips together, and when Cohen pushed Paulo onto his back and straddled him, Paulo gripped Cohen’s face harder. Fuck. This was so much better than anything; better than being fucked while drunk in a grubby cheap motel room, better than his imagination, because this was real. Cohen was real. He was here. Kissing Paulo. Paulo kissed him back with everything he had. He wanted to earn this attention, earn this kiss, and he gave everything of himself to the kiss. Paulo wanted to live up to those words Cohen had said; he was young and talented and could have anyone in the world. Except. Only Cohen would do. He stroked Cohen’s tongue, played with him, savoured him and his taste—rich like vanilla butter cookies—loving the way Cohen used his weight to push Paulo into the bed.
“Roll over.” Cohen’s voice was all husky. Paulo obeyed with a whimper—rolling onto his stomach—as Cohen took each of Paulo’s hands and spread them wide across the bed. Gooseflesh broke out along his arms as Cohen trailed his fingers along his skin.
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Fuck me. Use me.” Paulo wanted more than he knew how to ask for. Cohen chuckled against Paulo’s shoulder blades, then scraped his teeth across the tendons in Paulo’s neck.
“Bite me.”
“No. You’ll do as I say now.”
Paulo didn’t think his cock could get any harder, but that did it for him. He whimpered, unable to speak.
“Will you do what I ask?”
“Anything.” Paulo pleaded. How did Cohen know exactly what he needed?
“Good.” Cohen did that thing with his teeth again, and Paulo shivered.
“You are so responsive.”
Paulo frowned. “What?”
“It’s a good thing. I’m just playing with you.”
“Do you like it? Playing with me?” Because if Cohen stopped, Paulo might die dramatically from unreleased need. His blood was hot, boiling in his veins, and his cock ached with desire. His body spun with more G-force than a high-speed crash.
“I could certainly get used to having the world’s third best driver between my thighs.”
“Jesus, Cohen.” Paulo shuddered. Cohen’s confidence had been on display during his work, and the potential for this had always been there. Experiencing it was better than he could have hoped for. For three weeks, they’d pretended this wasn’t here between them, so they could co-exist while ignoring this searing chemistry. It’d been too fucking long. Cohen’s weight disappeared.
“Don’t move. Don’t look.”
It took a herculean effort to keep his face buried in the pillows. But it was all worth it when Cohen pulled the elastic of Paulo’s boxer shorts and released it back onto his skin with a ping. Paulo gasped, lifting his head slightly to suck in some air.
“Take these off, and you can arrange the pillows if you need too, but don’t look.” Cohen’s command had that cocky tone that was Paulo’s favourite.
“I want to see you.”
“Not yet.”
“Soon?”
“Yes.” Silence filled the room with a heavy air. Paulo was sorely tempted to roll over and look around for Cohen. Was this part of the game? The waiting and the not knowing where Cohen was or what he was doing? Paulo hoped so, because if it was, he would lie here obediently doing what Cohen wanted. He could earn this by doing as he was told, no matter how uncomfortable it was, or how many of his thoughts rushed to stressful ideas. Like what if Cohen had left the room and was calling the press? Breathe, Paulo. Cohen would never betray him, that’s why Paulo was here—willingly waiting—trusting him. Paulo stripped off his boxer shorts. It was awkward from this angle because his cock was hard and he had to wriggle his hips to figure out how to extract himself from his own clothing. He wasn’t usually this uncoordinated.
“I hope you aren’t allergic to anything.” Cohen’s voice sent a wave of relief down Paulo’s spine. Of course he hadn’t left. Paulo could trust him, and he didn’t want to think too hard about why it felt so good to know Cohen was still here.
“Nope.” Paulo didn’t have to time ask why as Cohen placed his hands on Paulo’s butt cheeks. The bed shifted slightly as Cohen dragged his hands down Paulo’s thighs, slowly pushing Paulo’s knees apart, until Cohen could place himself between Paulo’s legs. Paulo wished he could see, but his face was pushed against the pillows, and his nostrils filled with the scent of the hotel’s laundry soap. Cohen pushed Paulo’s thighs, guiding his knees forward, so his ass lifted into the air. A cool rush of air covered his naked cock as he bent to Cohen’s requirements.
“You look great.” Cohen traced his fingers slowly over Paulo’s thighs and lower back and ass until Paulo shook with need.
“Please.”
“What would you like, Paulo?” Cohen asked.
Paulo squeezed his eyes shut. It was one thing to ask Cohen to fuck him when Cohen was dressed and standing away from him. It was a lot more difficult to wrap his tongue around the specific words—to beg for one of Cohen’s dicks—when he was prone like this with his skin on fire and his cock so very hard and untouched.
“Paulo. I will give you exactly what you ask for. Nothing else.” Cohen made it sound like Paulo was in control of this situation. As if. If Cohen as much as touched his cock or his hole, Paulo was going to come so fucking hard...
“Paulo...” Cohen paused and just as Paulo swallowed away the dryness in his throat, Cohen tapped him on the ass. Paulo groaned. He had to focus very hard so he didn’t come. Yet. He needed to hold the base of his cock to stop himself but he wasn’t sure he was allowed to move his hands.
“Again?” He begged for another tap, somehow getting the word out between his shallow breaths.
“How many points did you earn today?”
“Fifteen.” His fingers curled against the blanket, clinging on tight. Eight on Saturday, fifteen today. Season total; seventy-three. He’d moved from tenth on the table to eighth.
Cohen laughed and rested his head on Paulo’s lower back. “Fuck. I was going to slap you for each point, but nah, that’s too many. You’ll be too sore to drive in Abu Dhabi on Friday.”
“It’s not. Cohen.” Paulo needed him now. “Please slap me fifteen times.”
“No. But I will fuck you with fifteen slow thrusts.”
“Please.” Holy shit. Paulo needed that more than anything else. He’d earned his podium today and he was going to get a reward in the very best way. He gasped. “Cohen. Do you want to do this? I’m not making you...”
“Paulo. If you knew how fucking gorgeous you look with your ass up in the air, open for me, and your cock so hard and untouched and leaking, you wouldn’t ask that question. It’s no hardship to fuck you.”
“Okay.” Paulo hoped that was true because he really wanted this. A cool liquid dripped onto his crack. All Paulo’s attention focused on the way Cohen’s fingers worked the lube into his ass. He had barely any time to adjust when the blunt end of Cohen’s silicon dick pushed inside. Paulo eased out a long breath, relaxing his body to accept Cohen’s dick until he was seated deep inside him. Fuck, he felt so full and incredible. This was better than the first time. Mostly because it was Cohen, but also because Cohen had been so careful with him. Tender.
“Count with me.”
“Huh?” Paulo couldn’t think. He was so full and riding the edge of his orgasm.
“Count.” Cohen pulled part of the way out and waited. How the fuck did he have such control? God, Paulo was going to explode. He couldn’t make his mouth work and his lungs heaved.
“Fifteen.” Cohen thrust once, sliding slowly against Paulo’s prostate.
“Fuck.”
“No. Fourteen.” Cohen thrust again, and the same shot of heat flooded Paulo’s body. He had to earn these by counting properly.
“Thirteen.” Paulo’s voice was all hoarse—an unrecognisable croak—and his lungs emptied with a jolt as Cohen thrust again. Softly, almost too gentle.
“Twelve.” Paulo found the rhythm of it and counted down. Cohen wasn’t thrusting hard—just a slow rhythm that built and built the tension. With each thrust, Paulo’s balls tightened and he was sure he was leaking all over the bed. He didn’t care anymore.
“Four.” Nearly there. Soon he could let go. Cohen rested one hand on Paulo’s lower back, an anchor under the onslaught of so much pleasure.
“Three.”
“A nice long one for the third best driver today.” Cohen’s sultry comment made Paulo bite the pillow. He was going to last. He could do it. His competitive nature overrode the glorious pressure on his prostate. He shuddered; clinging to the bed with his hands, desperate to make it all the way to the end.
“Two.” His voice was strangled.
“Good boy. Nearly there.”
“One. Fuck.” The praise from Cohen sent him spiralling over the edge. Paulo couldn’t hold on anymore. Stars filled his vision as he came hard, simultaneously barely aware of the final thrust as Cohen’s dick caressed his prostate again and he felt nothing else. The whole world shrunk to the connection between them, to the way Cohen held Paulo’s hips and the way Cohen’s thighs pushed up against his hamstrings.
Cohen kissed him between his shoulder blades and slowly pulled out. “Come and have a shower and get cleaned up.”
Paulo collapsed on the bed, right into his own mess. He could just lie here, completely sated, but he hauled himself to his feet and followed Cohen. Cohen stood in the hotel bathroom naked—except for the harness around his hips—waiting for the water to heat up.
“Please let me wash you.” Paulo had to give back. His legs were unsteady and he knew he was about to sleep better than he had all year. Cohen tested the water—lean muscles rippling as he reached forwards—then he adjusted the temperature, stepped under the stream, and beckoned Paulo to join him.
“You want to wash me?” Cohen held out the bar of soap.
“I would like that. Just let me know if there is anywhere you don’t want me to touch.”
Cohen closed his eyes for a moment.
“Am I intruding?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“Good. I ... Please let me care for you like you just did for me.” Paulo didn’t know how to explain how he felt. Dazed, happy, sated, like he wanted to fall on his knees for Cohen but he didn’t want to overstep and do something off-putting.
“Okay. Just not between my legs.”
Paulo could do that. He lathered up the soap and spread it all over Cohen’s body, worshipping him, enjoying the way Cohen’s bottom lip started to sag and his breath sped up as Paulo washed Cohen’s torso, arms, and legs. He skirted over the thin scars on Cohen’s chest, unsure if Cohen would be comfortable with Paulo’s touch there yet. As Paulo washed each of Cohen’s fingers, Cohen grabbed his hand and wrapped it around the silicon dick strapped to his body. Together they stroked the dick with a harder down stroke.
“Just like that.”
Paulo copied, and quickly picked up the technique that pushed the dick against Cohen’s body in a way that made him gasp and pant and grip Paulo’s hand tighter.
“Like that?”
“Yes. Harder.” Cohen commanded. Paulo obeyed, and with the other hand, he reached up and pulled Cohen’s head closer until they were kissing desperately. Paulo drank in Cohen’s cries as he came with a shudder against Paulo. Somehow they managed to rinse off the soap, unbuckle Cohen’s dick, get dried, and strip off the dirty quilt from the bed, before collapsing onto the mattress. Paulo slept, unaware of the world around. Cohen would keep him safe.
Chapter 10
Cohen had always known he preferred to top and to have Paulo offer exactly what Cohen loved the most had been too tempting. Part of his capitulation was the awkward—completely real—conversation they’d had, and Cohen let himself pretend all the reasons why they shouldn’t have sex suddenly didn’t exist. This morning, they’d slept in, having a lazy Monday morning together, enjoying kisses in bed but mutually agreeing to no more sex, mostly because by the time they’d woken, they were running late for the post-race team meeting between the drivers, strategists, and engineers.
Cohen had chatted to Lilly-Anne and a few other mates online while he’d waited outside the door. The team guarded their race security carefully with only core team members allowed access to the information, and since the room was secure, Cohen didn’t have anything to do while they analysed the race. Over the past ten minutes, most of the mechanics had arrived in the hallway and he’d been chatting to a few of them.
“Everyone please come in.” Paulo opened the door and leaned out.
He waited until the others had filed inside. “Do you want me as well?”
“Yes. We are about to have a whole team meeting. Come in. You are part of Gamble’s wider team.”
Cohen walked into the room. Several people were seated around a long table, each of them with laptops—all showing blank screens with the protected team data hidden—and a big screen showed a lot of faces, all in a large online meeting format. Most of the mechanics leaned against the wall, so he joined them, standing behind Paulo’s seat. The room was filled with people from the pit lane and the logistics team. It must be important if they’d pulled everyone away from the task of getting everything packed up for the next race.
Jaxxon stood at the front of the room and when he nodded, the room fell silent. “Welcome everyone to our pre-Abu Dhabi meeting. Those of you who have been with Gamble for more than one season will know what this meeting is all about.” Jaxxon paused. “For those of you who have joined us this year, there is one thing you need to know about Abu Dhabi. Being queer is illegal there.”
Cohen held his breath. When he’d agreed to this job and been told he would need to travel, he hadn’t anticipated travelling to nations like that.
“As with every year, the logistics team will have already talked to all our mechanics and have put together a team of people who feel comfortable travelling to that region of the world with all their unwelcoming laws. Series One has an agreement with the local government that ensures the safe entry for everyone on a racing team, and this has worked well in previous years. Regardless of the privilege we have from being part of a major international sporting event that promotes their oil industry and brings in tourist dollars to this nation, we still have several members of our team who are at risk from the local laws. Everyone—gay or straight—at Gamble Racing has the responsibility to ensure the safety of our fellow teammates. This is not a nation where we can relax or be tourists outside of working hours. Be careful with your actions and the words you say, and don’t put anyone else at risk. As usual, Gamble Racing will cover all legal costs if anyone finds themselves on the wrong side of the law, however, with the penalties being so harsh, please be careful. If anyone has any questions, or concerns, please come and talk to me.”
Jaxxon handed over to someone else who went through all the details and laws and the practical ways people could stay safe. Once that was done, he reiterated that they would stay in the team group for the whole weekend of racing, moving together from the airport to the hotel and racetrack, and keeping away from the public.
“Focus on the racing. Let’s have another result like we have in the last two races, then we’ll head back to headquarters in England for a proper end of season celebration.”
The room cheered and slowly emptied out.
“I’ll be fine without you.” Paulo stood up awkwardly in front of Cohen.
“You are not going to Abu Dhabi without me. I’ve been employed to keep you safe. You are going to need me.”
“But you heard what Jaxxon said. You won’t be safe.”
Cohen breathed out between clenched teeth. “It’s my job. I’ll—” Well, he couldn’t precisely say that he’d be completely safe. If they did a body x-ray at the airport, things could get horrible very quickly. “Didn’t Jaxxon say this sport gets a special pass?”
“I’m allowed to be worried about you.”
Cohen nodded. “You are, and I’m thankful that you care.”
Paulo’s eyes widened. “Of course I care. Cohen.”
“Are you two okay?” Jaxxon asked.
“Yes.” They both answered tersely.
“I don’t think Cohen should come to the next race.” Paulo shifted from one foot to another.
“Cohen?” Jaxxon asked.
He breathed out; Jaxxon already knew he was trans because they’d had that discussion when they’d transferred his contract from Paulo to Gamble. “It’s a concern. It is my choice to continue to do my job as Paulo’s bodyguard and attend the race in Abu Dhabi. My passport is valid. There will be no issues provided the team and the sport is as supportive as they say.” Cohen’s passport had him noted as a man and all his change of name and gender documents were safely stored in France with his sister.
“Gamble will support you in your decision. Ondrej and Paulo are booked to fly there on Wednesday, with the team spending the least amount of time there as we can manage.”
Cohen frowned. “I thought we were leaving this afternoon?” He’d already become used to the constant travel and hadn’t read the plane tickets that had been emailed through to him from Gamble’s headquarters a few days ago.
