I’ve dealt with crime lords before. However, this all feels above Gabriel’s level. Thugs like him don’t hide things well. They get off on spreading fear, working in such large numbers the police prefer to avoid involvement. Hell, he wasn’t even on our radar until recently.
My phone buzzes on my desk. I ignore it to finish up an email to a new client, but whoever is texting me is persistent. I pick it up and swipe through my lock screen, nearly slamming my phone down on my desk when I scroll through the pictures Rev’s been sending me.
The first one is of him and Ezra together. Rev’s holding up his hands in a peace sign, and Ezra’s got his tongue sticking out. I stare at Ezra longer than I should, thrown off by how truly gorgeous he is.
The second picture… did they fucking cut up one of my t-shirts? I bought Ezra a whole new wardrobe. Why does he continue to wear my stuff?
Although, I can’t really complain about glimpsing more of Ezra’s flawless, tan skin. Half the length of the shirt is missing, showing off his toned abs in mid-crunch on the gym floor. He’s in fucking boxers, too.
He doesn’t fucking listen.
Gonna work this pretty boy into a sweat, Rev’s text reads.
Immediately, I swipe into my contacts to call Rev and bitch him out, but that would just play further into whatever game Rev thinks he’s winning.
I set my phone down and dig into studying financials. But that bubble of irritation keeps interfering with my ability to process anything I’m looking at on my computer screen.
My phone continues to rumble. I glare at it as if that will make it stop. Should I appoint someone else to train Ezra? All Rev seems to be doing is snapping indecent photos of him. I could use Rev out in the field. Sometimes I feel like I rely on him too much, though.
I make a mental note to pick up athletic clothes for Ezra. If I keep buying them, maybe he’ll cover up for once.
Maybe he needs to be punished.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, willing away the scenes playing out in my head. Ezra on his hands and knees, naked in my bed. My fingers hooked in his pretty mouth, pressing down on his tongue as my hand strokes his hard cock. He’d moan and whine like he did the other night when he came on my lap.
Another buzz from my phone. I snap my best pen in half, ink leaking over my hand and onto my desk, staining the polished wood.
I can’t help but peek at the goddamn pictures. Ezra, shirtless, doing pull-ups. The angle does nothing to hide the outline of his dick in his boxers or the surprising cut of his arms. He’s lean in the waist, but he’s definitely in shape. I suppose his lifestyle requires it.
The next picture is on a glute machine. Ezra’s laid out, round ass on full display. I clench my teeth together as my hard cock fights against the confines of my slacks. I had my hands around that soft flesh.
Fuck. I want to sink my teeth into him.
My fingers fly over my phone keyboard.Quit it, perv.
I can hear Rev’s laughter echoing in my head.He’s a natural athlete. Pretty boy can throw a punch,too.
At least Ezra’s got something going for him beyond stealth and his wits. Has he had to fight someone before? Worry sluices through me. After discovering his aversion to physical touch, I want to dissect his brain.
My phone buzzes again.Oh, and don’t worry. He’s twenty-three. Not underage.
Don’t care.
Not going to admit to Rev that I actuallydocare. It wasn’t far off from what I’d assumed, but I had hoped I hadn’t let a minor grind himself against my cock last night. That thought had haunted me all night. Which is another reason I’m in a rare fucking mood today.
Age shouldn’t matter, but at thirty-six, I’ve moved through so many different phases of my life compared to Ezra.
Though, that thought isn’t enough to shut down my desire to claim him.
Another text from Rev.If you won’t play with him, I will.
My blood pressure skyrockets as my fingers type away.Touch him and I’ll string you up by your toes for a week.
Don’t threaten me with a good time.
By 4PM, I’m white-knuckling my briefcase and my phone, rushing out of my office without looking back. Curious eyes blink at me from cubicles. Gwen seems to be the most concerned by my early departure.
“Headed out for the day,” I grumble. “Forward important calls to my phone—”
