Page 12 of Roguefinder

Nah. Himbo wasn’t Stefanos’s style. He’d call me a “rapscallion” or something. Or maybe a classic like “fucking idiot.”

The sound of running water drifted from the kitchen. Cupping a hand over my aching erection, I rushed for the stairs.

In the bathroom, I prepped and showered with the speed of a Formula One pit crew. Towel slung around my hips, I stood in front of the closet debating what to wear. Naked was probably too on the nose. Plus, Jesse definitely liked watching me strip. I could make a show out of that. Get him nice and worked up so he forgot about “talking” and skipped straight to making me come.

Yeah, a strip tease could be a nice little diversion. Going wolfy had beefed me up far more than football ever had. My abs were washboard-tight, and my ass was begging for someone to bounce quarters off it. Or crowns, I guessed. Jesse paid for everything with his phone, and my grasp on British currency was as good as my knowledge of the Bible verses my parents had tried to make me memorize.

Settling for lounge pants, navy bikinis, and a thin gray T-shirt that groped my chest, I headed back downstairs with my cock leading the way like the hood ornament on a Rolls-Royce.

Real fucking smooth, Lawson. Jesus Christ.

Jesse sat on the leather sofa in the living room, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee. He’d dimmed the lights to almost nothing, but the shades were open, letting in light from the street. The storm the weather woman promised had arrived. Thunder boomed, and rain lashed the windows.

Jesse’s eyes were two golden orbs that cut through the shadows. He’d changed his wet clothes, but I swore he hadn’t been upstairs. I would have felt him. Knowing his Type A meticulous ass, he’d stashed spare clothing around the townhouse for spontaneous fucking. Not that I was complaining.

I hovered in the doorway, waiting for him to speak. He didn’t, and the patter of rain continued, water running down the glass around us.

Swallowing, I folded my arms.

No, too aggressive.

I unfolded them and shoved my hands in my pockets. “About earlier⁠—”

“Take off your clothes,” he said.

Okay.

More blood pumped to my dick. I pulled my shirt over my head, my skin tight and my guts all twisted and shivery. The combination of desire and humiliation had confused me back when I was new to Jesse’s games. I hadn’t understood why I craved them—why I wanted to be embarrassed and angry. I’d only known that he made me come like a mountaintop getting fracked off its foundation.

But I understood it now. Submissive was the official word, despite the denial I’d lobbed at Sterling. That arrogant fuck.

Jesse watched as I tossed my T-shirt away and shucked my pants. Kicking them aside, I straightened, hands loose at my sides, my bikini underwear the size of a cocktail napkin. Heat flashing through me, I let Jesse look.

And I looked good. My skin was always smooth and sun-kissed. Not even the English rain could steal my tan. I’d never had much body hair and these days I kept my junk manscaped to a slutty little patch I knew Jesse liked.

Glowing golden eyes roamed my body, cataloging my chest and abs. My dick and thighs. Jesse perused like he had all the time in the world. Which he did, of course. We both knew who controlled the clock.

My cock swelled, and damp spread over the fabric covering my tip. Right on cue, Jesse focused there.

“I like your new panties, college boy.”

Okay, then. RIP Caleb Lawson.

Some hot, shameful part of me wanted to cover my groin. A bigger part of me wanted to stay just like I was, exposed and leaking, my shame on display. Like a dog turned loose on a sunny day, it wanted to race over the grass and roll around in it.

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, which was suddenly doing an impression of Death Valley. Swallowing hard, I tried for “thank you” and ended up giving a halfhearted grunt.

Jesse stared at my dick with glowing eyes, and I envisioned the damp patch spreading like a movie on fast forward. “You’re making a mess.”

“Yes, sir,” I rasped.

Finally, he met my eyes. “Take them off. Show me how messy you are.”

A blast furnace went off in my face, my skin so hot it was a miracle the rain slicking the windows outside didn’t turn to steam. I hooked my thumbs in the waistband and took my time pushing them down my legs, and I might have let my dick swing a little as I stepped out of them. Straightening, I stood there with my erection pointing at Jesse like it wanted to shake his hand.

“Turn around,” he said.

My heart thudded in my ears, a whole drum solo pounding in my skull. Skin prickling, I obeyed.