Page 9 of Now Comes the Dark

He knew in that second that Mallon could ask anything of him tonight, and he would deliver.

Chapter Four

“A sweet taste of what’s to come.”

The Vermont Hotel had been a part of Roman’s life for as long as he had lived in Blyham. As a student, he used to work seasonal shifts in their Michelin-starred restaurant and had covered tables at one of their many corporate events. These days, he could see it’s majestic ten story structure from the other side of the river on his journey to and from work. But in all those years, he had not set foot inside one of the bedrooms…until tonight.

He had been surprised when Mallon told him where he was staying. From his laid-back attitude and street-fighting ways, he’d expected him to have a room in one of the budget chain hotels, of which Blyham had six, situated in all areas of the city. He should have known better than to judge a man by his appearance.

The Vermont stood out among the crowd of high-end bars, restaurants, shops and hotels that dominated Blyham’s chic waterfront district. It was the jewel in a gentrified crown.

They arrived by Uber. No more taking chances on the dangerous streets. Mallon showed his room card to the twenty-four-hour concierge, and they crossed the marbled floor of thereception. There were still people drinking in the hotel’s foyer bar. He knew there was another bar, on the roof terrace, though Roman doubted that would be serving at this hour.

They entered the lift alone, and Mallen pressed the button for the seventh floor.

As soon as the doors closed, he was on Roman. He grasped his head in both hands and kissed him. Roman was a few inches taller than Mallon, but the older man dominated him in every way, pushing him against the wall of the elevator and shoving his tongue into his mouth. Roman gripped his shoulders, surrendering as Mallon ground his bulge against his hips.

The passion of the kiss disarmed him. Roman’s legs trembled as he thrust his tongue against Mallon’s, experiencing the heat of his breath, the raspy contact of their stubbled skin. Few of the men he had met on a casual basis were into kissing. Many of them refused to do it, and those who did were often terrible. Not Mallon. This guy knew how to kiss and make it count.

Roman squirmed, grinding his hips against his cock, discerning its size and girth. It had been completely concealed by Cameron’s greedy mouth in the club, and he had no idea what to expect, but from the way Mallon pressed it onto him, he would not be disappointed.

The doors open. Mallon slid a hand around Roman’s waist and shoved it down the back of his jeans, cupping his arse. His fingers slithered into the sweaty crack. Roman caught a quick breath. This man was bold. He knew what he wanted and went for it. As they walked along the corridor, Mallon’s fingertip found the hot opening, and traced the rim.

“Tonight, your ass is mine.”

Roman nodded and licked his lips. His mouth was dry. “Yes. It’s all yours.”

“To do what I want with?”

“Anything.” His insides tightened, and a fire of need burned in his butt like nothing he’d known.

They reached the door of his room. Mallon swiped the card, and they went inside.

It was more than a hotel room. There was a large seating area with a sofa, armchair and coffee table, and the bedroom was around an L-shaped bend. This had to be one of the junior suites. Roman had heard of them but didn’t know what to expect. The décor was all cream, beige and gold, illuminated by multiple side lights strategically placed around the room. Whatever Mallon did for a living, whatever had brought him to Blyham, had to be worth a lot of money.

Mallon withdrew his hand from Roman’s arse. He raised his fingers to this nose and sniffed, before grinning and sucking the tip.

“Mmm,” Mallon said. “A sweet taste of what’s to come.”

He crossed to the seating area. He had a languid, sensual way of walking. Roman stared at the mounds of his buttocks in his tight jeans. There was a marble-topped bar in the corner. Mallon pulled forward two tumblers. There was a bottle of whisky on the top. He splashed a generous measure into one of the glasses before raising the bottle to Roman. “Eh?”

“Vodka, if you have any.”

He opened the fridge beneath the bar and pulled out a couple of miniatures and Diet Cokes. “Help yourself,” he said, moving to the armchair and sitting down. He crossed his ankle over his knee and reclined, sipping the whisky.

Roman showed his scuffed palms. “Mind if I use your bathroom first? To clean these up.”

Mallon jerked his thumb. “That way.”

Roman’s breath was short and fast as he ran his hands under the tap. The bathroom was even posher than he’d expected. Hesmiled nervously at his reflection, not ready to believe any of this was happening.

Mallon was lounging in the armchair when he returned, looking sexier than ever.

Roman stumbled to the bar.Why do I feel so self-conscious in front of him?Mallon moved with the lythe grace of a cat. Roman was a clumsy puppy in comparison.

The vodka was Grey Goose. He emptied one of the miniatures into a glass and topped it up with the Coke, before taking a deep drink. “You were right,” he said. “This is a lot better than what they serve at The New Inn.”

Mallon shrugged. “What could be worse than that piss?”

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