Page 3 of Baiting Kong

“What’s your name, boy?” Kong asked as he moved a lock of hair out of Scout’s face.

“Scout, sir.”

“Alright, Scout, here’s the way we’re gonna play this. You’re gonna lie there, and you’re gonna let me hear anything you likeabout what I do, got it? I don’t want you quiet, and I don’t want you still while I lick this fine-ass tequila off your skin.”

“Yes, sir,” Scout replied, nuzzling against the hand Kong was using to arrange his hair.

“Do you belong to anyone?” Kong asked as he finally moved his hand away to crack open the bottle.

“No, sir.”

“Then how’d you get to be behind the bar?”

“Teddy. I needed a job, and he said they needed help here and brought me over,” Scout explained. “I’m not usually behind the bar, though. I’m the janitor. They just needed extra help tonight.”

“Looks like you know how to handle yourself back there.”

“Yes, sir, my brother and his buddies taught me to bartend.”

“Did he teach you how to carry a tray full of pitchers through a rowdy crowd the way you did?”

“No sir, fuckin’ up taught me how to get it right.”

Seeing the big man’s lips quirk up in the ghost of a smile was a good feeling, and Scout relaxed against the wood as Kong poured his first shot, then drizzled it over Scout’s chest, the cold making him tense and giggle. The moment the sound left his lips, his eyes widened and he felt his cheeks heat up, ‘cause damn it all, he wasn’t supposed to be giggling like that around these men. How many times had his brother pointed out that he just wasn’t hard enough? The last thing he needed was for these men to think the same thing too.

Kong’s eyes narrowed as he took a pinch of salt between his fingers. “All the sounds. Every last one.”

Shocked, Scout let the breath hiss from between his teeth as he sucked in air, the feel of Kong’s finger tracing salt over the tequila he’d poured, one that made him arch and shiver.

“When was the last time someone touched you?” Kong asked as he reached for a lime.

“Two days ago,” Scout replied.

Maybe that was too honest. Maybe Kong wouldn’t want anyone who he thought was being passed around, but it wasn’t like that. No one in the Jokers had laid a finger on him until tonight.

“I’m gonna erase every memory you have of them,” Kong replied, leaving it at that, and it was a good thing too; Scout didn’t have a name to give him. He didn’t know the name of the man he’d been with, not his real one anyway. The man who’d been directing their video shoot had called him Ace.

Kong took his time with the lime juice, squeezing a little down the center of his chest and across his abs. When his fingers slid into Scout’s hair and he tugged just a little, before his tongue started chasing the lines he’d made, Scout’s back bowed as he arched up off the wood, mewling at the feel of it laving over his skin.

Cool air hit the warm, wet places Kong’s tongue left behind, and Scout shivered, then whined as more tequila was poured on him.

“How long ago did you start working here?” Kong asked as he repeated the process of rubbing coarse salt over Scout’s skin.

The roughness produced a different sensation, but it wasn’t a bad one, not even when Kong ran it along his side, making him gasp and then giggle again when Kong’s finger hit a ticklish spot. The man seemed to get a kick out of that, and with every lick, every lap, every drizzle of lime, and trickle of strawberry-lime rimming salt, he found a new way to make Scout squirm.

“Fuck, you taste good,” Kong groaned as he latched on to a tequila-soaked nipple and slowly sucked it clean.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Scout moaned, body tensing for a moment as he fought back the urge to rock his hips until he remembered Kong’s instructions and gave in.

“That’s it, don’t hold back. Not one little sound, not one little squirm. I want them all and anything else you’re willing to give me tonight.”

“You can have whatever you want; I’m good with anything,” Scout replied, almost wishing he hadn’t said that, because there were a few things he had absolutely no interest in, not that the man who ran the video shoots cared when creating the scripts.

“Never tell someone that unless you trust them implicitly,” Kong cautioned, pausing in the middle of another line of salt to meet his gaze.

The fierce look unnerved him slightly, but the concern he sensed in those warm brown depths disconcerted him more.

“You can get yourself hurt, trusting the wrong people,” Kong said as he gently traced a fingertip along Scout’s jaw.

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