Page 10 of Fighter
“Speaking of business…” Chris let the statement hang in the air, certain Jordan would understand where he was headed.
Jordan nodded at the screen so Chris skimmed the page, flinching when he saw the cost before waving his hand in approval. “Look at it this way—it will be a tax deduction next year. Along with any other items you purchase for your business. Clothes, toys, if you take someone out to lunch to discuss the job, things like that.”
Jordan clicked the mouse to place the order then turned to face Chris. The gleam in Jordan’s eyes as he leaned back in the chair, waiting, told Chris the jackass was going to make him say it.
“Anyway.” Chris cleared his throat. His mouth suddenly very dry, he downed the last of his beer before speaking again. “I’ve been watching some videos, and while they are very…educational…” Jordan raised one eyebrow and the corners of his mouth upturned slightly. “I only know what it feels like and what it looks like when getting head. I’m confidentgivinghead is somewhat, uh, different. Could you maybe, give me some tips? I mean is there a certain way to do it?”
Jordan snorted, crossing his arms over his chest, his body shaking as he tried, unsuccessfully, not to laugh. Chris glared at him. “Never mind,” he huffed.
He got up to stomp off to his bedroom and slam the door so Jordan would know he had hurt his feelings, but then Chris remembered…he didn’t have a bedroom, much less a door.Ugh.He sat back down.
“I’m sorry. Shit, it’s just too funny. You should see your face.” No longer able to hold it in, Jordan was full-on laughing at him now. Chris returned the one raised eyebrow, with more of a glare than a grin. Well, more like a glower. This, of course, only made Jordan laugh louder.
“Okay, okay.” Jordan held his hands up in surrender. “The best advice I can give you on performing the act instead of receiving is to do what you like. It’s not a lollipop or an ice cream cone; you have to be gentler than that. But then, there are parts of a cock you can be rough with, like, nibbling on the foreskin if the guy isn’t circumcised. Circling the head with your tongue and dipping it into the slit, licking your way along the side of the shaft, then gently suckling his balls into your mouth.”
Chris listened intently, oddly sort of aroused by Jordan’s description. That was, until he mentioned rimming. “I’m going to stick my tonguewhere?” Chris shrieked, and Jordan almost fell out of his chair.
Chapter Ten
So Shy
Three days later, Chris found himself on the couch he’d sat on the first day he interviewed for the job at All Cocks. He was dressed in a pair of loose-fitting jeans with strategically placed rips and tears running down the legs and a white T-shirt, wearing only socks, no shoes. Mattie had been in charge of his wardrobe and makeup, and Chris decided, as soon as he slipped the comfortable jeans on, that the twink would henceforth be his personal shopper. He’d never had a pair of pants fit so well, and Mattie hadn’t even taken measurements. When Chris asked Mattie how he knew the correct size, he simply shrugged. “You’re Victor on steroids, no biggie.”
Sitting across from him, Andrew asked simple questions, gently prodding. Chris knew the goal was to give All Cocks members more insight into their newest model, but it wasn’t easy. He answered with as few words as possible, feeling very uncomfortable and exposed, the flashing red light on the camera a beacon in the dark, screaming at him, the word “Run!” flickering obnoxiously. Chris rolled his shoulders, the tension in them almost painful.Dammit.Why am I so tense?
Andrew sighed, set the camera on the coffee table, and leaned back, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. That was all it took, one simple gesture, and Chris could look Andrew in the eyes with no flashing light or bulky camcorder between them. Finally, he started to relax, be more open and honest with his answers.
“So, tell me, Kris Alen. What is it you find most attractive in a partner?” Andrew asked. The camera was still rolling, the annoying little red circle doing its best to keep Chris from completely relaxing, but he forced himself to focus on Andrew.
Chris’s cheeks heated and he felt almost…shy. Staring down at his feet, he thought about how juvenile and absolutely ridiculous he probably looked. The thought made him grin, and the words came out. “Honesty, passion, and strength.”
“Jesus, that was fucking perfect, and it wasn’t even scripted.” Andrew smiled over at him.
Chris looked up at him. “Yeah?” he whispered.
“Hell, yeah.” Andrew sat up, bracing his elbows on his knees, his exquisite blue eyes sincere. “You’re sort of an enigma, Chris, all attitude and ink on the outside, rugged and handsome. I ask you one leading question and you blush, smiling shyly at the camera and answering in a low, sexy tone of voice. I think our members are going to be blown away by you, Chris. You’re very photogenic and most assuredly good-looking, but you’re not cocky. And, for lack of another word to appropriately describe the sentiment I’m looking for, your honesty is very endearing. Viewers are going to love you.”
“Oh…okay.” Chris sat back, completely at ease. He could totally see why some of the models referred to Andrew as “Mom.” Chuckling, he smiled and reached for his glass of water.
“Do tell, what are you laughing about?” Andrew prodded.
Chris waved him off. “It’s nothing. Wait, I completely forgot the camera was on for a minute there. Do we need to start over?”
“Nope, not to worry, I’ll edit the video before I post it on the site.” Andrew reached for his camera, sliding several of the magazines that were stacked on the coffee table underneath it. “I think I’ll leave the camcorder right here. You’re much more relaxed without it in your face.” Chris couldn’t argue with that statement.
“I love the work you’ve had done, Kris. Will you tell our viewers the story behind some of your ink?” Andrew slid into interview mode flawlessly.
“Well, there’s the tribal tattoo here on my left arm to represent my Irish heritage.” Chris rolled the shirt sleeve up to his shoulder, flexing his arm. “The roses and thorns climbing up my right arm are a reminder that while life is beautiful and unruly, it can be painful as well.” Wasn’t that the damn truth? Chris ran his fingers over his heart. “My first tattoo is here; it’s a tribute to someone special to me that I lost far too soon.”
He tamped down the urge to slump and fade into the wallpaper, instead leaning over and smiling into the camera. “I have a raven on my back with the wings stretching across my shoulder blades and a cross for a tramp stamp. I also have some ink on my legs.”
“I don’t suppose I could talk you into showing us today?” Andrew asked.
Chris shook his head. “Have to save something for later, right?” he joked.
“Fine.” Andrew pouted. “I see the top of something on your collarbone there. What is that one?”
“Oh, that is the Alabama elephant.” Chris pulled the neck of the T-shirt away from his body, turning his shoulder toward the camera, showing a simple, black, almost tribal-looking elephant. “When I was in high school and still dreaming of a career in the NFL, I had leads on a scholarship to the University of Alabama. A full ride—it was a sweet deal, let me tell you.” For the first time in a very long time, he felt proud of what he’d almost achieved. “But life had other plans for me, it seems.”
