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“Yes…”
He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the chair as he began to fuck his fist in earnest. The sight of him unraveling in front of me was like some kind of magnetic pull. It had to be. That was the only reason why I was on my feet, moving across the room and stopping in front of him.
“Preston.”
His eyes snapped open as I reached down and covered his hand with mine.
“Ohfuck…” Preston’s breath caught as he sucked in a deep swallow, his eyes glazing over as I tightened my fist around his.
“You can follow orders, can you?” Damn, I was in so much trouble. “Then show me. Be a good boy, and come.”
EIGHT
preston
THE THROBBING IN my head was what woke me up. It felt like it was getting smashed in a door repeatedly, and all I could do was lie there and take it.
Ugh, even my eyes hurt, which was why I couldn’t seem to pry them open.
And then there was the unease in my stomach that I didn’t recognize, like a turbulent storm had rolled through, leaving my insides swaying precariously.
God, this had to be the hangover from hell. I remembered doing shots with East, though how he’d convinced me to join in was beyond me?—
Wait.
Shit.
I’d been the one to ask him, hadn’t I? Because I’d been pissed off at Mr. Carrington.
My eyes flew open, and that was a mistake. The sun was too bright, sending a fresh wave of pain through my skull.
Was this all from alcohol, or had East given me something even stronger? Because damn, this was intense. It didn’t help that I’d apparently fallen asleep in a chair, judging by the stiffness in my neck and back. I forced my eyes open again.
I was in a chair…that wasn’t mine.
Squinting, I shielded my face from the sun streaming in windows—also not mine—and realized in a heartbeat where I was.
I was at the Carringtons’ place.Mr.Carrington’s place. Sprawled out in a leather chair with a blanket over me. How and why was I here?
The house was quiet as I pushed the blanket aside, but when my bare chest and undone pants came into view, I sucked in a breath. Holy shit, what happened to have me half-naked and alone in a chair at Mr. Carrington’s house?
“That was quite the performance you put on last night.”
I looked up to see Mr. Carrington staring at me, his head slightly cocked, his hands in the pockets of his pants.
He was already dressed like he was heading to the office, in a navy suit and tie that cost more than most people’s rent in the city, or at least from what I’d heard.
Goddamn he was gorgeous, and that wasn’t the alcohol lingering in my system doing the talking. Mr. Carrington wore a suit better than anyone I’d ever seen, and even as hot as that was, I couldn’t help but wonder what was underneath those layers.
His gaze roved over me and a faint smirk appeared as he took in the exposed skin my blanket had uncovered. Belatedly I realized he had a full view of my unzipped pants, my briefs tented with the hard-on that mornings brought.
I pulled the blanket back over my lap—not that he hadn’t already gotten an eyeful—and felt a flush of heat rise up my neck. It wasn’t that I didn’twantto offer Mr. Carrington a view of me, but I was feeling a bit off-kilter, not sure what the hell was happening and figuring I probably looked like a mess, if my clothes were any indication.
What was I doing here? And what did he mean about putting on a performance?
“Preston?”
“Mr. Carrington, um?—”
