KIT
“You goingto patrol the fridge next, Sergeant?” Kit drawled.
It was three hours after Quinn had left. Kit was bored. Like ready to pick a fight bored. And the only person in sight was Red, who was patrolling the clubhouse—again.
Red ignored him and headed for the window to test the locks.
Geez, how many times has he checked the damn locks. If they weren’t open before, they sure as hell aren’t open now.
Kit gnawed on his thumbnail. He was so tempted to mess with Red by opening a couple of them when he was out of the room, just for shits and giggles.
Red would suspect him, but seriously, what could he do? Kit shivered a little at the thought. Images of him over Red’s lap, pants trapping his legs, bare-assed naked, being ‘disciplined’. Oh yeah, Kit would be down for that.
He licked his lips and contemplated his next move.
If only Tony wasn’t here.
The thought of being spanked by Red was a real turn-on. Being caught by his brother, not so much.
Red turned to leave the room and Kit rolled to his feet, stretching his arms above his head, making sure his tight shirt rucked up to display his snake. He watched closely to see Red’s reaction.
Nothing. Not even a flicker of his eyes. He just walked by him and left the room.
Dammit. Kit stamped his foot in frustration. Kit didn’t believe in false modesty. He knew he was a handsome man. In his teens, he’d been more androgynous, lithe, with cheekbones to die for. After years of dancing and swimming he was more muscled, but with the shape of an athlete, not a gym bunny. He had a great canvas for his ink.
The piercings were just an extension of the ink, and they annoyed the hell out of his brother. Tony didn’t know about all the piercings though. Kit called them his fun times. What would Red make of them? Would he love them or hate them? Kit brushed the rings in his nipples, making himself gasp. Did Red know how to work a chain? More X-rated images crossed through Kit’s mind.
Kit looked down at the bulge in his jeans, so tight it hid nothing. The last thing he wanted was Tony to ask why he was sporting a boner. Red now…he could ask. Kit rearranged his cock. He needed to calm the hell down. This wasn’t a night club. He wasn’t going to get a happy ending.
Maybe he’d have a different happy ending. Something to upset Sergeant Red on his next round. Kit grinned. He jogged over to the window and tried the lock. The window didn’t budge. Kit looked around for the key. Red had probably walked off with it. These were old windows. All they took was a nudge…
Job done, Kit went in search of fresh entertainment. Red was nowhere to be seen, but his brother was bellowing at someone on the phone in his office. Kit grimaced. As every other word was an expletive, Kit decided to avoid his brother for now.
God, he was bored. He went in search of his quarry and found him in the kitchen talking to one of the younger guys from CDR. They were both drinking coffee and involved in a heated discussion over a tablet.
Kit watched the two of them for a moment. Neither of them had spotted him. Anger roiled in Kit’s belly as he glared at the handsome bodyguard with glossy black hair. Kit would kill for hair like that. Why did he have to stand so close to Red? He was almost breathing the same air.
The young guy looked up and smiled at Kit, his smile fading when Kit didn’t return it. He murmured something and Red looked up.
“Hey, Kit. Do you need me?”
There were so many ways Kit could answer that and none of it was PG rated.
“No, I’m just getting chips and soda.”
Red frowned and looked at his watch. “It’ll be lunchtime soon.”
Kit rolled his eyes. “Are you on snack patrol now? I’m a big boy now,Dad.”
“Yes, but…”
The other man nudged Red which set off flames in Kit’s head. He ignored the chuckled “He’s got a point, Red,” and stalked into the pantry. He found an old tray decorated with Harleys, and filled it with chips and salsa and a pack of soda. Then he tossed a pack of cookies and added two chocolate bars.
He eyed the over-filled tray. If he ate all of that he’d feel sick. He reached out to the fruit bowl and added a banana. There. He was healthy. He picked up the tray and walked back out of the pantry, steadfastly ignoring the two men as he helped himself to a cup of coffee, then headed for his bedroom.
Kit dumped the tray on his chest and stripped off his shirt and jeans for a faded gray t-shirt, soft gray sweats, and adarker gray hoodie. He wore bright color relentlessly, but his comfort clothes were all muted colors. Then he took the coffee, retreating to his window seat, and staring out at the heavy clouds promising more rain.
Kit took one swallow of the coffee and tried not to gag. Even with creamer, it was bitter, over-brewed and barely warm. Three out of three reasons to dump it in his sink and scowl as the horrible brew went down the plug hole. He returned to the seat, ignoring the food. He wasn’t hungry now.
