Eric sighed as he rolled up to the curb outside the city high
rise he and his father called home, shifting the silver Aston Martin into
park. As he swung up out of the driver’s
seat, he tossed his keys to Jimmy, the building’s valet, and headed for the shimmering
gold and glass doors held open for him by the building’s doorman.
“Hey, Pete.” Eric
gave a half nod to the impeccably uniformed older man as he passed; Pete had
been the evening doorman for the building as far back as Eric could
remember. Continuing inside without
pause, Eric popped up the brief set of stairs inside the lobby two at a time,
headed quickly for the elevator just as a well dressed couple stepped out of
it. The man, balding and several inches
shorter than his beautiful statuesque brunette wife, talked rapidly on a cell
phone, absorbed by his conversation. The
wife canted her head and smiled at Eric, following his move into the elevator
with a sultry look. Her lips moued in
disappointment as he gave her only a half smile, then punched his code in to
access the floor he lived on, the elevator doors closing moments later.
In the lobby, Pete checked his watch against the clock
behind the desk with a puzzled expression before turning and holding the door
for the Calder’s with a polite smile. He
couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Eric Jackson return for the evening
before the wee hours of the morning.
Eric closed the door to the fridge and set the bottle of
beer in his hand on the adjacent countertop, deftly applying the bottle opener
to the lid. Dropping both opener and lid
on the polished granite counter, he lifted the brown glass to his lips and took
a long draw of the hoppy brew. Lowering
the bottle, he frowned, glancing first at the bottle and then briefly around
the steel and cherry wood appointed kitchen.
His eyes paused on the clock hanging over the breakfast bar. 10:23. Eric smirked ruefully, took another long
drink of the beer, and turned toward the living room.
Flopping down on his black Italian leather sofa, he laid his
head back on the matching pillows and closed his eyes, toeing off an expensive
pair of leather shoes. For the last two
weeks he hadn’t so much as stepped foot inside a night club, Kane’s warning
ringing loudly in his ears every time he contemplated it.
But again tonight, as with every night since the night he
was arrested, Alyson and Miria, his two biggest fans, had each called, pleading
with him to come out with them. Swayed
by their pleas and telling himself dammit, he would not be pushed around by a
damn lawyer, regardless of how intimidating he was, Eric had shimmied into a
pair of slick black leather pants and a dark green Prada long sleeved Henley,
mussed his short tawny locks just so and headed to the club.
An hour later he was on his way home.
Eric reached up and touched his forehead with the back of
his hand. Nope, no fever. He didn’t feel particularly sick… and yet…
He’d arrived at the club determined to have a good time, to
kick up his heels and get his party on.
The girls had screeched their excitement over his appearance and clung
to him, doing their damnedest to be sure he was as well taken care of as he
possibly could be. But even as the bass
beat of the club’s music thumped in his chest, Kane’s words tickled in the back
of his mind.
After nursing a single drink for forty five minutes and
turning down any number of offers for both illicit substances and even more
illicit acts, he finally admitted defeat.
He also admitted that Kane was right.
He’d been acting like he was invincible, doing whatever he wanted,
whenever he wanted and damn the consequences – because there never were any
real consequences for him. Sure, he’d
been arrested plenty of times, but there was never any real threat of actually going to jail. That would look bad for Daddy, so it would
never happen. But Eric had no illusions
that Kane’s threat was dead serious. He
would follow his advice through to the letter.
Eric tucked his right hand under his head and crossed his
ankles, staring up at the vaulted ceiling.
He hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of Kane in the past two weeks, not
even when Dad had actually gotten a hold of him for The Lecture, yet the man
had haunted him in nearly every waking moment.
Eric shifted uncomfortably as the front of his pants grew even snugger. It didn’t help that he
couldn’t stop wondering how good that body would taste under his lips.
It was almost a bigger mystery than how Kane had known about
his predilection.
It was a well kept dirty little family secret that Eric had
a taste for – as his father put it – ‘unacceptable’ bedfellows. Back in his college days there had been a
small matter involving a rather public fight featuring an exorbitant amount of damage to public
property between himself and a frat brother.
His father had nearly had a stroke when it had come to light, and to the
local newspaper, that the frat brother was actually a jilted lover bent on
exacting a little retribution when he discovered just whom Eric had thrown him
over for.
After that little mess, Eric had been expressly forbidden to
“embarrass” the family with any further such relationships. What he did in private, his father had ground
out between clenched teeth, was his own damned business. However, anything that made it into public view
and caused a black eye for the company - that was a different story entirely
and any transgression there would be punished swiftly. While many of the threats his father made
were undeniably idle, that was one Eric had taken seriously. As incentive for his compliance, and no doubt
in an attempt to be sure he had plausible deniability, Jackson Sr. had the
following week purchased Eric his own apartment on a separate floor in the high
rise. However little father and son had
to do with each other before, it was even less once they had wholly separate
living spaces.
Eric leaned up slightly and drained the last of the beer
from the bottle then reached out over the edge of the sofa to put the empty
bottle on the coffee table. Settling
back down, he returned his right hand to its place under his head. His left hand drifted down to rest on the
waistband of his leather pants as a pair of flint grey eyes flashed in his
mind.
Closing his eyes, Eric pulled the memories of the morning
after his arrest to the surface; the feel of the cool metal desk beneath his
cheek, the sting where Kane had slapped his ass. His left hand drifted down over the tight
leather of his pants, fingers kneading at the growing bulge at the juncture of
his thighs. Biting his lip, he bucked
his hips under his own touch, pressing harder against the leather encased
flesh.
Nimble fingers pulled open the clasp and unzipped the fly,
but the tightness of the garment stymied him until he wriggled out of the pants
just enough to wrap his fingers around his hardening flesh. Eric groaned softly as he picked up a rhythm;
swift, firm strokes that matched the memory in his head, the cadence of Kane
thrusting into his ass sure and hard.
Eric pressed his head back into the pillows, arching his neck. Needy sounds of pleasure spilled from his
lips as he squeezed and stroked, his hips bucking hard to meet the rhythm of
his hand.
Memories gave way to fantasy and Eric imagined Kane’s lips
on his neck, his teeth in Eric’s shoulder, his hands on Eric’s cock. Eric bit back a shout as he came hard, his
body shuddering and jerking beneath his own touch.
Breathing deeply as the rush faded into something far more
mellow, Eric opened his eyes and glanced down at the mess he’d made of himself,
idly wondering if he’d ruined the ridiculously expensive shirt.
Rolling his shoulders, he kicked his feet over the side of the couch and
sat up, pushing himself up and off the sofa with his clean hand. He peeled off the soiled shirt as he walked
toward the master bath and tossed it unceremoniously on the laundry pile.
Several minutes and a minor struggle later, Eric dropped the
leather pants on the floor of the bathroom and stepped into the steaming
shower, dropping his head forward and leaning on one arm against the tile wall
as the near scalding water sluiced over his shoulders. First he was going to get cleaned up.
After that, he needed to figure out just what the hell to do
about the problem of Justin Kane.
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