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“Good, that’s good. So what you gonna do about it?”

Aaron grinned devilishly. “I’m gonna take off my clothes, then have you on my desk.”

Jett frowned. “My desk.”

“I own it.”

“Actually, I bought this one after I broke yours.”

Aaron gasped. “You broke my desk, and never told me. You evil man.”

He stepped back and started to undress. Jett looked as if he was about to say something, but then his jaw shut with a click as he watched Aaron take off his clothes. He looked good, knew he did, but Jett’s wide eyes confirmed it.

He dropped his jacket to the floor, then his shirt, his pants, his boxers, before pairing his socks, and placing them on the messy pile like a cherry on cake.

Jett licked his lips, taking in Aaron’s cock. It jutted out from his body proudly, all sticky at the head. Aaron squeezed the base, then advanced on Jett.

“Bend over the desk.”

Jett slipped off the edge, then did as Aaron told him. He ran his hands over Jett’s ass, marveling at the red lines he’d got from lying on top of the pens he hadn’t realized were there.

“About what you said earlier,” Aaron said, scratching his finger along one of the marks.

Jett shivered. “When?”

“On the stairs. You said you were gonna let Marlon fuck you, even though you didn’t want him to.”

“I—”

Aaron didn’t let him speak. He slapped Jett’s ass cheek, hard. A rush of air left Jett’s lips, and he tried again to explain.

“I wanted the night to be a success.”

Aaron struck his ass again, hard enough that a few feathers left Jett’s wings.

“You were gonna sell your body for a good review?”

“I just want the club to do well.”

Jett tensed, clearly expecting the palm to strike him. He whimpered, rocking his hips against the desk, then groaned when Aaron finally gave it to him.

“I wanted the club to do well to make you proud of me.”

Aaron closed his eyes, pursing his lips to release a slow breath. It was cute Jett wanted his approval so badly, but his means of going about it—Aaron shook his head.

“No.”

He watched Jett’s ass cheek ripple with the next slap, then caressed the red patch with his fingertips.

“You were gonna let someone else fuck you to make me proud. No, the thought does not make me proud. It doesn’t make me happy; it makes me mad. Really fucking mad.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

Aaron brushed the back of his fingers against Jett’s red cheek, then pressed his fingers into his crack, touching the outside, gently at first.

“Did you get yourself all ready for him?”