Page 9 of A Quick Buck

Noah scowled. So much for that idea. He backed up so Junior could open the door the rest of the way. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Enjoy your shower,” Crybaby said cheerfully.

Noah grabbed some grey track pants and a matching t-shirt, stomping into his bathroom suite and then slamming the door. The only windows in here were tall thin slits, and there was no way he could fit through them. Fuck. There had to be something he could do.

He turned on the shower, hoping the sound of the water would help muffle his frantic search through the cabinets and under the sink. He had no phone, no tablet, and no computer. There was no way to communicate with the outside world.

Shit.

Defeated for the moment, he got undressed. He threw his clothes all over the place and happened to catch a glimpse of his ass in the mirror. He turned, awkward as it was, trying to get a better look at the damage.

Five long welts crisscrossed over his cheeks, and he couldn’t resist tracing each one. They were tender, definitely sore, and touching them made his dick twitch.

He got into the shower, standing beneath the spray and resting his head against the tile. The hot water usually felt good on his skin, but it made the welts on his ass burn like hell. The pain transported him back to that moment being held down on Alistair’s lap.

Being trapped, punished, and demeaned was totally humiliating. Alistair had even corrected his grammar, that son of a bitch. He’d never been so embarrassed before in his entire life. But then he’d called Noah a good boy, and those words added the most confusing emotion of all to the already volatile mix: pride.

It was stupid, but it made him feel good to have pleased Alistair. For a brief snippet of time, he had made Alistair happy, and he’d been rewarded with a compliment.

He didn’t know why that meant so much to him, but that was the thought he focused on when he took himself in hand and began to stroke.

His dick was hard, pounding, and he wanted to get off fast. The lingering pain of Brad’s betrayal fogged his concentration, and he hated how much it still hurt. Fuck, it hurt more than what Alistair had done and Brad’s bullshit hadn’t left a physical mark.

Noah was so tired of meeting guys and catching feelings only to have his heart smashed. Before Brad was a long line of guys who all used him, cheated on him, and one grand prick who ghosted him after Noah had taken him on a trip to his family’s condo at the beach.

He was nothing more than a good time for a short while. He was never enough for anyone. He wasn’t good enough.

But with Alistair…

The welts were suddenly hotter, and Noah reached back to drag his nails over them to increase the sensation. The pressure was building fast, the steam of the spray filling his nose, and he didn’t hesitate to let Alistair’s voice echo inside his head.

Good boy.

That did it.

He came hard, aiming his load against the tile and rubbing his cock there. The cool stone was the perfect counterpoint to the hot throb of the welts on his ass, and he grinded his hips forward until he was spent. His face and neck were flushed now, and there was a new twist of shame in his gut.

This was pathetic.

He didn’t need some crazy old man’s approval. It was stupid. Especially since that crazy old man was using him as bait to potentially lure his uncle back home to kill him.

Which still didn’t make any sense to Noah.

He bathed, rinsed, turned off the water, and got out to grab a towel.

Uncle Patrick couldn’t have killed anyone.

That would have required effort, and Patrick was the laziest person in the entire universe. It was why they had so many maids and servants, more than they needed to ensure Patrick never had to do anything resembling manual labor. Noah had never seen him even pour a cup of coffee.

There was no way he would’ve raised a finger to actually kill another human being.

Noah was curious as to the circumstances of this supposed murder, and he wished he had his phone so he could check the news.

Maybe there would be something about a recent killing, and he could try to figure it out. He’d always liked brain puzzles and murder mysteries when he was younger. If he could prove his uncle was innocent, then maybe these monsters would leave his house.

Worth a shot.

If he couldn’t get the information from the news, perhaps he could get his new escorts to talk. He could be charming when he wanted to be. It’s not like he had any other fuckin’ options right now.