Page 14 of Leather and Longing (Island Tales #3)

Chapter Eleven

Dinner was over. Adam had taken it in his room, unwilling to spend more time in Paul’s presence than was absolutely necessary. He needed a clear head to contemplate what to do next, and Paul messed up his radar.

It had seemed a simple enough idea to convince Caroline he was coping. But in the process of setting the scene for her, Adam had regained something vital, his own sense of self. Paul had shown him that he could cope. Better than that: Adam had realised he didn’t need Paul. He didn’t need anyone .

So you’re happy going up and down stairs now? It’s suddenly become easy? You can even do it without the cane?

Adam knew his successes of the last day or so were minor. He still had to use his hands on walls and furniture to track where he was, and despite his trip to the salon, he was nowhere near ready to venture outside on his own.

I’ve managed for two months. I can keep on managing.

Except it had been more a case of existing, and he knew it.

All I want is to be left alone with my thoughts.

That was easier said than done. Getting rid of the previous companions had been ridiculously simple. Adam had blown up at them, roared, growled—in short, he’d done everything he could to make them so damned unhappy, they’d been desperate to quit.

The plan had run aground when Paul arrived.

He’d stood firm against Adam’s verbal onslaught.

Not only that, he’d given as good as he’d got.

And although in the beginning that had piqued Adam’s interest, he’d had enough.

He didn’t want people around him. He wanted to shut himself away in his house to lick his wounds in private.

That left only one course of action.

Paul had to go.

Only, once again it wasn’t that easy. Paul wasn’t like the others, and the idea of pushing him until he felt he had to resign, made Adam dislike himself intensely.

The man didn’t deserve this. But there was no way Adam would allow himself to become dependent on someone.

He’d reflected on the events of the last two days, and he could see it coming, could see the way he’d begun to rely on Paul.

Adam would not allow that to happen. There had to be something he could do. He couldn’t fire Paul: the young man could take him to an employment tribunal for unfair dismissal on the basis that Adam had no grounds to fire him.

The only way was to make Paul want to leave.

Adam lay on the bed, letting his thoughts flit to and fro, searching for any clue, any way forward. He replayed every conversation over and over again, looking for a weakness, something he could use to his advantage.

What came to mind was the bathroom. That initial silence when Paul had entered. The way Paul’s voice had cracked. The silence that had fallen afterward. The awkward feel to the conversation.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Adam would have to be careful. He couldn’t lay so much as one finger on Paul.

The success of his plan would all hinge on one thing—the fact that mind-fucking was second nature to him.

Because if he played this right, straight boy Paul would be left feeling so uncomfortable, he wouldn’t want to spend another night under Adam’s roof.

And there was no time like the present.

“Paul, could you come to my room?” he called out, sure that his words would be heard. His fingertips found the top button on his radio-controlled watch, and a mechanical voice intoned ‘The time is now nine p.m.’ Paul would have finished cleaning up in the kitchen.

Adam climbed off the bed and quickly found the armchair. He sat back against the seat cushions, listening to Paul’s footsteps on the stairs, followed by the quiet creak of his bedroom door as it opened.

“Come over here.” Adam kept his voice low. He waited until he could sense Paul standing closer. Adam took advantage of the silence. He pursed his lips and sniffed the air, waiting until he could hear Paul fidgeting.

“You wanted something?” Paul asked, a tremor in his voice.

Adam licked his lips and ran his fingers over his chin. “What do you look like, Paul?”

“Excuse me?” He heard the note of puzzlement in Paul’s voice.

“It occurs to me that you’ve been working here a week, and I don’t know what you look like.

” He waved his hand. “I don’t want to do that whole, ‘let me feel your face’ routine.

I’d prefer to hear you describe yourself.

” He settled back into the chair, fingers knitted together, resting in his lap, his face turned in Paul’s general direction.

“Oh, okay.” There was a pause. “I’m five feet eight, lean. I have longish brown hair, wavy on top, and blue eyes.”

Adam lifted his eyebrows. “Not sure why, but I pictured you smaller, maybe even with mouse brown hair, the nerdy type.” He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. “Do you work out at all, Paul? Do you like to get sweaty lifting weights?”

The brief silence that followed Adam’s question revealed much. Paul hadn’t expected that, and Adam found himself wishing he could see Paul’s expression. He could almost visualize it, the flushed cheeks, the startled eyes, the perfect picture of a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

“Yes, occasionally.” The syllables were drawn out, giving his words an edge of reluctance. “I focus mainly on my upper body, my chest, back and arms.”

Adam liked that image. It was a pity he’d never have been likely to run into Paul in London.

He sounds as if he’d be my type.

“Hmm.” Adam gave a hum of approval. Time to move things up a gear. “What’s your mouth like, Paul?”

“My-my mouth?”

“Uh-huh. Are you a good kisser? Do your lovers like to suck at your mouth?”

More silence, which was how Adam wanted it. He wanted Paul off-balance, not to mention freaked out.

“I have been told that, on occasion.” Paul’s voice was quieter.

“You like to kiss?”

“Yes.”

Adam moved in for the kill. “And how would those lips feel sucking a dick?”

That hitch in Paul’s breathing told him plenty. With every second of silence, Adam could almost feel the shock that had to be coursing through him.

“Well, that depends. Would it be your dick I’m sucking?”

What. The. Fuck?

“Of course, I’ve only seen you soft. I’m assuming you can still get it up. I mean, you are forty, right? That’s positively prehistoric.”

Oh my fucking God.

Of all the things Adam had anticipated, why wasn’t Paul being gay one of them? Disconcertingly, his cock reacted, pressing against the zipper of his jeans.

He growled. “And what if I decide to spank you for that remark?” Anger burned in him, that Paul had turned out to be exactly the one thing that would make his fucking plan crumble.

“Supposing I show you what happens to cocky little shits?” He tried to ignore his stupid hardening shaft, but oh my God, that picture in his head: Paul stretched out over him, his arse a nice bright red, Adam’s handprints clearly visible.

He couldn’t get rid of the image, his brain going into a loop.

“You think you could?”

Paul was really poking the bear tonight.

“I’ve spanked enough mouthy little subs in my time to know what I’m doing,” Adam ground out, his palm itching at the thought.

A slight noise told him Paul had moved closer. A second later there came the unmistakable sound of a belt being unbuckled. A zipper being lowered. The soft slide of fabric on skin. And fuck , he could smell Paul, the musk rolling off him in waves.

“So where do you want me? Over your knee? Although with that boner you’re sporting in your jeans, I don’t know which of us is going to be the more uncomfortable.” Paul’s voice was steady, seemingly unfazed.

Adam took a moment to breathe, desperate to regain his composure. He clenched his fists. “Get out. Get out !”

More fabric against skin, the harsh sound of a zipper and a belt being refastened. “Yes, sir.” Then Paul was gone.

Adam collapsed into the chair, his whole body shaking.

Why didn’t I envisage this scenario?

Somewhere, someone was having a giant laugh at his expense.

Adam had a gay companion.

Adam’s plan had most definitely backfired.

And Adam had opened a whole new can of worms.

He had a feeling sleep would be a long time coming.

Paul leaned against the wall at the foot of the stairs, trying to slow down his racing heart and his breathing, but each time Adam’s words rang out in his head, loud and clear.

Oh, my God. His dick was still hard. What the fuck? What the actual fuck was professional about any of that? Part of him got Adam, understood why, a man alone for so long with no intimacy…

Paul gulped in air.

‘And what if I decide to spank you for that remark?’

That was the man’s game.

Is that how he got the other companions to leave? Paul recalled asking himself that very question the day of his interview. His heart pounded. He had never been a quitter, but why the hell did he have to push back at the man?

‘And what if I decide to spank you for that remark?’

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Heat surged through him. Memories. Sounds. Groans. Cries.

It was only a second or two later that the realisation hit him.

He wanted Adam to make good on his threat.