6. Dante

SIX

Dante

I already have my bike parked across the street from the medispa when Kenzie arrives in my Jag. Kenzie and Tristan.

He signed it. He's here.

My dick has been hard ever since I got Kenzie's confirmation. It throbs in my black jeans as I watch him get out of the car. My hands tighten on the handlebars, but I don't let myself grind against the seat I'm straddling. That would only make it worse.

I'm sweating in my leather jacket and helmet, but I keep them on. I don't want Tristan to see me. Kenzie knows I'm here, but she doesn't look my way.

Until Tristan uses his safe word, I'm free to stalk him. You see such a different side of people when they don't know you're watching them.

Tristan halts, staring at the front of the medispa. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his worn jeans. They're so worn that they've crossed over into stylish, but I don't think that's how they started. His green t-shirt is snug enough to reveal his athletic body. His arms are more toned than I expected, but it's only a tease. I won't really get to see his body until I strip everything away.

One hand comes out of his pocket and scrubs at the back of his head. A nervous gesture. He doesn't like this. I didn't think he would.

This place is good though. Not that I would ever let anyone wax my balls, but Rafael vouches for it. They'll draw blood for testing too. He'll be here a while. Getting ready for me.

I have to close my eyes for a second, so I miss the exact moment of his decision. The next thing I see is Tristan, both hands in his pockets again, walking through the doorway with Kenzie.

When she emerges ten minutes later, I've already stowed my helmet and leather jacket in the Jag. My dark shades take the edge off the September sun. They also help hide how much I'm struggling right now.

But Kenzie can still see how tight my mouth is, and I haven't yet gotten my dick fully under control.

"We can drive around," she offers, but I shake my head. The walk will help.

It's a few blocks to the deli. By the time we arrive, my erection is finally gone.

She pulls the rolled-up contract from inside her blazer and hands it to me. I give her a look.

She shrugs. "Where did you want me to put it, boss?"

"Just go order, Slade."

While she stands in line, I find a booth. I do my best to flatten the paper then flip to the second page. I stare at Tristan's signature. It's a print-cursive mixture. Parts of it are soft and self-contained, but there are a few sharp points. I run my finger over it. My dick stirs back to life.

I'm going to be so damn sore. But then, I've been sore a lot since I first laid eyes on Tristan Marshall.

I'm going to have him.

My fingers will be inside his ass.

My cock will be inside his ass.

I wonder what he looks like when he comes. I wonder what he sounds like.

Kenzie slides in across from me. I don't try to hide my fixation. There's no point.

"You gave him Noah," she says.

I frown at where he wrote Noah's name and number on the emergency contact line. "So what did Tristan say, exactly?"

"He was sharp. Upset when I pushed him on it."

"He didn't explain?"

"No. He clearly didn't want to talk about it."

The temptation to research him is strong, but I won't do it. I'd rather learn about Tristan from the inside out.

"You gave him Noah," Kenzie says again.

I pin her with a look. She's overstepping.

She stares right back at me. "Dante. He's your contact."

"I gave him to Tristan. Which was my decision to make. Drop it, Kenzie."

"What is it about this one?"

My heart skips. I fixated on Tristan instantly. I'm rushing. Kenzie knows it. Whatever shows on my face makes her sigh. She looks away and shakes her head.

"You're a bad employee," I tell her.

"Oh yeah? Try replacing me, Adesso, see how it goes."

It's not clear whether she means that no one would be able to replace her or that she would never allow anyone to replace her. Both maybe, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

A number is called, and she goes to get our food. She returns with two baskets. Mine has extra pickles. Hers is mounded with fries.

"Wash your hands before you get back in my Jag," I warn her as I pick up my turkey club.

"If I can get blood out of that thing, I think I can handle a little grease. These are the best fries in the city."

"Bad employee," I reiterate.

"Asshole bosses get bad employees. It's just how it is."

I grin. She's almost like a friend. But she still better wash her fucking hands. She will. She's just being a dick.

"He seemed nervous," I observe.

"He was. Judging by his living arrangements, I'd say he's never been in a place like that. And I wouldn't know, but I'd imagine it's nerve wracking to get your balls and hole waxed for the first time."

"Don't talk about his balls. Or his hole. Those belong to me."

"They're all yours," she says dryly, biting a fry in half. Kenzie is bi but leans heavily toward female partners.

We dig into our food, but the curled up contract is an irritation in the corner of my eye. I can't let it go.

"Don't roll up a formal document again." My voice is harsh. Pissed off. Anyone else would squirm. Kenzie snorts.

"Why, was it going in your scrapbook?"

"I will fucking kill you someday, Slade."

"No you won't. It's against the rules."

"Ah, but think of all the things that can happen within those boundaries."

I say it to Kenzie, but it's Tristan I'm thinking of. The thing is, I know what can happen within those boundaries. He, however, has no idea.

But he's about to find out.