Don't... (28 page)

Something slipped in his eyes, and caught in the tangle of sheets at my feet, I went down pretty quickly as Jan twisted and took me down.

I fell hard against the bed, my hip smacking into the metal, and I doubled over it. Jan followed quickly, dropping behind me, using his body weight to keep me down and doubled.

“This what Ben did to get you—get you going?” A hand going between us, Jan freed himself and his cock slid against my left cheek, leaving a wet trail in its wake. “Sexy as fuck, you standing there, all hard, horny, and looking all pissed.”

I stilled as a bite went to my shoulder, one hard enough to bruise skin.

“Turn you on, huh? That knife-play on your skin?” Another three bites, lower this time, his hands digging, sometimes spreading my ass as he rubbed himself against me. “Shall I get Gray to teach me that, huh? Get him to teach me how to hurt you? That what you need to get off?”

“Jan.” I kept my voice calm, level. “I’m going to ask you to stop now, and you’re going to listen.”

“Fucking see the way you look at him.” Another bite, a groan, grind of hard dick down against my balls, no condom. “Just pretend I’m him. And if you add that ‘please, sir, don’t,’ all that bullshit he enjoys, it will seem so much more fucking real.”

“Jan. Second warning. I’m telling you to stop.”

A chuckle. “Fuck, Jack, you’d safe-word me if this ass of yours wasn’t up for it. Besides,” a grab at the back of my hair that forced my head off the bed, “you’re here for my pleasure—not yours.”

A quick shift of body to the left, I slipped my elbow over Jan’s arm, my arm snaking his, breaking the grip on my hair, then, hand under his jaw, showed him the floor, all a hell of a lot more careful with his head than I would have been with anyone else in this scene. He went to punch at my ribs, but I pinned his hands level to his head, forcing him to quit.

“Jan, look at me.” He did, but there was a hell of a lot of anger, hate, and hurt on display in his eyes. “I love the bones off you, Jan, you need to know that, it’s what I wanted to say the other day,” I said inches from his face. “I know you’re going through something right now and it’s not all contract related. Hopefully you’ll trust me enough to share it with me sometime. But you also need to know, you can have me anytime you fucking want; my body, mind, soul, it’s yours. But my safe word—” The briefest of kisses, I eased off and let him go. “You didn’t have one when I hit you,” I said quietly. “And I’ll face all five Masters and take whatever punishment they can muster before I’d use a safe word around you.”

Jan was still for a moment; then I was nearly tipped off as he bucked and struggled beneath me. “Get the fuck off,” he snarled, and I pushed to my feet to see him struggle to his.

“Nice speech,” he said, and stopped close to my ear, his breath staining my cheek. “You just forgot to add the ‘
sir
’ at the end of it.” He pushed past and stumbled to the door. “Forget the fucking food. I’m not hungry anymore.”

The door slammed behind him and stumbles and curses made their way to Jan’s bedroom, a moment later his door slammed shut too. After a moment, I looked back to the window to see the blinds had settled, the night tucked safely into bed, and I allowed my body to relax. Shoulders aching, I grabbed the sheet off the floor and got in bed.

I’d known play-rape for almost ten years, a few had gotten out of hand a couple of times, Ben’s being the last. Jan’s roughing up was relatively soft in comparison, no real damage done, yet—

I pulled the sheet up over my body, and the shaking in my hands made the cotton hard to keep close. In a way I was glad the MC’s hadn’t got involved this time, maybe deciding I’d handled it the best way. Having them here would have only made things worse.

Whatever dreams kept me twisting beneath the covers had a dulling effect on my body. I woke staring at the wall, not really thinking much, enjoying the pattern of the blinds on the wall as the sun finally made an appearance. Then the ache on my shoulders filtered in, the lack of interest in my groin, and...

The sun seemed to lose its warmth. After a moment I pushed the sheet off and headed for the bathroom. Jan’s bedroom was further down, up a few winding stairs that would bring me back on myself. I passed the bathroom, stopping only when I came to the stairs that would take me up there. Part of me wanted to go and see if he was okay, but guilt kicked in. Just how much had I added to his head fucks? He’d said it himself in the café, it wasn’t him, and Christ knows I didn’t recognise part of the man I’d seen last night. Was that how I’d looked to him? More than just a harmless stranger?

Feeling sickness tumble in my stomach, I headed back for the bathroom and washed up. Knowing Jan needed to stay out of life for a few hours longer, I went and dressed for work, this time changing coveralls for black suit. I didn’t mind either; coveralls paid one-half of my staff’s wages, my suit, the other half. If I wasn’t used to wearing either to get the job done, there wouldn’t be a business. The meeting with Deputy Director Strachan of Post Haste was scheduled for nine, and if everything went to plan, it would see a constant turnover of work in our direction that would secure us for another five years. Not that the business needed the contract to survive, but it would mean life was a little more comfortable for all of us, including Steve who had more than shown he was capable of running a garage on his own.

After refilling the coffee machine, I set a bowl and spoon next to the Muesli on the table, then set about cutting some fresh fruit for Jan; just some strawberries, raspberries and a few others for him to add to his cereal. I doubted he’d be up for too much, so I kept it light. I’d grab something from McDonalds, maybe a hot chocolate; I’d have to ride over to the garage to get the presentation I’d worked on anyway. Standing there looking down at Jan’s breakfast and thinking about last night, I frowned.

In the kitchen drawer next to the hob sat a pen and pad. I took both over to the table and wrote a note. The message was brief, but hopefully enough.

’S okay.

Love, Jack.

I’d never said the L word to any man, not even my old man who had put up with so much shit, and certainly never Gray. Things came a lot easier with Jan, and that was probably the first time I’d found anything about relationships easy, admitting it. I wasn’t angry with him, just myself for hitting him and forcing him into being something he didn’t want to be, that he didn’t know how to be.

I headed on out to the driveway, and for once there was nothing wrong with my car, no notes, nothing, so I managed to get off on time.

“You know that your father’s company, Martials, has offered to cut your proposal offer by twenty-five percent?” Strachan thumbed the file of papers barely even giving me a glance. Slightly overweight, balding at the crown with a thin sheen of sweat just visible up top, he looked bored if nothing else, and he threw my proposal on the table to sit back in his chair. “Five garages at various locations around London, not to mention over fifty staff, you can see where and how Martials would benefit my company more, Mr. Harrison.” There were murmurs of agreement from around the huge oval table. Some eight other men and women, bar Strachan and myself, were in on this presentation, and even if I’d lined my paperwork with gold, I could see why Martials’ gift offer looked better.

“And if your father is bidding to take this from you, I have to question why,” added Strachan.

Stood over by the presentation board, I smiled down at my feet. “My father owns a first-class business, Mr. Strachan, with first-class mechanics.” The presentation board had been worked hard, and I switched it off, even though I had winged it most of the time. “The fact he’s offering to undercut any offer I make by twenty-five percent tells me he knows a good company to bring under his fold when he sees one.”

I went back to the table and took my seat. “His locations and business placement over London means you have access to garages as and where your business needs require.”

There was a huff from the man sitting next to Strachan, a Mr. Leese. Names were important to me, and I made a point of memorizing each one in turn around this table.

“You make a fine spokesman for your father’s company, Mr. Harrison.”

I linked my fingers in my lap. “I respect my business colleagues, Mr. Leese, especially when it comes to my father. If he’s making this offer, then he is doing so with your best interest at heart, not with malice to any offer I have proposed.” And it was a damn good offer after all. “But where he proposes access to any of his garages across the London borough, I’m offering units I own close to your main building with a handful of top mechanics at your disposal to ensure minimal breakdown time.” I tapped the folder in front of me. “It’s all well and good having a number of garages to call on for service and emergency, but you then have to fit into a tightly knit schedule that incorporates over a half dozen businesses already.” I looked around to each person. “What I propose is simple: a service whose sole purpose is you.”

“Aren’t you taking away mechanics from your own firm?” asked Mrs. Mann (not a name anyone could forget). “You only have a handful as it is. How would that sit with your regular customers?”

I gave her a smile. “I work with Government apprenticeships, as well as local colleges and universities to provide job opportunities for school leavers. I’m a huge advocate of providing youth employment and training. Three apprentices of mine have been with me for two years now and will finish training next year. All have expressed wishes to work full time with my company. Moving three of my best mechanics, not to mention a first-class manager over to you will allow me to take on another six trainees and three full time mechanics. I learned from my own childhood never to waste an opportunity.” I started to collect up my paperwork. “But I learned from my father that only loyalty and compassion will earn you the right kind of opportunity.”

I got to my feet. “By all means, go with my father. He will have your best interests at heart. But with my offer, my mechanics and I will be at the heart of your business, answering to me, but at your disposal with your vehicles where other courier services rely on garages like my father and his client list.” My watch gained my attention. Half twelve. Had it taken that long? “If there are no further questions, ladies and gentlemen, I’ll leave you to your deliberations.” I was tired, and soon it would begin to show.

“Thank you, Mr. Harrison,” said Mrs. Mann, and I left them there not convinced one bit I’d won them over. My father was a good businessman and had done his homework. Time would only tell.

I headed for their canteen, not really hungry, I’d pretty much lost my appetite since waking, but coffee sounded good. Coffee always sounded good. It was a decent hour’s drive back to the garage, and I needed the caffeine to help see the rest of the day through.

Grabbing a paper and coffee, I chose to stay in the main hall with the lunching couriers. It was usually the best place to catch any grumblings about the company. But most of the chatter from the nearby tables surrounded family life and the price of petrol. A good sign the employees were pretty happy with their work. They avoided me, but then most manuals always avoided the suits.

A few sips into my coffee, Mr. Strachan’s secretary came over and tapped my shoulder.

“Mr. Strachan would like to see you in the boardroom, Mr. Harrison.” She gave a business-like smile. “This way, if you please.”

I headed back into the boardroom to find everyone else had left bar Strachan, who stood over by the windows, then, seeing me, pushed away and came over.

“Jack, after careful consideration....”

This didn’t sound good. Just as well for the day to start off in shite, then end up further down in it by nightfall.

“C’mon, Jack, this is killing me.” Steve’s voice notched up a few octaves over the mobile. I sat in my car, trying to finish another coffee. “How’d it fucking go?” said Steve. “Do I break out the champagne or get Sam to do your windows in again?”

That wasn’t funny. Not in the slightest. “Make it the champagne, anything else and I’m throwing Sam through your windows.”