Page 105 of The Associate
And nearly collided with a man coming in.
The man was tall, impeccably dressed in a navy blazer over a dark t-shirt, his blonde hair artfully tousled. He had a rakish, confident air, and his face broke into a grin as he saw Gael. Then his eyes, a piercing, assessing blue, flicked from Gael and landed squarely on Samuel.
The grin froze.
Samuel knew him. Vaguely. A memory surfaced: a brief visit to the firm weeks ago. This man had swept into Gael’s office in a rush, leaving a wake of whispered speculation among the associates.
Landen.Landen something.
Landen’s gaze on Samuel was intense. It took in his face, his posture, the slight disorientation he knew was still visible in his eyes. The surprise in his expression morphed into something sharper, more knowing. A smirk played at the corner of his mouth, an eyebrow quirking up as his eyes darted back to Gael.
Samuel felt instantly, intensely uncomfortable. He felt like a specimen, an unexpected and intriguing bug under a magnifying glass. He dropped his gaze to the stone step, his shoulders tensing, the old, familiar urge to shrink away surging back.
Gael, who had been a step ahead, turned. Samuel saw his profile tighten, a muscle feathering along his jaw. Annoyance, cold, swift, and potent, radiated from him in a nearly visible wave.
“Landen,” Gael said.
“Wise,” Landen replied, his voice a smooth, amused baritone. His eyes were still on Samuel, the smirk now fully formed. “Leaving so soon? And with… company. Care to introduce us?”
“No,” Gael bit off the word. He didn’t wait for a response. His hand found the space between Samuel’s shoulder blades again, and pushed. He propelled Samuel forward, past Landen, down the steps to the waiting car with a firm, unyielding pressure.
Samuel stumbled slightly, his face burning. He could feel Landen’s eyes on their backs, could almost hear the silent laugh.
Gael opened the passenger door for him. Samuel slid in, his mind reeling. Gael got in the driver’s side, started the engine with a low, smooth growl, and pulled away from the curb with more force than necessary.
The silence in the car was thick.
They drove several blocks, the city lights streaking past in smears of gold and white. Samuel watched Gael’s hands on the steering wheel, the knuckles taut.
Finally, he couldn’t stand the quiet. His voice, when it came, was small. “Who was that?”
Gael was silent for a long moment. Samuel saw that same flash of annoyance cross his face before it was schooled back into impassivity. He glanced over, his eyes reflecting the dashboard lights.
“A friend,” he said, the word clipped. “And one of the owners of the Club. Just like myself.”
Samuel blinked. The words took a second to process.Owners of the Club. His mind rewound, replaying the serene authority with which Gael had moved through the space, the respectful nodsfrom Charles and Anya, the way he’d explained the rules not as a member, but as someone who helped write them.
“Wait,” Samuel breathed, his eyes widening as he stared at Gael’s profile. “Owner? You own the club?”
Gael glanced at him again, a brief, assessing look. He gave a single, slow nod. “Yes. Me and a few of my friends.”
The revelation settled over Samuel, layer upon layer. Gael wasn’t just a patron of this world. He was a pillar of it. An architect.
Samuel nodded slowly, wanting to ask more, but quick glance at Gael's face told him that he wasn't in the mood for talking. That annoyed look was back. He turned his head to the other side, eyes gazing through the window. He said nothing else for the rest of the ride.
∞∞∞
The apartment door clicked shut behind them softly. Samuel took one unsteady step toward the living room, his mind a shimmering, overwhelmed kaleidoscope; fragments of crimson light, the sound of a flogger hitting skin, the heat of his own yearning. He needed a moment to process. A breath.
He never got the chance.
Movement, fast and blurred. A hand fisted in the front of his shirt. Samuel’s world spun. His back slammed into the solid, unyielding wood of the front door, the impact punching a sharp, breathy gasp from his lungs. Before the sound could fully escape, Gael was on him.
Samuel’s lips parted on a shocked, ragged inhale, and Gael’s tongue surged into his mouth; a hot, wet, claiming invasion that sought to conquer every hidden space. It was thick and demanding, stroking deep against Samuel’s own tongue with a greedy, possessive rhythm. The sound was obscenely intimate in the silent apartment: the wet, slick slide of their tongues meeting, the ragged pull of their breath mingling, the faint, sucking noise as Gael sealed his lips more firmly over Samuel’s, as if he could drink the very essence of him.
A deep, guttural groan vibrated from Gael’s chest into Samuel’s mouth, a sound of pure, starving need.
Gael’s hands were everywhere, mapping him with a frantic, possessive urgency. One fist tangled brutally in the hair at Samuel’s nape, yanking his head back to expose the vulnerable line of his throat, even as his mouth continued its relentless plunder.
