Bad Boy Billionaires 2 : The Wall Street Shark(32)

The loft was one vast open-concept space with exposed brick walls and a modern kitchen that had glass cabinets, concrete counters, and one of those huge complicated faucets that had always reminded Evan of an instrument in a doctor's office. The floors were stained concrete and all the pipes, wires, and duct work had been left exposed. Evan preferred less open-concept and more private, individual rooms. He didn't mind seeing the kitchen during a dinner party but he didn't like sleeping in a bedroom that overlooked the living room.

Carson gestured to the living room area and told Evan to have a seat on one of his brown leather sofas. "Can I get you coffee? We can order out, too. I'm not much of a cook."

Evan walked over to him and reached for his arm. He rubbed it gently and said, "I have a better idea. We can eat later. I don't like to cook either." Then he took Carson by the hand and led him to the other end of the loft where he found a large bathroom that had been sectioned off with partial sliding walls made of rice paper and wood.

"What are you up to?" Carson asked. Evan glanced to his left and saw a large sunken bathtub that had been tiled in white marble. "You're going to take a nice hot bath and relax. After what you've been through tonight, you need to be pampered a little." This was one of Evan's nicest, yet worst, faults. He actually liked to pamper the men in his life and he didn't even know why. He'd never been subservient in other areas of his life, just with the men he cared about. It was one of the reasons he'd always let Jeffery get away with so much. Unfortunately, the men in his life had always taken advantage of this.




 

 

"Normally I would argue with you," Carson said. "I hate baths. I prefer showers. I haven't used that tub in a year. But to be honest, I am a little sore."

Evan smiled and crossed to the tub without replying. There was a large shower on the other side of the bathroom with more white marble that could have accommodated five people with room to spare. But he thought a bath would be nicer. He'd never met a man yet who didn't like to be pampered and bathed, with gentle strokes and soothing rubs. The bigger the ego, the more babying they liked. He also knew Carson was more than a little sore, but he didn't want Carson to know he knew this. While the tub filled with hot water, Evan turned down the lights, lit a few candles Carson had placed around the perimeter of the tub, and gathered a couple of clean towels from a stainless steel shelf. He poured a generous amount of body wash into the tub so there would be bubbles.

While Evan had been drawing his bath, Carson had gone into the bedroom to remove his clothes. When he returned wearing nothing but white boxer briefs, he sent Evan a glance and asked, "Aren't you going to join me?"

Evan hadn't removed his clothes. He was kneeling beside the tub, checking the water to make sure it wasn't too hot. He looked up and smiled. "No, I'm not joining you. This is for you to relax, not to get worked up all over again." He noticed the bulge in Carson's briefs. It rounded out in such an obvious way he couldn't help but notice it. He also noticed Carson's lean wiry body again. He had some hair on his legs, but not much. His muscles stretched more than they bulged. Even though his knees leaned toward being knobby and his legs slightly bowed, every inch of him was masculine in an athletic way Evan had always found hard to resist in a man. Without shoes, his feet even seemed a little too big for his body. None of this bothered Evan. The only physical traits in men that had ever turned Evan off were soft white-pink skin, weak features, tiny hands, and small feet.

Carson frowned and said, "I think it would be nicer if you took off your clothes, too." Evan stood up and laughed. He'd already planned to take off all his clothes and get into the tub with him. But not this soon. He walked up to him and reached for the waistband of his briefs and said, "I told you. This is just for you, not me." Then he gently lowered Carson's briefs, went down on his knees, and helped Carson step out of them.

Before Evan stood up, he took a quick glance between Carson's legs and held his breath for a moment. His dick hung semierect and seemed to be growing slowly without a hint of encouragement. Oh, those poor sexless spinster types who ran from big dick and weeping cock would have been clutching their proverbial pearls and swooning in agony. The psychologically damaged types who liked to objectify gay men, turning them into effeminate quasi-women by making them dickless creatures of the worst kind, would have been thoroughly repulsed. It was thick at the base and narrowed slightly toward the head: the kind of dick Evan had always liked most-the kind of dick no gay man alive would ever reject. It wasn't quite as big as Jeffery's, but it wasn't what anyone would ever consider small. He wanted to reach for it; he wanted to worship it. He didn't want to just suck it; he wanted to swing from it. But it was still too soon.