“Oh. It’s like … like a switcheroo!”
I grin at the sound of his excitement, giving him a nod. “That it is. So easy, it’s like taking anal beads from a mule.”
“I … don’t even know what that means.”
“You wouldn’t want to. My business isn’t always a clean one.” Trevor gives in to a fit of nervous tittering suddenly, drawing my eyes to him. “Something about that tickled you?”
“Yes. All of it. This. I feel like …” Trevor giggles even more. “I feel like I’m caught in the middle of some government espionage action movie. Here we are, racing across the city on the way to stop some super villain’s evil plan!”
“Unfortunately, he’s not a super villain. Just a pervy teen.”
That only succeeds in making Trevor laugh harder.
At least one of us is having fun.
Until we reach my private airport and he realizes he’s getting on a plane. “W-Wait,” he stammers when a man greets us by the car. “We’re flying?”
“On wings of steel.” I shoot him a crooked smile. “Still up for the fieldtrip?”
He stares at me, his jaw half dropped. “Do I have a choice?”
“Nope,” I answer with a wink.
Trevor is glued to his seat on the plane, and my eyes are glued to him, amused, watching as he experiences his first flight—on my privately-owned jet, no less. After the initial terror of ascension, he relaxes surprisingly quickly, then can’t seem to stop talking. He tells me about this one time he almost flew, then his family decided to turn their vacation into a road trip when the plane tickets proved to be too pricey. “Had to save up for college,” he explains. Then he tells me how he was always afraid to fly for no reason at all, and is surprised by how much the take-off felt like a rollercoaster. “Is that what it’s like to land, too?” he asks eagerly. I just smirk his way and answer, “You’ll find out soon.”
And he does. The landing is soft and painless, like the flight.
In just ten minutes, we’re in a rental car on our way to the drop-off location. Jazz sent the address to my phone, which guides us via a soothing, unpanicked voice. Though the flight was just under two hours, we also hopped two time zones west, so it’s nearly the same time of night as when we left.
And now, in the car, Trevor starts to get cold feet. “Wait, wait. What’s my role in this? Is the boyfriend dangerous? Or the buyer? Should we be armed? Oh my God. What am I doing?”
“In half a mile, make a left,” my phone calmly directs us.
“I’m just here for moral support, right?” Trevor asks, wiping his forehead. “I sit in the car while you go meet with this guy?”
“And miss all the fun?”
When I park along the curb, I pull my phone from the dash and text Jazz, since she’s tracking where Lukas is somehow. I never question how exactly she’s able to do what she does; I’ve just learned to trust her over the years because she’s never let me down. It has to be nearly morning over there in Germany by now, but Jazz never seems to sleep. I have a legitimate concern that she may be a vampire.
“I should probably hide,” whispers Trevor, his eyes wide.
“I’m taking care of this,” I assure him. “I’m just here to teach this stupid kid a lesson, fulfill my client’s wishes, and then we’re going home. Simple as that.”
“Yeah, it’s all ‘simple’ until he turns out to be a black belt.”
“I’ve dealt with morons like this before, and worse.” I incline my head toward Trevor. “Much, much worse.”
“Like what?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.
I give him a onceover. “Like a particularly obstinate intern.”
Trevor narrows his eyes at me, not appreciating my little joke. “And what did this particularly obstinate intern do?”
“He asked too many questions,” I tease.
Trevor snorts, but still isn’t calmed in the least. He fidgets endlessly, muttering his worries out loud, but the only thing that has my attention now is how his crotch looks in those formfitting jeans he chose to wear tonight. The sinewy muscles in his smooth forearms flex and twitch as he picks at his fingers, still rambling.
“You’re sexy when you’re freaking out,” I tell him, cutting off whatever he was going on about.
Trevor faces me, pink lips parted and eyes hollowed with fear. “Wh-What?” he gasps, thinking I’d said something else, clearly.
I put a hand on his leg. “I said you’re sexy …” My hand slowly slides to his inner thigh, which tightens. “… when you’re freaking out.” My fingers move farther in, reaching his crotch.
Didn’t take long; he’s already hard and flexing his response. Maybe he was hard already. Maybe he’s a thrill-o-sexual, like me.
“Your dick likes the excitement,” I note in a whisper.