The Rent Boy (EDITING)

Chapter Twenty-Three: There Isn't Any Competition-

    "...hello? Ash!" A sharp sting spread across the right side of my face. It took me a moment to realise Nate had slapped me. 

    "What the fuck was that for?" I said, voice hitching up to a squeal as I shot him a judgemental glare. 

    "What's wrong with you today? You're miles away." 

    I sighed, shaking my head. "Just have a few things on my mind, sorry." I flung my arm over my eyes, huffing out a sigh. 

    "Spill," he demanded. I dropped my arm back to my side, staring up at Nate who had propped himself up on his elbow to stare down at me. The sheets of the bed had slipped further down his torso, covering just above his hips. 

    "Nah, wouldn't wanna bore you. Besides, you don't pay me to talk." 

    "I pay you to do whatever I want, and right now I want you to spill. Anyway, we've already fucked, so I'd say I got my money's worth." A sly grin slid into place, accompanied with a quirk of an eyebrow.  

    "Yeah you're right. I should probably leave, then." I flipped the sheets off me and planted my feet on the floor, eyes searching for my jeans which, if I could recall, were tossed somewhere by the window. Before I could stand up, my arm was caught in a firm grip that forcefully pulled me back. 

    "But Ash, I'm not finished with you just yet," Nate's voice whispered softly, breath hot against my ear. My head was resting atop his chest, left arm still being held in his vice-like fist. His other hand slid down over my shoulder and furthermore until it stopped just long enough to capture my nipple in a sharp pinch, teeth grazing over my ear teasingly. 

    "I thought you'd got your money's worth," I said distractedly, eyes too busy watching his hand slide further down my stomach, not stopping. I only just had the sense to grab his wrist and hold it still, palm flat against the dip below my belly button. He smiled against the side of my face, lips slightly parted where the hot air of his mouth was blowing against my skin. 

    "I'm willing to pay extra," his voice was a low growl. Slowly, he pulled my left hand up towards himself, hand straightening out my fingers and favouring my index as he slid it inside his mouth. He curled his tongue around the tip, giving it a long, wet suck before releasing my hand completely. My arm dropped like lead against Nate's stomach, I couldn't find the energy to move it. My brain was too busy staring at Nate's tongue, peeking out from behind his teeth, a wide grin across his lips. 

    "I'm worried about a friend," I murmured. I don't know what triggered me to say that, but at that moment I couldn't pull myself out of the dazed feeling that had washed over me.

    I watched Nate carefully as his expression smoothly shifted from humour to a sort of fond confusion. I continued voicing my thoughts aloud, without really thinking about what it was I was doing. "I'm scared that he's not well. I feel like there's something he's not telling me, and I'm not sure I wanna know what it is. But it's killing me not knowing, too." 

    It was strange seeing that look in Nate's eyes. Soft, gentle with a hint of moisture - like my words had caused him to feel sad. I wasn't quite sure why he was watching me so intensely. His blue eyes seemed to fade to a grey, almost empty-looking, like he'd zoned out and was recalling an old memory. 

    "He's a good friend?" Were the first words he said, after a minute or so of silence.

    "He's a client- used to be a client...still is...I- I don't know who he is anymore. He doesn't pay me, but he still calls me. I still see him. But we can just talk now, for hours. S'all we do. Talk. Feels like we're the only people in the world."