Boston Avant-Garde 4: Encore by Kaitlin Maitland Page B

he got up, and Jericho found his gaze transfixed by the sight. It looked as if it was getting firmer, hardening into a length of satiny steel that would thicken with a lover’s touch.
    “Keep looking, and it’ll give you something to see,” Dante quipped.
    Suddenly uncomfortable, Jericho wrenched his gaze up to his friend’s face. “Flaherty is waiting.”
    “Or you could just mention that and I’ll deflate like a balloon.”
    Ignoring the dig seemed like the best option. “I’ll head back down while you get dressed.”
    “You don’t want to wake her and tell her you’ll be back?”
    If he woke her, Jericho wouldn’t be able to make himself go. He’d had a hell of a time doing it before, when he knew he had no choice but to handle the three dancers waiting in the stairwell and the incapacitated guards in the West Suite. “No need to disturb her since you’ll be back shortly.”
    Jericho didn’t address the question of whether or not he’d be returning. Dante and Suri had obviously slept together. It didn’t bother him, though he wondered if it should. Shouldn’t a man be bothered by the idea of sharing a woman with another guy? Wasn’t there some sort of assumed exclusivity? Did Dante expect Jericho to back off now that he’d obviously professed some kind of interest in Suri? Or was it acceptable for the three of them to continue where they’d left off the night before?

Chapter Eight
    Dante watched Congressman Eagan Flaherty pace from one end of the office to the other. If the man thought Dante could be pressured by a show of displeasure, he was sadly mistaken.
    “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now with this bid for the Senate, Torres.”
    Dante didn’t comment. He wondered if the congressman’s constituency ever got to see this side of the man. His dark hair was usually impeccable, his face clean-shaven, and with a wide smile plastered on his handsome features. At the moment, he looked like a pouting toddler.
    “I need to let off some steam.” He quit pacing and glanced over at Dante as if he was trying to see if he’d made any headway. “My wife is my political partner, not a sex kitten. I need a good lay. Not some high-maintenance mistress who’ll run me in circles. I need a woman who knows how to scream when I fuck her and keep quiet when I’m done.”
    “There are a dozen women here at the club who fit that description. And if I’m not mistaken, you brought one with you.”
    “Yeah, that one had to go. Turns out she was more about a payday than a playday. Mistresses are expensive. I just want a woman to fuck.” Flaherty turned abruptly, smacking his palms on the desktop and giving Dante a look that bordered on crazed. “You seem to think there are dozens of willing women, but not the one I want. You’ve taken the hot little belly dancer off the menu. Is that what I’m understanding?”
    “Unfortunately, not all women fall into the category of what you’re seeking.” As unintentional as it may have been, Suri’s dance had managed to irrevocably snag the congressman’s attention. “But I’m certain we can find an equally tantalizing alternative. In fact, I’d be more than happy to comp you the house suite on Level Four and a private gaming table of your choice for the remainder of this week. Given that atmosphere and time frame, I’m certain finding a way to let off steam won’t be a problem.”
    Flaherty straightened, looking down his nose at Dante. The obvious attempt at intimidation fell far short of the mark. The congressman might have had an inch or two and sixty pounds on Dante, but Dante could’ve put him down like a dog had he wanted to.
    “You better hope that’s the case, Torres, or I’ll have to take matters, and your sassy, off-the-menu employee, into my own hands.”
    A surge of anger had Dante leaping to his feet before he could suppress the urge. “Don’t threaten me, Flaherty. You won’t like where it leads.”
    He faced the pampered politician