Chapter 20: Damon Reid vs. Tristan Thomas: An explosive encounter…Angry encounter!

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The next time Damon saw Tristan, it was at a meeting in his office. Four days after their last encounter. And it was all he could do not to draw him into his arms and damn the consequence. There were bags under his eyes and he had lost weight but he still looked sexy as hell. Dressed in black jeans and a white long-sleeved designer T-shirt, with his aviator shades tucked into the V of his t-shirt, and leather cuffs on his wrists that matched his boots, he simply looked delicious. Casual. But that didn’t make him seem more relaxed. Tristan was strung tight as a bow, vibrating with tension and whatever else was eating at him. Damon could take a good guess.

Tristan was due in Paris in two days. They had to meet and agree on what was to take place in Paris. Caleb Thomas, the Architect and the Consultant for the Albatros project were also present at the meeting. Damon could barely concentrate on what was being discussed. He simply couldn’t tear his eyes off Tristan. Damn, he was hot. Tristan deliberately wouldn’t even meet his eye. He had never seen him all business like he was at that moment. Damon was so engrossed in the sexy man sitting at the table, he started when he heard the raised voices. What the fuck was going on? Damon wondered. Obviously, he had zonked out.

“Damon talk some sense into him.” Caleb Thomas said pointing at Tristan.

“No Dad. If I’m supposed to head this project, then you gentlemen must respect my opinion. I think the best thing to do is to start from the East wing and not the West. From these drawings, it will be our best shot. And that’s exactly what I’m going to ensure when I get to Paris.” His tone was stern, authoritative.

“But we’ve already agreed to start from the West wing. Ain’t we supposed to go by the plan?” Caleb Thomas sounded exasperated.

“Excuse me,” Tristan said standing to go out of the conference room.

“Damon?” Caleb looked imploringly at Damon.

With a sigh, Damon pushed his chair back. “I’ll be right back.” He went after Tristan.

The guard on the floor pointed towards the restroom when Damon asked where Tristan had gone. Damon entered and heard the toilet flush just before Tristan came out, going to the washbasin to wash his hands. He didn’t even look in Damon’s direction though Damon knew he had seen him. God, he had missed him. And if his rapidly hardening cock was any indication, he had really missed him.

“What are you doing Tristan?” He asked quietly. “Explain what the fuck just happened,” he added calmly.

Tristan ignored him. Damon stood with his arms straight by his sides. He felt everything in him, everything he was, go still as he took in the sight of Tristan. God, he was beautiful, and Damon couldn't look away. He was hard, so hard he ached.

"Tris." Only his name, but it was husky and rich and deep, filled with pain and longing and Tristan had to look at him.

His breath hitched in his throat at the look of pure need on Damon’s face, his gaze so hot it did crazy things to Tristan’s heart. But arguments rushed through his mind. Every reason why Damon couldn’t be serious about him, how heartlessly he had treated him, and the fact that he was obviously only good for one thing… Sex! Tristan saw red.

“Is the meeting being moved in here? If not, then get the hell out of my way.” Tristan started to dry his hands.

Damon abruptly turned on his heels and headed for the door. Tristan’s heart sunk. Just having Damon that close to him was giving him pleasurable flutters in his stomach. Now, he was walking away from him, when all he wanted was to go into his arms and hang on for dear life. Damn his big mouth.

He froze when he saw Damon rather lock the door and turn to look at him, unsure of what exactly was happening. Lord, he was so handsome, so goddamned sexy it was impossible not to stare at him. In his unmistakably costly gray three-piece suit, he looked every bit the powerful, successful businessman he was. Damon Reid looked so edible, Tristan wanted to fuck him with his suit still on. He watched with a pounding heart as Damon closed the distance between them and slammed his mouth on his, a hungry tongue, sliding its way in.

Tristan couldn’t help the moan that tore out of his throat as he opened his mouth and allowed Damon inside. Damon tasted of desperation and need as their tongue twisted around each other. But Tristan's brain decided that it couldn’t accept Damon’s need… wasn't about to be seduced like some schoolgirl. Not by a man who went around fucking people whilst his fiancée was out of town and even recorded the act. Tristan stood as firmly as he could and tore his mouth from the kiss, staring into blue eyes glazed with lust.

Tristan’s hands made their way onto Damon’s belt buckle and quickly undid it, pushing his hand inside his boxers to cup his wet-tipped prick with a warm, but less than gentle hold. Damon moaned deep in his throat.

“Is this what you want Damon?” Tristan’s voice took on a warm purr that caressed Damon’s senses, making his toes curl inside his shoes. Tristan swept the weeping pierced head with his thumb, smirking at Damon’s sharp intake of breath. Then he wrapped his palm around Damon's cock, pumping him firmly.

"Oh, Christ." Damon’s knees almost gave out under him. Though he could feel and see Tristan’s anger, Damon felt he could very well die from the pleasure of his touch. His eyes closed against the anger on Tristan’s face.

"Is this all I’m good for?" Tristan asked harshly in a voice filled with so much pain.

Damon’s heart stuttered. Words froze in his lungs, heat racing through his body, weakening his limbs. He knew he shouldn’t but couldn’t help himself. Tristan’s hands-on him felt so good. A ragged moan escaped him. Heavy pants filled the restroom as Tristan stroked him, jerking his cock from root to tip, thumb dipping into the slit.

"Does she make you feel like this?"