Daddy’s Precious Pets (The Lactin Brotherhood)

Chapter 1

DADDY DORIAN

“Damn, you went all out for this, didn’t you?” I asked, leaning over so I wouldn’t have to yell over the music for Aspen to hear me.

“You only turn forty once,” Aspen declared.

He was rocking out a mauve and gray suit tonight, looking sharp as hell, even with a matching tie that read I’m the birthday boy. Knowing him, he’d had it made just for the occasion.

A loud tsk from the other side of Aspen accompanied Parker’s eyebrows shooting up. “Forty? Please, you haven’t been forty in fi…”

“If you finish that statement, there will be no lap dance for you tonight.” Aspen explained.

“Wait, we’re getting lap dances?” Parker asked, expression immediately turning contrite.

“As of this moment, Dorian and I will be the ones getting lap dances while you go find someone to refill these drinks. I’m so parched my tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth.”

The bored expression Aspen shot him as he held his glass out for Parker to take was almost as amusing as the pouty look on Parker’s when I held my glass out to him too.

After more than thirty years of friendship, he should have known not to give Aspen shit about his age.

He’d been thirty for at least three years, and thirty-five had been met with steadfast refusal to even acknowledge the day.

He had thrown himself a rave at thirty-eight, but that was only because it coincided with the announcement that he’d be playing the lead role in All Roads Lead Within, a play that had been in pre-production at the local theater.

In reality, this birthday was his forty-fifth, but with lap dances on the table, I knew to keep my mouth shut.

The moment Parker was out of earshot, Aspen let out a fit of giggles and doubled over, shaking his head.

We were tucked in a somewhat private corner of our favorite club, in wide, plush leather chairs, sipping colorful cocktails while waiting for the next bit of entertainment Aspen had arranged to arrive.

One thing about him, when he promised a good time, he delivered.

We’d already been treated to a mini-drag show with the finale being the trio singing Happy Birthday to him while feeding each of us a cupcake.

Kinda sad that the most action I’d gotten all year was sucking buttercream frosting off a drag queen’s latex gloves.

“Here ya go,” Parker said, handing me a pale pink drink with three cherries bobbing in crushed ice.

Aspen took a sip of his the moment it was in his hands, lips pursing as his face scrunched up.

“Whoo-wee, what in the world,” he sputtered, licking his lips and eyeing the glass suspiciously.

“A sourpuss for a sourpuss,” Parker said, raising his glass in a gesture to Aspen. “Seriously, that’s what the drink is called.”

It was only then that I noticed that his glass, like mine, was rimmed in sugar, while Aspen’s wasn’t. Crisp, refreshing, and clearly made with some sort of grapefruit concoction, it really was quite good with the crunchy sugar accompanying it.

Aspen shot a squinty-eyed look at our glasses and giggled again before raising his glass in a matching salute. “Touché, my dear. Just know the game is on.”

The way those two went back and forth, it wouldn’t have surprised me if they got over themselves one day and realized that they were perfect for one another.

Hell, there were times when I secretly hoped for it, if only so they’d stop getting wrapped up with people who didn’t deserve my two amazing friends.

Unfortunately, their tastes drifted towards men who loved to play games and leave devastation in their wake.

No, thank you. We were all getting too old for that shit.

One of many reasons I’d remained single these past few years.

That and I’d been hard at work getting my business off the ground.

Long hours and literal blood, sweat, and tears had gone into the launch of a successful storefront that Aspen managed for me.

The man had a head for business that rivaled only his passion for the theatrical, but that was to be expected from a man who, like me, found fame at a young age and rode it until the wheels fell off.

It wasn’t that either of us had needed to immerse ourselves in second careers; we were just blessed with the type of restless energy that left us constantly striving to achieve more.

The beat hit first, iconic enough that I recognized it in seconds, but I was a huge Lady Gaga fan, and You and I happened to be one of my favorites.

A lone spotlight appeared in the center of the horseshoe shape our chairs formed, and from my vantage point I could see a single silhouette striding towards it, cloaked in shadows that were dispelled the moment he stepped into the light.

“Oh. My. Lord,” Aspen breathed, fanning himself with his hand.

“You can say that again,” I muttered, drinking in the sight of the man.

Even the bored, nonchalant expression on his face didn’t dull his attractiveness.

Talk about a thirst trap from the top of those golden waves to the sheen on his boots.

His legs were encased in leather pants, while his glistening, glitter-streaked abs were framed by the chain-covered leather jacket he wore, completing the bad boy look.

It was only when I caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye that I realized he wasn’t alone.

The second dancer was a bit shorter, dressed in boy shorts and a cropped black tank top covered in rhinestones reading Dangerous Doll. Where the other wore his hair to his shoulders, this one’s was shorter and worn in tousled waves that made it look like he’d just crawled out of bed.

Each of his steps matched the beat as he sauntered around the bad boy, who stood posed with his hip cocked and his eyes locked on the form dancing around him. When the smaller one moved behind him and pressed a hand to his abs, he left behind a shimmering handprint on the bad boy’s golden skin.

And earned himself a sinful smirk in the process.

Holy shit, the chemistry between the two became apparent the moment they started moving together.

One cool, cocky, and deliberately smug; the other sassy and enticing as hell.

They rocked the hell out of that song as they moved together, clothes coming off, including those boy shorts that revealed a G-string that barely kept his package contained.

Even the front of that was bedazzled with an arrow that pointed down and down was right where the golden-haired one went.

To his knees before crawling towards his partner.

Aspen wasn’t the only one fanning himself by the time their dance was finished.

He wasn’t the only one having issues with his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, either.

Mine felt like it was coated in paste as I watched their performance come to an end as the spotlight went low.

My brain had kicked into overdrive trying to picture them in the current line I’d been working on, and I knew that Coby, who did all of my photography, would absolutely chomp at the bit to set up a shoot with them.

I came half out of my seat, intent on tracking them down, when a soft rain of gold confetti began to fall over us like a gentle rain. The shimmering material sparkled when not one, but three spotlights appeared, with four dancers standing in them, including the duo who’d just performed for us.

The neon gold handprints the sassy dancer had left all over the bad boy still shimmered, while Aspen pumped his fist in the air to the beat of Sex on Fire by Kings of Leon, which began to play as the quartet stalked towards us.

Holy shit!

Aspen hadn’t been kidding about lap dances after all, and guess what duo was lined up directly in front of me.

The bad boy and his sassy angel.

Talk about the best gift I’ve ever received on someone else’s birthday.

My eyes were glued to the sassy angel’s hips, but it was my eyes his were drawn to.

He kicked one foot up on my chair, stared down at me, and licked his lips, all while keeping the beat with his rolling, rippling torso and a toss of his head.

I crooked my finger at him, so he’d know that his presence in my lap was welcome and invited, his answering smirk and eyebrow raise accompanied by another slow lick over shimmering, glossy, glittery lips.

Oh, he knew how to seduce, which meant that he knew how to seduce a camera.

This had the potential to be a match made in heaven if he and his bad boy were willing to do some modeling for me.

Seconds later, when he straddled my lap in that G-string, thoughts of my new line and the prospect of seeing them in it flew out of my head, especially when that bad boy lightly danced his fingers up my arm as he circled me.

With sassy angel’s arms braced on the arms of the chair as he rolled his hips and winked and bad boy coming back around the chair to straddle my lap behind him, I was pinned in and loving every second of the way they moved.

Maybe a little too much.

The sudden throbbing of my nipples alerted me to what was about to happen, and with sassy angel pressed against my chest, there was no way he wasn’t going to feel it, either.

My initial twinge of self-consciousness was immediately silenced when he didn’t pull away.

Instead, he licked his lips again, leaned in, and whispered, Can we help you with that?

Never had I ever been happier that Aspen had chosen to have his party at the Lactin brotherhood-run club, where what he was proposing wouldn’t turn heads or get us kicked out for being lewd and inappropriate.

“Please,” I croaked, wanting to lean in and lick his throat when he threw his head back to speak to the man gyrating behind him.