Chapter 27
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
RHYS
The next couple weeks go by in a blur. Angel and I text back and forth every single day. We’ve even talked on the phone a few times in the evenings. But we haven’t been able to see each other face to face since he spent the night at my place.
I miss him. God, I miss him so damn much.
I filmed the two scenes I was assigned for Sebastian’s 12 Toys of Christmas project, feeling weirdly lonely after both. They were solo scenes, just me and the toys, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Angel the entire time. The roughness of his hands, the furriness of his body, the scent of fresh sawdust that I now associate with the best sex I’ve ever had. I wish he could’ve been there with me, to touch me, kiss me, hold me.
But he’ll be here today, at The Bronzed Rail, which we’ve rented out to film our second video. I’ve choreographed the pole routine to “Dragon” by Miriam Bryant. It’s a moody and haunting song, not exactly Christmassy, but whatever. It’s what I’m feeling these days, so Sebastian can deal.
I’m pacing back and forth by the club’s bar while Sebastian and Christian set up the lights and cameras around the stage. I’ve got my phone in hand, obsessively checking my messages to make sure Angel’s still on his way.
I’ve never felt this way before, so anxious to see someone, to be in the same room as them. It’s making me antsy and irritable and a bitch to be around. Just ask Hayden—he’s been hiding in his room for days to avoid me.
Where is Angel? He’s supposed to be here already. What if he doesn’t make it in time? What if he doesn’t show up? My heart aches with how much I miss him. It’s making me want to crawl out of my skin.
“Hey, Rhys, you okay?” Sebastian’s standing a few feet away, watching me with worry in his eyes.
“Yeah! I’m fine! Why do you ask?!” My voice is too high and slightly hysterical. I clear my throat and take a breath. “I’m fine.”
Sebastian gives me a disbelieving look, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he holds up his iPad. “You forgot to sign the forms for the video.”
I roll my eyes and drop my head back at Sebastian’s love for paperwork. In all my years in the industry, I’ve never had to sign more waivers and consent forms than I have with Sebastian. “I’ve already signed those forms a million times.”
“But not for this video.” He taps the screen a couple times and holds out the tablet for me. “You really should read it before you sign. ”
I pin Sebastian with an annoyed look. “Have you made any changes to them?”
“No.”
“Then I’ve already read them.” I swipe my finger randomly across the screen and hit the save button. “There. Signed.”
Sebastian sighs again. “Are you sure?—”
The door opens and I spin around at the sound. My heart is racing, trying to beat its way out of my chest, and I hold my breath as I wait to see who comes through.
The nightclub is dark, backlighting the person stepping through the door. His face is cast in shadow, but I don’t need to see his face to know it’s Angel. I can feel him in the marrow of my bones, in the very depths of my soul.
My feet move of their own accord, catapulting me across the room and into Angel’s embrace. He catches me with a small oomph and I latch onto him, arms tight around his body, face burrowed into the crook of his neck.
Neither of us speak. We just hold on, soaking in each other’s presence after too many days apart. The press of his body against mine, the rasp of his beard against my skin, the scent of him. I want these things all the time. Not every two weeks. Not even every few days. I want Angel by my side every morning when I wake up and every night when I fall asleep.
When my heart stops racing and I can finally draw in a slow, steady breath, I pull back to peek up at Angel.
“Hey,” I say, feeling a little sheepish about how I tackled him.
“Hey.” His cheeks bunch with a smile.
They’re rosy from the chilly fall weather outside, and when I pull him down for a kiss, his lips are cool and a little chapped. But they feel so good, that perfect softness molding to mine.
A throat clears next to us, but I ignore Sebastian. Can’t he see we’re busy? Apparently not, because he starts speaking, and Angel—way too polite—breaks the kiss and turns to him.
“We’re on a tight timeline today, since we only have the club for a few hours.” Sebastian waves us toward the stage where he and Christian are all set to go. “Rhys, you want to change into your costume?”
I sigh, loud and annoyed. I haven’t had nearly enough of Angel yet. I don’t want to let him go. But Sebastian gives me a look that says he wasn’t really asking.
“Be right back, teddy bear.” I lean up and plant a quick kiss on Angel’s cheek before sprinting to the dressing room backstage.
It takes me one minute flat to strip down to nothing, then another couple minutes to lube up the metal dragon and slide it onto my semi-hard cock. A quick application of shimmering body spray and one last check of my hair and makeup, and I’m good to go.
Angel’s sitting by the stage when I get back out there, on a chair next to a small table that holds a glass of apple juice that’s been frothed up to look like beer. His gaze lifts when I step through the stage door and it locks onto mine. The rest of the nightclub falls away—Sebastian and Christian, the lights and cameras, even the bar along the far wall and the sound booth in the corner.
All that exists in this space is me and Angel.
Somewhere in the background, the opening strains of “Dragon” by Miriam Bryant filter through my awareness, and I tug on the belt holding my dressing gown in place. I let the fabric fall to the floor and step up to the pole.
Angel’s eyes roam over my body, twin lasers that heat me up. My nipples stand at attention, goose bumps prickle my skin. My cock grows painfully hard in its metal confines, and my toes curl as desire courses through me.
With the weight of his gaze on me, I dance. My body moves through the choreographed movements, but my mind is focused on the man sitting mere feet away. On the way his lips part and his breathing quickens. On the way he shifts to the edge of his seat like he’s about to bound onto the stage and grab me. I dance, using every ounce of seduction I possess to accentuate each position, to make him want me as much as I want him. And fuck, do I want him.
The song ends with me on my knees, body folded backward so my shoulders are on the floor and my dragon cock is standing straight up in the air. Slowly, I straighten, rising up onto my knees. Angel’s half out of his seat and he’s gripping the edge of the table like that’s the only thing keeping him from rushing the stage.
“Cut! Okay, let’s move things around for the next bit,” Sebastian calls out, but I’m not paying attention. My entire focus is on Angel, on how he’s practically vibrating with need.
Without thinking, I move toward him, crawling on my hands and knees across the stage. His chest expands with a quick inhale, then stills, like he’s holding his breath. His eyes are wide and unblinking, as if he doesn’t want to miss a single second.
“Goddamn it, Rhys, you need to wait for me to call action! ”
At the edge of the stage, I spin around and slip down onto the floor. The soles of my platform heels hit the hard surface with a quiet thud , and I push away from the stage. I saunter toward Angel. He gulps. I stop a foot away from him, and his gaze travels up my body, inch by inch, stomach, chest, neck, chin, nose, eyes.
Our gazes collide, knocking the air right out of my lungs. Fuck. The heat in those dark brown eyes, the barely contained fire, the raging want. I’ve never felt so powerful before, so strong and so invincible. I feel like I could take down a building with my hands. I feel like I could fly.
I lift one foot and set it on Angel’s chest. He immediately slides into his seat until he’s pressed against the back of his chair.
“Haven’t I seen you before?” I ask, voice way huskier than I intended.
Angel nods.
“You’re that contractor, aren’t you? You worked on my kitchen and I paid you with a blowjob.”
He nods again.
Putting more pressure on his chest with my foot, I lean forward an inch. “Back for more?”
Angel drops his gaze from my face down to my shoe. When he looks back up again, his eyes are hazy with lust. “Y-yes. P-please.”
They’re just lines that Sebastian made up for us. Words that Angel’s agreed to say for the camera. He doesn’t necessarily mean them, but they still echo through me, shaking my foundation.
Fuck.
I drag my foot down the front of Angel’s body, then nudge his thighs farther apart so I can step on the edge of his seat, pressing against the bulge in his jeans.
“Did you miss my hole? Did you miss how hot and tight it was? I bet you haven’t fucked a hole like that before, have you?”
Angel’s lips part and he blinks those thick long lashes like he’s fighting to stay conscious. I lean in, putting more pressure on his erection with the front of my boot. He shudders, hands gripping the edge of his seat as his hips buck against my boot. A quiet whine escapes his throat.
Does he… is he… from my boot?
I increase the pressure and Angel gasps as another shudder—harder this time—rushes through him, making him jerk and convulse. His head falls back. His eyes squeeze tightly shut. His hips tilt so he’s grinding on my boot.
Jesus motherfucking Christ. He’s getting turned on by my pole-dancing boots. Insanely tall platforms with spiky heels. This pair is black with dozens of straps across the top of my feet, leaving my red-tipped toes peeking through. The straps continue up my ankles and calves, stopping just below my knees. Aside from the dragon-cock sleeve, they’re the only thing I’m wearing.
And if this is how Angel reacts to them, I’ll wear them every fucking day for the rest of my life.
“Hold there for a sec,” Sebastian directs, stepping in close with his camera to capture my boot against Angel’s crotch.
I keep my gaze trained on Angel’s face, on the expression of pure, unadulterated lust. I don’t need the reminder that we’re not alone here, that this moment, this discovery, is being captured for thousands of fans to witness. I want to pretend it’s just the two of us, exploring Angel’s apparent boot fetish.
My dick swells painfully against the dragon sleeve. Why is that so hot? Sweet, innocent Angel—who’s so wholesome he doesn’t understand eggplant and peach emojis—apparently gets turned on by sexy boots. Jesus, that’s so kinky and unexpected that my balls tingle at the thought.
I wonder if he’d want to lick my boot.
Jesus. No. I can’t let my mind wander in that direction or I’m going to come prematurely and entirely hands-free. Any boot-licking will have to wait until after the cameras are off.
“Got it. Keep going,” Sebastian says, backing away to give us room to work.
I lift my foot from the chair, but instead of dropping it to the floor, I swing it over Angel’s leg so I’m straddling his thigh.
I lean in to whisper my next words into his ear. “How about a lap dance, big boy? Then I’ll give you another shot at my hole.”