Chapter 10
TEN
SLONE
Afew weeks ago, a thumping bass line and flashing lights in a nightclub triggered me so badly my friends worried I was spiraling into a depressive episode.
Tonight, those same lights flashed, and a similar beat thumped, and I only felt exhilaration.
My guys were around me dancing with their partners and each other, and the hockey players were celebrating Nashville’s unexpected win.
Drinks flowed. And every few minutes someone screamed over the music, “We’re going to the playoffs, baby!”
All of it should be overwhelming me—strange place, strange people, flashing lights, loud music, the press of bodies.
All of that sat on the periphery because Trey Malachek had planted himself in front of me to put on a show.
He danced. The kid could fucking move, and it gave me so many ideas.
Ideas that kept my eyes locked on his sexy as fuck body as he writhed with the twins on his team, Aiden, Gavin, and Shane.
He smirked and winked, and whenever he got close, he rubbed some part of his body against some part of mine.
And I enjoyed it.
Immensely.
My throbbing dick was proof enough of how much I enjoyed it. But my erratic heartbeat and the itching palms of my hands wanted to pull his ass against my straining cock.
I stepped forward to do just that several times only to stop. If his ass got anywhere near my dick, I’d come in my fucking pants like the teenager I hadn’t been since before the boy was born.
After the third or fourth time, I pushed my back against the wall, stepping forward to pull him to me, as he wiggled his ass at me. He stopped in front of me, staring into my eyes, barely a breath of space left between us.
With only a slight jut forward of his chin and a cock of his head, Trey whispered in my ear, “You should dance with me.”
His words erased the space. Our chests met and then our gazes. And they held. And held. My lungs burned at the contact, and my eyes did the same from refusing to blink.
I shook my head to force my body back under my control. His full-bottom lip rolled out in a pout. Fucking menace. A delightful, adorable, sexy as fuck menace.
One I wanted.
Under me.
Over me.
Wrapped around me.
Maybe even in me.
“Please,” he begged, the sound more whine than anything else, and there went the space.
His dick, just as hard as mine, brushed against me. He gasped. The sound shot an arrow of fucking need to my already pulsing groin.
“Kid, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I like surprises.”
Fuck me.
He jerked back before I could respond, pulled away by Aiden, who yelled, “I’m going to the playoffs, baby!”
Even dancing with Aiden several feet away, Trey’s eyes remained locked on me, and my cock stayed rock hard.
Closing time edged in on us. Almost all of the Maulers and Nighthawks had gone, either calling it a night or bar-crawling their drunk asses down Broadway to yet another bar. Trey was the last Mauler left. As for the Nighthawks, their first line cuddled up in our booth, putting on a show.
Ewen and I planted ourselves in front of that booth the minute Sasha, Priest, and Cam pulled their boys down onto the circular bench seat.
Trey, whether he knew what we were doing or not, slotted himself into the mix next to me, his body so close I felt every breath, every twitch.
“Kid, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“You said that earlier.”
“I mean it even more now.”
He asked, motioning toward Ewen. “Are you guys together?”
“What does that matter?”
“Because if you’re together, my next question is, are you exclusive or do you invite people in? And if you’re not together, then do you play together?”
“You really don’t know what tree you’re barking up.” Holy fuck! Had he heard Ewen when we followed him across the tarmac earlier?
“I think I have an idea,” he said with a glance toward the VIP booth our party had commandeered when we first arrived.
My gaze followed his, and in one corner of the booth Aiden straddled Sasha’s lap, grinding on Sasha’s dick, looking as if he were getting ready to come in his pants.
Then there was the other corner of the C-shaped booth.
Cam and Priest sat smashed up against each other, Gavin on one side under Priest’s arm, and Bauer on the other under Cam’s.
It looked innocent enough until you noticed Gavin’s hand trying to work Priest’s pants open while Bauer did the same to Cam’s.
All the while Cam and Priest were trying to swallow each other’s tongues.
“Okay, so maybe you do have a bit of an idea,” I said.
I turned to Ewen, who stood close by, chatting up a kid around Trey’s age. Motioning him over, I pointed my chin at the couples at the table.
“We might want to redirect this shindig before they all get arrested for public indecency. While this might be a blue city, it’s a very fucking red state, and I’m sure Gavin and Aiden’s PR teams don’t want to deal with the fallout.”
As if the thought had just dawned on him, Trey’s eyes rounded. “Oh, shit. Yeah, that would be bad. Like seriously bad. Even though Gavin and Aiden are both out, this behavior wouldn’t be good in the press. The league would have a collective meltdown.”
“Ewen, EDGE is better suited for this.”
“Agreed,” he said.
“Glad you think so,” I said, then pointed my chin toward our buddies. “You deal with Cam and Priest, and I’ll talk with Sasha and Aiden.”
Ewen swore at me. “You’re a chickenshit bastard.”
Laughing, I nodded. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
Priest could be a fucking prick when you got between him and his partners.
“What’s EDGE?” Trey asked, following me as I moved to separate Aiden and Sasha.
“A club.”
“What kind of club?”
Ignoring the question, I tapped Sasha on the shoulder. He grunted when his lips parted with his boy’s. Probably because said boy refused to let him go far and sank his teeth into Sasha’s bottom lip.
I leaned over, close to Sasha’s ear. “You guys and the freaky foursome are drawing some attention. What say we move this to a friendlier and more discreet locale?”
Aiden’s eyes flew open, his gaze meeting mine as he released Sasha’s lip. “Shit.”
EDGE: Nashville sat near Printer’s Alley, a quick walk from where we’d been celebrating with the team. Aiden, Shane, and Gavin led the way with the Holt twins and Sasha in the middle, and the Marines watching their six.
I’d been pleasantly shocked throughout the night. Nashville loved the Nighthawks. The times people recognized the players, they weren’t bombarded. A few autographs and a selfie or two with the players standing nearby had been enough to send the fans scurrying back to their party to show off.
Similar to the bar, the boys were recognized a few times, but out here on the street no one approached. They pointed and called their names or yelled, “We’re going to the playoffs, baby!” but that was it.
The closer we got to EDGE, the more I worried, though.
Everyone in this group was kinky as fuck on varying levels, except Trey.
I mean, I didn’t know for sure. The dude could have a whole list of fetishes and kinks he enjoyed, but I owned a part of the only kink club in the state of Minnesota.
So, if the boy was sowing some wild oats, he wasn’t doing it in a club.
“What’s got you looking constipated all of a sudden?” Priest asked.
I shook my head as Ewen and Cam tried, and failed, to hide their laughter, the assholes.
“Nothing. And I’m not constipated.”
“You look constipated,” Ewen said, and Priest pointed at him.
I looked at Cam, hoping for some help. No such luck. The fucker still snickered, but he’d quit trying to hide it. “Fuck off. I’m not fucking constipated.”
The Holt twins and Sasha turned to look at us. Laughter snorted through Sasha’s nose as he said, “Good to know.”
My gaze traveled beyond him. Our hockey players seemed oblivious, given they were chuckling, stumbling, and laughing but still facing away from us. Surely, if they’d heard us, they’d have turned, as Sasha and the Holt twins had.
Shoving Ewen’s shoulder, I pushed him into Priest, who stumbled into Cam. “I stand by the statement I made earlier. I need better fucking friends.”
More laughter, but I slowed when the bright teal neon sign for EDGE appeared. Ewen paused to wave Priest and Cam on.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“We’re going to EDGE.”
His face twisted in confusion as if he couldn’t follow my thoughts. “Uh, yeah. So?”
My chin jutted forward in response, but then I added, “Is he even into that shit? Is he aware of what he’s walking into?”
“Sounds like an opportunity to me.”
“Huh?”
His hand wiped down his face. “Jesus, man, really?”
I shrugged. Not following.
“An opportunity for the caretaker Daddy Dom to maybe talk to the guy he’s been making goo-goo eyes at for weeks and unable to take his eyes off all fucking night.”
“Fuck. That’s gonna be awkward.”
“Oh my God. It’s like you’ve smacked yourself in the fucking head and forgotten who the fuck you are. I mean, Christ, you weren’t this fucking shy and nervous when we first met.”
“Ewe—”
Strong fingers wrapped themselves around the back of my neck.
“No. You are Abraham fucking Slone, a motherfucking badass,” he reminded me with a shake.
“I know you’ve been struggling, but you’re a fucking kickass Marine, a phenomenal friend, an excellent lover, and one of the best fucking Doms I have the pleasure of knowing. ”
I sucked in a deep breath, tears pricking the backs of my eyes. “Okay,” I said with a sigh as I exhaled. “Let’s go.”
Ewen’s arm settled over my shoulders. His hand hung down on my chest. We caught up with the others easily just as they made it to the doors.
“We’re gonna head into the dance club,” Aiden said, his hand on the door while he looked at us, his eyes darting toward Trey.
The reprieve drained the tension I carried from my bones, leaving me lightheaded.
Following Aiden’s gaze, Trey stood off to the side, facing us with his phone in his hand.
The bright, shiny, happy look he’d had most of the night and as recently as moments ago had morphed into…
whatever this was. As he scrolled, his free hand moved from where it covered his mouth to the white-knuckle grip on the back of his neck.
The loose-limbed, easy way he moved changed, too, resembling the rigid posture he’d gotten while speaking with the bartender at the game.
Looking at Aiden, the only one of our motley crew of merrymakers who knew Trey, I mouthed, “He okay?”
Aiden shrugged and opened the door.
What the fuck happened?
Whatever it was had him screwed him up but good, and the mess only grew worse when he entered the club. The boy tossed back drink after drink until the bright, shiny, happy, tipsy boy turned into a loud, obnoxious little shit less than an hour later.
And he kept fucking disappearing only to return even drunker than before. Now, he was on the dance floor, shirtless, with his button fly half open. His eyes locked on me, and he gave me a come-hither stare as he twisted and writhed to the music.
I shook my head. I didn’t come to Nashville to babysit a drunk fuckboy, not even one I had been lusting after since I first laid eyes on him.
He shrugged, and off he went, vanishing into the crowd. Determined to put a stop to this before we ended up needing an ambulance, I headed to the bar. Luckily, the guys working knew me.
“Hey, Slone! I didn’t know you were back in town!” Xavier yelled.
“Just here for the weekend. Can you pull up the security feed?”
“Sure thing, man.” Xavier spoke to the barback, who slid into Xavier’s spot while we headed to the security room behind the bar.
“What are we looking for?”
“A hot as fuck kid in over his head and too drunk to police himself.”
“Shit. Someone you know?”
I ignored the question as I spun the trackball, backing up the feed on the cameras I knew Trey would’ve been caught on.
“Fuck!” I exclaimed, as did Xavier.
Trey could be seen poaching drinks from no less than three tables, and it was a wonder the boy hadn’t been drugged if this was how he behaved. Thank fucking hell he waited until we came to EDGE to act a fucking fool.
“You mic’d up?” I asked Xavier.
“Yeah. You want him pulled?”
“Yes. Have security take him to the office. I’ll meet you there. I need to see if Priest and Cam’s loft is available.”
“No need. They always let us know when they arrive if they’re staying. Priest said he’s taking his family out to the house.”
“Good.”
Fifteen minutes later, I walked into the office to find Trey belligerent, screaming and cursing, but luckily not violent or destructive.
“You Slone?” the bouncer asked when I stepped into the room, holding the jersey Trey wore earlier.
“Yes.”
“Good. He’s all yours.” The guy turned and left, muttering under his breath about drunk assholes.
“YOU? YOU DID THIS?” he screamed, coming at me.
The boy had zero sense when drunk. My palm pressed against his chest, and I backed him against a wall.
“Yes. I absolutely fucking did. You were lucky you were in my club,” not really, but close enough, “and not poaching drinks somewhere you risked getting roofied. Now you have two options. Thrown out on the street where you risk getting picked up by NPD, or go upstairs with me and sleep it off.”
“Fuck. I’ve only been trying to go home with you all night. I’ll take door number two, Bob.”
“How the fuck do you know Bob Barker?” I asked as I led us out of the office toward the elevator.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Trey said. The alcohol must really be kicking in because the sass came out slurred so much I barely understood what he said.
Getting him upstairs turned into a battle halfway to the elevator.
He stripped himself naked. His balance disappeared.
The flirting turned to bratting, and not the good kind.
The little shit dropped to his knees before the elevator doors slid shut, garnering cheers and wolf whistles while he pawed my zipper.
“God, I wanna suck your cock.”
“I don’t think so, Trey,” I said, trying to lift him to his feet.
He slithered free of my grasp. “C’mon. I bet it’s big and thick. Is the tip thick too? God, I love it when the head of a guy’s dick is thick enough he has to force his way into… into my…”
“Trey? You okay?”
He retched. And before I could…
He puked.
On my shoes.
He puked on my shoes.
“So, no, you are not okay,” I said with a sigh as I attempted to lift him to his feet.
“Let’s go, drunk boy. On your feet,” I pulled him up again, but he slid further onto the floor.
“Fuck,” I swore, realizing the kid was out cold.
I glanced at the floor indicator.
He puked on my shoes in the elevator with two floors to go and then passed out. Shit. When the doors opened, I tossed him over my shoulder, carried him out of the elevator car, down the hall, and into the loft where I tossed his naked ass on the bed.
“Night, night, Papa Bear,” he muttered, and I shook my head.
The boy was a hot fucking mess.
And so was I.
This was why I didn’t do the white knight in shining armor bullshit.