Chapter Thirteen #2
I’m so close to him I can feel it, weighing on my carefully crafted patience. I want to make moves, get into those private areas and fucking find him. But I don’t have ten thousand dollars to spend on opening a damn door.
I sit with my knee bouncing for thirty minutes, people trickling in the later it gets. Killing two more Elixirs warms me inside, but it doesn’t calm the edginess in my limbs. If anything, I’m fevered and in need of action.
It’s his proximity that’s doing it, I’m sure. This is the closest I’ve been and I’m buzzing with need.
The need for revenge, that is. Nothing more.
Yo quiero mi venganza.
Ordering a fourth drink probably isn’t smart, but I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I need to move this along…
“Here you go, gorgeous,” the bartender croons as he delivers my drink.
I blink at him, then grin. “Gracias—” I clear my throat. “Thank you.”
“De nada.” He smiles, head slanting. “I never saw you in here before this week, but one more night and you’ll be a regular.”
Oh boy…
“I’m just visiting,” I hum, leaning in on the bar. “Have you… worked here long?” I ask, hoping to distract him and pull focus from me.
“About a year,” he tells me, eyes shifting to one of the servers who has approached the bar with a tray.
The bartender arranges shot glasses on it, pulling out a bottle.
“You like it?” My eyes are stuck on what he’s doing; pouring liquor into the shot glasses.
“Yea. Money’s good,” he answers casually. “Better than any of the other clubs in the area.”
He spins away from me, bending to rustle something out of a mini fridge. My eyes linger, unintentionally, on the way he fills out those tiny leather shorts, while I suck on the draw of my drink.
When he turns back, I fling my covetous gaze away fast. But I think he caught me, because he’s smirking as he goes about finishing the shots for his coworker. As soon as the other guy leaves, bartender boy comes back to me.
“Plus, I like meeting new people.” His eyes fall to my mouth, and the way I’m chewing my straw a little too hard.
“I’m guessing your boss is good to you, then?” I press on, now that I guess I have his attention. “The manager… the owner…”
“Dom is fine.” His glanced up, and I follow his line of sight. “He’s kind of a hard-ass, but that’s to be expected.”
The man he’s looking at is standing across the room, speaking to one of the dancers in between glancing at his phone screen.
I’ve seen him before, and figured he was the manager, being that he’s always sauntering around in an expensive suit, checking on things.
Coming in and out of those doors I’m not allowed through…
“The owner, I’ve never met,” the guy goes on, luring me back to him. “No one but Dom has. We don’t even know his name, it’s very mysterious.”
Hm, I’ll bet.
My head cocks. “So you don’t know if he’s ever been here…?”
He shakes his head, leaning in even farther to whisper by my face. “He could be here right now and we’d have no idea.”
Zeal zips up my spine like an icy finger. I almost flinch, biting my lip at this notion.
But the bartender—whose name I still don’t know, not that it matters—clearly thinks this reaction is for him. He’s all bent over, thickly muscled and popping his barely-covered ass out.
“You’re hot,” he hums, just loud enough that I can hear him.
I feel my face flushing. “Thank you…” I mumble, and he chuckles. “So are… you…”
Acting. I’m supposed to be acting… better.
Smoother, or more confident or something. But right now, I just feel… confused. Keyed up.
I know I find this guy attractive. That wasn’t an act. He’s super hot, and that’s fine, because I know I’m gay… So why is flirting with this dude making me feel all itchy everywhere?
It’s because you’re supposed to be working, idiota. Not flirting with random sexy bartenders.
Remember why you’re here… El objetivo.
“I take my break in a few minutes…” the bartender purrs. “Maybe we can go somewhere and… talk.”
My lashes flutter, but I attempt to rein it in. Not be overwhelmed by this, but see it for what it is… A golden opportunity.
Gaze flicking briefly in the direction of the manager, who just stalked back through the elusive door, I stow my rampant nervous excitement and peek at the bartender.
“Sounds like a plan.”
Twenty minutes later, Jonah—that’s the bartender’s name, by the way—informs me that he’s going on break.
Before I can even attempt to play it coy, he rounds the bar and takes me by the hand, dragging me along like a bemused puppy on a leash. And to my surprise and immense thrill, he brings me to the door—that door, to the private area of the club.
It has no lock or anything. He just whips it open and pulls me through, which seems weird until we’re on the other side and I realize this hallway just leads to more doors. And another big security-looking guy, sitting on a stool, keeping watch.
Jonah fishes a key card out of his tiny shorts while I try not to look at the surveillance cameras I know are watching me.
“Hi, G,” Jonah says to the bouncer, who’s looking me up and down.
He says nothing, simply raises a brow as Jonah taps his key card on a black rectangle on the wall. The light flashes green, and the door unlocks. Jonah smirks, yanking me through while I keep my head down.
“Are you sure we’re allowed back here?” I have to ask because it’s immediately clear this is the private area of the club, and you wouldn’t think bartenders are allowed to bring whoever they want inside such an elusive place. “I don’t want you getting in trouble…”
“How sweet,” Jonah croons, pulling me up another long hallway. “It’s fine, G loves me.”
My brow arches. That guy out there? The silent muscle?
“Plus, after one, Dom is usually preoccupied.”
I’m intrigued by this, though not surprised. I don’t know what manager of a sex club wouldn’t get up to his own stuff… It’s not exactly shocking.
So long as I stay camouflaged and way off his radar, I’m good. The last thing I need is the only person in this building who knows The Ivory noticing me.
Being as subtle as I can, I take in every inch of my surroundings, committing it all to memory. Until Jonah pushes open a door and shoves me into a dark room.
I’m not sure what kind of room it is, and I don’t have time to figure it out. In a flash, he has me pressed up against a wall.
“We can fuck if you want,” he rasps in between kissing me. Hungrily. I mean, his tongue is all up in my mouth, and he’s biting me and rubbing his crotch against mine so hard, I swear I can feel every ridge of his dick through both of our pants. “But I only have twenty minutes.”
My head is spinning, but I have to play this just right. Who knows if I’ll get another chance to come back here. I want to explore…
Which means I need to keep Jonah happy, but also get rid of him.
So, I do what I think will accomplish both of those things.
I drop to my knees.
This is actually only my second time doing this.
The first time was with that kid I hooked up with back home.
He wanted to do it to me, but I wasn’t really feeling that, so I opted to do it to him instead.
To placate him, but mostly, keep him from doing it to me, since I’m pretty sure every guy wants it to be done to them, and I didn’t want to seem weird.
Opening Jonah’s pants, I’m trying to channel the confidence of someone else. Take on the role of someone who knows what the hell they’re doing, while he hums, “Mmm… I’ll take that.” His thumb brushes over my lower lip. I peek up at him with his erection right in front of my face. “Hungry, baby?”
I swallow a mouthful of nerves, wasting no time parting my lips. His dick is bigger than the last one, but not massive, so I guess that’s good. I won’t pretend to know what I’m doing, but I think the last guy liked it—unless he was lying, but I don’t think he was—so I just repeat the same actions.
Lick. Kiss. Suck. Running my tongue up and down the smooth skin, kissing the crown, and sucking on it gingerly.
“Fffuck yea…” Jonah shudders, grabbing a fistful of my hair.
That gets a twitch from inside my own pants, followed by a rush of heat up my neck, into my face. Good thing it’s dark in here.
I start out doing what I think would feel good, more like teasing it. But then his grip on my hair gets tighter, and I’m sure that means he wants more sucking. So I switch it up and move onto what I’ve seen in porn, hoovering him between my lips.
“Uhh, that’s it… sweet fucking mouth,” he groans, keeping it quiet, I imagine because we’re not supposed to be in here.
And that thought, more than anything else about this encounter, gives me a throb between the legs. It’s subtle… But the more I think about it, the more that flame rises from a tiny flicker, like someone is gradually turning up the heat on a gas burner.
This is so bad…
I shouldn’t be in here, shouldn’t be kneeling in front of this strange man, letting him fuck my throat. Not with all those people out there… Not when anyone could walk in at any moment.
And then I allow my mind to drift further… and I imagine him.
El diablo…. walking in on this little scene.
He’d be so angry…
That I’ve found him, after all this time. No longer a scared little boy, but the man he should’ve killed when he had the chance.
Head bobbing in front of Jonah’s waist, I get lost in sucking. In a trance, my jaw has gone numb, saliva pooling and spilling over, but I don’t care.
I’m up to full fever imagining his reaction…
Would he be confused? Maybe he didn’t expect me to be gay, and maybe that would make him angry too… But only because he likes the way it looks, and that humiliates him.
Jonah’s heavy panting and salacious whispers fade into the darkness of the room, his voice deepening. His tone changing…
“You like this dick, don’t you, baby? You like how it slips and slides down your tight throat…”
“You are so bad, pajarito… estás malo. On your knees like a dirty little thing…”