Chapter 2
LOCKE
This kid was a distraction. Something about him got on my nerves. Maybe it was his cocky assumption that he could “turn” me, as if that was something a person could do.
He couldn’t. I loved women. Had been enjoying sex with women since I was fifteen and one of the assistants at my grandfather’s office had offered to blow me in a back room at the company Christmas party.
I considered myself to have a higher-than-normal sex drive but was only ever driven toward women. Period.
The dancer was attractive, I’d give him that.
Muscular and fit. Eyes such an impossible blue I wondered if they were colored contacts.
His lips reminded me of a phrase my sister had tortured me with one long-ago summer on Martha’s Vineyard, when she’d first discovered romance novels and wouldn’t stop talking about the hero’s “bow-shaped lips.”
I’d confidently told her that no one in real life used that phrase. But this man’s lips were decidedly bow-shaped.
I almost wanted to take a picture and send it to Celeste.
It was no secret that Ronald Gillen was into men, even though he was supposedly closeted. At this point, I was pretty sure even his wife knew he fucked men on the side. That was none of my business. My only reason for being here was to get him to stop harassing one of the women in my office.
Because Ronald was also into women. And Shayla had been the target of his sexual pursuits for a few months now, since she’d been hired to work in the Maris office he had the most dealings with as a longshoreman boss.
Nobody working for me should have to deal with nasty, unprofessional innuendos and pressure to accept a date. My father might not have cared enough to protect our employees back when he was in my position, but I sure as fuck did.
I was here to give Gillen a friendly reminder to treat my people with respect. But this was a one-shot deal. If he wasn’t smart enough to take the hint, I’d ruin his fucking life.
His insistence on giving me this lap dance—a thinly veiled attempt to distract and gain some sort of leverage over me—wasn’t helping his case. If anything, it was only making me more annoyed.
I ran my eyes over the dancer’s fit physique. Cut abs and Adonis belt. Slightly rounded pecs and shoulders. Tanned skin and…
My eyes caught on his brown nipples as he teased them with his fingertips. They crinkled and tightened at his touch. For some reason, that got my attention. Did they remind me of a woman I’d been with? Possibly. Not that I could think of which woman that might be.
I imagined what they would feel like against my tongue. Whether I could make them tighter and harder by sucking on them.
My dick began to stir, and I quickly shifted in my seat. What the fuck? Allowing myself to compare him to sexy women I’d been with was a surefire way to lose this damned bet. And that wasn’t happening.
“What made you want to become a dancer?” I asked as disinterestedly as I could. Conversation about work was a guaranteed boner killer for everyone.
He peeled his shorts open further, exposing a surprisingly dull cotton jock.
That certainly wasn’t going to turn me on.
I’d seen a million of them over the years in various locker rooms and had never gotten hard for one.
They reminded me of the grassy, sweaty smell of soccer practice from years ago.
He pushed the shorts down and shimmied out of them, turning to show me his bare ass, which I had to admit was impressive. Squats on the pole clearly worked for him.
“I like to move my body,” he said, backing up until his ass was swaying over my lap. “I like to touch myself.” He turned back to face me and climbed over me again, his knees on either side of my thighs.
Then he lowered his voice to a sultry whisper and leaned in to brush his lips against my ear. “I like to fuck.”
My eyes drifted closed. There was something about that word spoken in his voice that made my skin prickle. Maybe it was the music or the room. Maybe it was simply the idea of sex and all the skin on display.
“Fuck or be fucked?” I challenged. But it came out sounding rougher than usual.
He leaned further into me until his hands were down by his knees and his nose was brushing the skin of my neck.
“Depends which one you’re into, baby. Do you want to hold me down and fuck my tight hole?
Is that what you’re thinking about right now?
How you’d force me to take it? Put me on my hands and knees for you?
Maybe wrap one of your big hands around the back of my neck and teach me a little lesson? ”
His voice was breathy, which made my heart pound harder and my own breaths more shallow.
“You seem to be begging for a lesson of some kind,” I said coolly.
The fact that he seemed to be getting under my skin annoyed me. But I couldn’t deny he was alluring in a certain kind of way. I could see why someone like Ronald would be into him. Into this.
The image of Ronald touching this beautiful man with his perpetually sweaty hands annoyed the fuck out of me.
The dancer continued, moving his body in a way that was hard to ignore. Sultry and languid as the music shifted to something slower. He straightened up so I was staring at those nipples again. They were close enough to lean over and taste, which of course I would never do.
I caught a whiff of his deodorant as he lifted his arms above my head on the wall and looked down at me. My eyes strayed to his armpit and the brown hair there.
He smelled good. I was half-inclined to ask him what products he used.
A tiny dark mole peeked out from the edge of the armpit hair, matching a somewhat lighter one above his lip. My stomach clenched.
No wonder he’d been hired here. He was undeniably, objectively sexy. Hiring him was a solid business decision for this place. How much did dancers get paid, anyway? Was profit sharing involved? There really should be, because the ROI of—
I felt another tightening in my gut as the dancer’s eyelids fluttered closed and he mouthed a snippet of the lyrics.
“I’m so used to being used…”
Did those lyrics mean something to him, personally? Was he in a bad situation? Of course, I’d heard horror stories of people being taken advantage of in jobs like this. Usually those were women, but maybe the same held true for men in powerless situations.
Not that it mattered to me, obviously. None of us got to choose the situations we were born into, and we all had to make the best of the hands we were dealt. Besides, the man had admitted to enjoying being watched. Enjoying fucking, even.
I glanced down his body to the cotton jock, imagining what it would look like if the sex act he was miming right now was actually happening.
Just as a point of intellectual curiosity.
Simply because the biology of gay sex was something I’d never had reason to consider before.
And because thinking about it passed the time—god, how could the music still be going?
Not for any other reason.
Something about that cotton jock kept drawing my attention, though. The bulge in the front was impressive. Surprisingly so. But then again, the man had been hired to show it off.
“You like what you see, baby?” he teased, a hint of laughter in his voice.
Every time he called me baby, it set my teeth on edge.
“Not much to see at all,” I said, trying to sound bored.
In reality, I wasn’t bored. I was entertained against my will.
There was no denying the man had rhythm. He moved his body like liquid lava, thick and warm, curving over every surface it crawled across and leaving bright, charred destruction in its path.
His fingers moved across my neck until I realized he was gently clasping the front of my throat. I met his eyes with a glare.
“Inferiority complexes are so unattractive,” he purred with a knowing grin.
I huffed out a laugh, which made his fingers press harder against my throat for the barest moment. “I do okay.”
“I’m sure you do.” He ground down on my lap, pressing his ass into my groin before rolling his hips forward. His cock pressed into my lower stomach, surprising me with its firmness.
“You getting hard for me… baby?” I teased back. “Now who owes who a grand?”
I realized my hands were squeezing my own thighs tightly enough to wrinkle my suit pants. I smoothed out the fabric and moved my hands to the back of my head to keep from touching him by accident.
Heat from his body swirled around us, scented with a hint of masculine sweat that didn’t turn me off the way it should. My eyes returned to the jock, curious to see whether I was actually making him hard or if he was just naturally… gifted.
The top edge of the jock’s elastic strap had moved low enough for me to see a line of soft brown pubic hair above it. A thin trail of it roamed up to his belly button. I realized he wasn’t waxed or shaved like a woman would be at a club like this.
Why not? Did gay men prefer their dancers to have body hair?
I trailed my eyes up to his chest, trying to consider whether I would prefer hair on a man if I were gay.
He moved the hand from my throat down my chest and to his jock, where he squeezed himself and let out a little moan. My heart rate shot up as I stared at what he was doing.
“Yes,” he said in a breathy voice.
I glanced up at his eyes, only to find them closed and his head tilted back. His cheeks were flushed pink, and his lips were moist like he’d just licked them. His chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths. The music poured around us with its low beat and dirty lyrics.
“Yes, what?” I asked before reminding myself I didn’t care. My voice sounded like broken glass scattered across gravel.
“Yes, you make me hard. Yes, you make me want to touch myself. Get off to the image of your fat cock shoved deep in my hole. Of you holding me down and fucking me. Of you telling me to shut up and come before someone finds us together. Of you clapping a hand over my mouth and whispering filthy words in my ear as you take me from behind.”
My chest heaved as the oxygen in the room thinned. He moved his hand again, and I realized he’d snuck his fingers inside his jock to touch himself. He was still perched in my lap, his ass brushing against my cock with every move he made to the sultry music.
“Keep going,” I said gruffly.
Clearly, he was enjoying himself, right? So why not let him fantasize since we were stuck in here together anyway.
He leaned forward and rested his forehead on one of my shoulders, bracing a hand on the sofa by my hip. With his other hand, he continued to tease and stroke himself under the jock. We both stared at what he was doing, and I caught glimpses of his cock where the jock was pulled away from him.
Then he started making… noises.
Tiny little breathy whimpers.
A sucked-in breath.
A muffled gasp.
The head of his cock poked out of the top of the jock, and for some reason, he nearly stumbled off my lap. I quickly reached out and grabbed him around the waist to keep him from falling.
“Oh god,” he breathed, reaching for his cock again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I couldn’t believe this guy was jacking off right here during a VIP dance. On top of me. In my lap. It made my stomach flip.
Turn. I meant, it made my stomach turn.
“You always perform sex acts when you bring people in here?” I demanded.
He didn’t pick his head up from my shoulder and glare at me like I would have expected. Instead, he tilted his head a little and spoke with his soft lips against my neck. The sensation made my skin itch.
“Never. Fuck. Get mad at me again.” He added the last part with a breathy chuckle. “It’s doing it for me.”
“You’re crossing so many lines right now,” I warned.
“Don’t you want to make me come, Daddy?”
There was still a hint of amusement in his voice, and it made me want to laugh. “Don’t call me that,” I said with my sternest voice. “I’m not your fucking daddy.”
“Will you be angry if I come? Punish me? Put me over your lap and take it out on my ass?”
My hands tightened, and that’s when I realized I was still holding his waist. In fact, one of my hands was somehow fisted in the strap of his jock.
I quickly let go and moved my hands back to my thighs, but they landed on his bare legs instead.
His eyes widened as I looked at him quickly in apology and pulled my hands back like they’d been burned.
The sound of his laughter filled the small room. “The skin cops aren’t coming, big guy,” he assured me. “I promise.”
Then he eyed me carefully. “And you can’t catch gay from me either, FYI.”
“That’s not what… I didn’t…” I cleared my throat. “There are rules.”
“I liked your hands on me,” he confessed. And for some reason, he sounded more real in that moment than he had this whole time. “Even if you didn’t.”
The seduction scene seemed to be over. I glanced down at the cotton jock and noticed it was no longer as full as before. His cock had deflated, understandably.
When I’d recoiled from him, I’d come off as disgusted by him. In reality, I’d been disgusted by myself. I never wanted to take advantage of anyone, especially someone doing their job.
Hell, that was why I was here in the first place.
“I should probably go,” I said, shifting a little to remind him he was still on my lap. “Thank you for the… ah… dance… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Jett,” he said, before his eyes widened in surprise. “Thro. Jethro. My name is Jethro. Jethro Davis.”
He moved off me and shimmied his hips a little while adjusting himself.
“Fucking blue balls,” he muttered before turning to look for his shorts.
As he bent over to pick them up, his ass cheeks opened, revealing a clean, pink hole.
In that flash of a moment, it squeezed tight, the skin wrinkling and releasing in a way that went straight to my dick.
I stared at it, suddenly imagining myself doing everything he’d described. Grabbing his hips and driving my cock deep inside him. Telling him to be quiet and take it while he let out more of those breathy whimpers and grunts.
Blood rushed south and filled my cock so fast my head wobbled like a helium balloon losing its string.
When Jett—because there was no way his name was actually Jethro—stood back up and turned to face me, my face flooded with heat. Though where that blood came from since it was all in my dick, I had no idea.
I stared at him.
He caught my expression and tilted his head to the side. “You okay?”
I gritted my teeth and shook my head, opened my wallet, took out a thousand dollars, and dropped it on the sofa behind me.
Then I did what I should have done when goddamned Ronald Gillen first suggested this.
I got the hell out of there and took care of business.