Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SPENCER
It’s been a week since I’ve hooked up with Tate, and each day at work has dragged by painfully. My dad hasn’t let up about a stupid fucking spreadsheet that I’ve already triple-checked, and it honestly has me questioning my whole future and what I actually want. Because I’m not so sure this is it.
Friday’s finally here, so I put my identity crisis on the back burner and focus on tonight.
Jake and I are on our way to Stick Shift for the leather and lace party.
We’re both shirtless and wearing matching patent leather shorts.
The Uber driver keeps glancing at us in the rearview mirror, and I’m feeling a little uncomfortable.
“I can’t tell if he’s admiring us, or if he wants to murder us,” Jake whispers way too loudly, his bare skin squeaking against the leather seats.
“Shut up,” I hiss under my breath, glancing up to make sure our driver’s eyes are on the road and not staring back at me with murderous intent.
After a short and tense ride, we finally arrive, hopping out and skipping the line.
Tate put us on the VIP list, so we don’t have to wait.
As we step into the most popular gay bar in town, it feels like we’ve entered a private BDSM club instead.
The ambience is dark and sexy, with red velvet drapery, black lace tablecloths, and flickering candlelight.
Not to mention a few sex contraptions placed artfully around the room.
The night has just begun, so the music is low.
Some sort of hypnotizing mix of jazz and R&B.
“Sick,” Jake says in awe, and I completely agree.
“Yeah,” I mumble distractedly because my eyes zero in on someone across the room. Icy blond curls, flawlessly tan skin, and that damn leather harness I’ve seen him wear before.
Fuck. He’s hot.
I glance around, noticing a few other guys checking him out, and a rogue wave of jealousy crashes into me, almost knocking me off my feet.
I know we’re in a gay bar, and Tate is extremely attractive, but that doesn’t mean I like other dudes ogling him so openly.
Storming over there like a man on a mission, I wrap my arm around Tate’s lower back and pull him to my bare chest. He makes a cute little oomf as we collide, his metal harness digging into my skin deliciously.
Tate stares up at me with big blue eyes that send a zap of arousal straight to my dick.
“You look fucking sexy, and this party is incredible. I’m proud of you,” I admit, wanting him to know how impressed I am.
“Aww. Thanks, babe. You know I aim to please.” Tate steps back with a wink, glancing down at my tiny leather shorts and the bulge I can’t hide.
“Just you wait. I have a surprise for us,” he coos, giving me a teasing smirk.
“I’m gonna find Sharon and clock out for the night.
I’ll let Daija know y’all are here.” He gives me another once-over before disappearing into the employee entrance.
“Let’s get drinks,” I say to Jake before making my way to the bar. “Tate said he’ll tell Daija we’re here.”
“Sweet, man. I can’t wait to see what she’s wearing,” Jake says, following me over. “I’m getting three shots of whiskey. I forgot to pre-game.” He waves to get the bartender’s attention.
“What?” I frown.
“Three shots of whiskey,” he repeats slowly.
“Please don’t do that,” I deadpan.
Why does Jake have to be such an idiot? It’s like I’m babysitting him half the time.
“Dude. Chill out. You sound like my dad.”
“Maybe it’s because you sound like a child,” I scold. “Grow up and don’t get shit-faced tonight. Daija doesn’t like sloppy dudes. She’s classy, and as I’ve said before, way out of your league. You need to act right, or you’ll lose her before you even get a chance with her.”
“Fiiine. I’ll get two.”
I sigh, accepting the compromise and ordering two shots of whiskey and a local craft beer for myself. The bartender side-eyes Jake as she hands him the shots, as if to say, you better slow down, or I’ll cut you off. I tip her nicely and watch in disappointment as Jake pounds the shots back-to-back.
Oh well, I can only help him so much. I sip my beer, humming as the light citrusy flavor bursts across my tongue.
As soon as I set my beer down, someone hops on my back, and I instinctively grab hold of the silky-smooth legs that wrap around me. Soft curls tickle the side of my face, and the sweet scents of vanilla and coconut invade my senses.
Tate.
“I’m off work, bitches!” the excited twink glued to my back shouts.
“Me too!” Daija sing-songs, strutting over like a supermodel.
“Goddamn,” Jake stammers, sucking in a sharp breath. I glance over, watching him press his fist to his mouth like he can’t even handle what he sees. And the truth is, he probably can’t.
“Hey, princess,” I murmur, feeling every inch of Tate’s tight little body pressed against my back.
“Hey, big boy,” he whispers into my ear, before I help lower him down.
Jake and Daija join us at the bar, and I flash Jake a stern look. He better not get shit-faced.
“You guys really did an incredible job with this place,” I tell Tate and Daija, wanting him to truly know how impressed I am.
“Yeah. Y’all killed it,” Jake agrees.
Tate and Daija beam from ear to ear, squeezed in between us, with Tate pressed against my side. It’s absolutely packed in here, and as much as I dislike crowds, I’m glad it’s a full house, for Tate’s sake.
He’s standing next to me, forearms resting on the bar, while he leans over and pokes out his ass. As much as I try to be a gentleman, my eyes go straight there. He glances over his shoulder with a sly smirk.
He has to know what he’s doing.
Little tease.
The bartender comes over, this time with fondness instead of annoyance in her eyes. “Hey, Charlene. One lemon drop, please,” he says politely, winking at her.
“You got it, sweetie.” She smiles at him adoringly. “And for you?” she asks Daija.
“Same for me. Thanks, hun.” Daija looks at Jake next, followed by Charlene, with her brow raised.
“One of those, please,” Jake says, pointing to my half-full beer. “I got this round.” He hands Charlene his card, paying for the three drinks.
“Be right back,” Charlene tells us.
“Thanks, Char!” Tate gives her a cute little air kiss, and my lip quirks at how fucking endearing he is without even realizing it. “And thanks, Jake.”
“Yeah, thanks, Jakey,” Daija adds with a quick kiss on the cheek. A perfect dark red lip print is left behind, and Daija laughs. “Whoops.” She grabs a napkin from the bar and starts to scrub at Jake’s cheek. “It’s not really working.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” Jake reassures her quickly, trying to play it cool.
“Yeah. He probably wants to get it tattooed on his face!” Tate teases, and I chuckle, slinging my arm around his shoulders and pulling him into my side. His warm, soft skin caresses mine, and I take a deep breath to tamp down the lust.
Daija steps back and looks at Jake again, tilting her head to the side. “It’s actually kinda hot and artistic. Can I add a few more?”
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. I’m always up for a good time, but not here, babe,” Tate jokes.
“Oh my God! Tater tot, shut it!”
Tate snickers, his small body vibrating against mine
Daija reapplies her lipstick and places another kiss on Jake’s pec before standing back to admire her handiwork. “Your turn, babe,” she says, holding the tube of lipstick and small mirror out to Tate.
He takes it before looking up at me with a devilish smirk.
“Ready, big boy?” he whispers, and I nod as the bar disappears, and only Tate stands before me with dark red lipstick on.
His blond hair and tan skin are a perfect complement, and holy shit, he looks amazing.
The thought of him sucking my cock with red lips has blood rushing to my groin.
Tate hovers between my thighs while I half-sit, half-stand on the barstool.
He places the first kiss on my cheek and the second on my pec, just as Daija did.
But he doesn’t stop there. Tate continues lower, adding a third kiss to the bottom of my ribcage, sending shivers down my spine, and a fourth one even lower on my abs.
The world around us finally comes back into focus when Jake wolf-whistles obnoxiously, and Charlene walks over with the drinks.
“I’m just going to set these down, walk away, and pretend I never saw any of that,” Charlene says, setting down the drinks and a pack of wet wipes before backing away slowly and making all of us burst out laughing.
“Sorry, girl!” Tate hollers after her with a chuckle, grabbing one of the wipes and rubbing his lips until all of the color comes off.
Daija offers the pack of wipes to Jake and then Spencer. “You guys don’t have to keep that on you. It was just a joke.”
“Nah. I’m good,” Jake proclaims.
“Me too,” I agree. “It goes with the theme of the night quite well. Don’t you think?”
Tate stares up at me with hungry eyes and red, puffy lips from all of the rubbing. I fight the urge to kiss him in front of our friends and claim him publicly, spinning around on my barstool instead. Everyone follows suit, and we quietly people-watch, sipping our drinks and enjoying the atmosphere.
After a few minutes, Tate pulls his phone out of his tiny back pocket, holding it up for a photo. “Smile! This is going on Insta!”
I press my face to his, giving a small half-smile, and after a few shots, Jake and Daija join us on either side.
Once we get the perfect photo and Tate posts it, we finish our drinks, leaving them on the bar and heading for the dance floor. The DJ is getting the crowd hyped, so we join right in, moving with everyone else. I’m not much of a dancer, but I find myself doing anything for Tate.
We all dance together for a few songs before we make our way to the edge of the dance floor for a break. A redhead comes running over in a blur and hugs Tate and Daija, as they all start to jump and squeal.
“Oh my God, Kaylee!” Daija shouts. “What are you doing here, babe? You look amazing, by the way.”