Chapter Seven
Sawyer
I snort at my phone when a message bubble pops up before promptly stuffing it in my back pocket.
Because Blake’s right—I still have two hours left of my shift, and starting tomorrow, we’ll engage in what I can only hope will be a weekend-long fuckfest after a whole week of starvation.
But for now—work!
The club is buzzing with its typical Friday night shenanigans, and I’m sprinting from one end of the bar to the other, serving drinks and exchanging smiles for tips.
I’m in the middle of mixing up a dry martini when my phone buzzes again.
Mr. Uptight: One hour, thirty minutes!!!
I turn my back to the line of people milling around the bar and hunch over my phone so they can’t see I’m slacking off.
Me: Try not to get me fired before that.
Three dots appear on the screen as I hold my phone with one hand, using the shaker with the other.
Mr. Uptight: I’m trying, but… CAN YOU BLAME ME?
Chuckling, I put the phone away and summon the rest of my energy to make sure everyone is happy and intoxicated.
Minutes tick by at a turtle speed as I dance along the liquor shelves. By the time Jesse returns from his break, the line has almost disappeared, and I lean against the wall, rubbing my tense shoulder.
“Excited for a weekend off?” Jesse asks as he stands beside me, scanning the bar for potential customers.
My mind immediately slips into the horny mode I’ve been trying to shove away for the past few days.
Not having sex when you don’t have anyone to have it with is one thing. Not having sex when there’s an eager body waiting for you is just blue balls.
“You have no idea.” I shoot him a grin, and Jesse gives me a knowing look.
Am I that transparent?
“I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little jealous,” he quips before sauntering to a guy on the other side of the bar, swaying his hips on his way just to fuck with me.
My phone buzzes for the hundredth time tonight, and I don’t even need to check to know who it is.
Mr. Uptight: Thirty minutes!!! AND I have two pieces of news for ya!
I make sure there’s no one awaiting my services before texting back.
Me: Give me the bad one first.
I wait for the three dots to appear, but they don’t. Instead, a familiar voice comes from a few feet away, catching me off-guard and making my heart skip a beat. “Who said it’s bad?”
My eyes shoot to where Blake is standing on the other side of the bar, the light-blue button-up he’s sporting complimenting the color of his eyes.
I can’t help but grin as I approach him and lean over the bar top. “I thought we weren’t seeing each other till tomorrow.”
He runs his hand through his hair, tousling them in the process. “Are you complaining?”
My voice drops an octave. “I didn’t say that.”
Blake runs his tongue along his bottom lip, my eyes following its trail.
I look to where Jesse is handling the sole customer before I lean in and give Blake a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.
My cock twitches in my pants when I get a whiff of Blake’s cologne.
“So, what did you want to tell me?” I ask once I reluctantly free his mouth from mine.
“Well. First of all, we got an A on the project.”
I can’t help but laugh. Of course, that’s what he would lead with. “Awesome. And the second?”
Blake leans in inconspicuously, making sure no one can eavesdrop. “For the second, I will need you over on this side.”
I squint. There’s something in his tone I can’t quite decipher, but it makes my skin pepper with goosebumps all the same.
I glance at my phone to check the time. My shift ends in five.
Turning my head, I catch Jesse’s gaze and motion my head toward the door.
His gaze bounces from Blake to me and he rolls his eyes, smiling, before shooting me a wink.
“Hold that thought,” I say to Blake and sprint to the back room.
I take what has to be the fastest shower of my life in the staff bathroom and punch out at eleven PM on the dot. I’m officially free.
Anticipation rushes through my veins as I rush out of the staff area and into the main room, and seconds later, standing in front of Blake, sliding my hands into my pockets to stop myself from jumping his bones here and now.
“So, what’s the other news, Mr. Impatient?”
He gives me the same enigmatic look as before. Stepping closer to me so our bodies almost touch, he spins around and presses his back against my chest. “Actually, it’s more of a surprise than news.”
I hum into his ear. “I like the sound of that.”
Grabbing my palm, he slides my hand out of my pocket and into his. “What are you—”
I choke on air when he pushes it deeper, and my fingers are met with a tiny plastic square. Through it, I recognize the outline of a rolled-up condom instantly.
My heart all but jumps out of my chest. “Are you sure about this?” My voice comes out way shakier than I intend.
We’ve never even talked about it. I assumed he wasn’t ready. I wasn’t even sure he’d ever be ready. And I was fine with that. But right now, that’s all I can think about.
“I wouldn’t be here If I weren’t,” Blake says, pushing his hips back against my crotch as if to make a point.
I gasp in his ear, thoughts racing through my mind a million miles per minute. Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I whisper, just to be sure, “Would now be a bad time to tell you I don’t bottom?”
Blake rolls his hips around, grinding his ass against my swelling cock. “I kind of figured that.” And just as I’m about to invite him back to my place, Blake grabs my wrist, pulls my hand out of his pocket, and drags me deeper into the club.
“You can’t be serious,” I say as I follow him wherever he wants. Right now, I’d follow him to hell.
He turns his head back but continues walking. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
His cheeks are flushed red, pupils blown, visible even amidst the darkness of the club.
No. No, you don’t.
We pace through the hallways, through the rooms full of people getting it on, until Blake takes a turn and leads me to the one where it all started.
Testosterone floats in the air, and there are so many couples and throuples fucking, that it’s hard to know which way to look.
I glance at Blake’s face and chuckle through my lust. He looks at home.
“We’re not doing it here. You know that, right?”
His eyes snap off the action he was ogling and to my face. “Why not?”
Shaking my head, I step back until I’m standing behind him.
I grab his wrists, hold them behind his body with one hand, and then drop my other hand to massage his crotch. It shouldn’t surprise me he’s already hard.
He leans into me, head falling on my shoulder, and bucks his hips into my touch.
“Because I’m horny, not crazy.”
I slide my hand into his pants. He’s going commando.
“Is there a difference?” he asks, his voice raspy.
Letting go of his wrists, I push my other hand inside his pants, on the back this time, the fabric of his tight pants biting sharply into my skin. Angling my hand unnaturally, I press my middle finger between his ass cheeks and against his hole.
I let out a shaky exhale the second my finger connects with his flesh. “You’re kidding me, right?” I ask because, apparently, Blake came prepared.
Traces of lube are slicking up his flesh, and as I push the tip of my finger, it slides in almost effortlessly.
Blake lets out a tiny moan. “I don’t know. You tell me.” He pushes his hips back, his body swallowing more of my finger as he does. “I’ve been practicing, too.”
My balls ache at the words as the implication behind them sends my senses into overdrive. “With inanimate objects, I hope.”
He reaches behind and grabs the back of my neck, arching his body. “If you can call my fingers inanimate.”
“Jesus,” I mutter.
“Just Blake is fine.”
His eyes are closed, and I swipe my gaze over the crowd. There are at least twenty pairs of eyes looking, staring at Blake. I can’t blame them; with the way he moves into my touch in rhythm with the music. But no one will get to see him tonight.
No. Not before I do.
He whines audibly as I force myself to let go of his body and pull my hands from behind his waistband.
“Come,” I say.
“Make me.”
“Oh, don’t you worry. I intend to.”
Heat flashes in his eyes as I grab his arm, my grip strong and possessive, and drag him out of the room and into the one next door.
“Where are we going?”
I ignore his question, maneuvering us through the crowd until we reach a single door in a dark corner. I use my staff card to unlock it and open it for him. “After you.”
He hesitates for a second before stepping in and gasps as he enters.
I walk right behind him and lock the door.
“What is this place?”
Red lights partly illuminate the space, two on each wall, fancy curtains hanging between them, ceiling to floor.
And in the middle, there’s a giant, square leather sofa, big enough to host an orgy.
“A private room,” I say as I step in deeper and plop down on it. “For private parties.”
He looks around before walking up to me, close but out of reach. “And are we allowed to be here?”
I prop my hands behind me and lean back, my gaze dancing around his body with way too many clothes on it. “We’re a private party, aren’t we?”
Blake moves closer and puts his palms on my neck, massaging the back of my scalp. “Let’s party, then.”
He grabs my hair and pulls my head back sharply before pushing on my chest, making my back fall flat on the sofa.
His movements are rough and impatient. If he wants to be in charge, I’ll let him.
My mouth waters as he pops open the buttons of his shirt, one by one, and shrugs it off his shoulders. He puts one knee on the edge of the sofa, and with his gaze glued to my chest, he drops his hand down and massages the bulge in his pants. “What are you waiting for? Strip.”
Whether it’s the week-long wait or something truly shifted inside him since the night he first walked in here, I don’t know. But one thing is sure—the Blake from back then is now gone, and in his place, there’s a man that continues to shock the hell out of me every step of the way.