Plan B (18 page)

Marilyn stood before me, the tone of her voice pure as she came to the end of the song. She then swung one long shapely leg across my lap, straddled me, and whispered, “Happy Birthday to you,” close to my ear. She placed a big wet one on my smiling face then hopped off my lap and blew kisses to the roaring crowd.

“C’mon, everyone! Come wish the birthday boy the best birthday ever.”

The crowd surged around us as the DJ blasted a new dance mix through the speakers. I was kissed, patted on the back, and hugged too many times to count, and I have to admit, it was the best birthday to date.

As the song morphed into something softer, large arms wrapped around me from behind. “Can I have this dance?”

I turned in Drake’s arms, reached up, and placed my hands on his shoulders. “I would love to.”

Drake pulled me in closer, molding our bodies together, one of his legs sliding between my thighs and pressing against my groin as we rocked to the music. I inhaled deeply—his scent was a little sweaty, a little spicy, and reminded me of the cologne Lance wore. Even as my heart began to pound, my dick filling at Drake’s nearness, I couldn’t help but wish it were Lance’s muscular body against mine and his strong arms wrapped around me.

“Having a good time?” he asked, having to shout to be heard over the crowd and the music.

“Amazing!” And I was, despite the longing that caused a slight ache in my chest.

Talking was nearly impossible so I laid my head on his chest as he slowly and rhythmically controlled the dance. So many couples shared the floor with us, still more sitting at tables or standing near the bar with their heads close in conversation.

Each circular pass, my attention kept landing on one couple in particular. The dark-haired man, who looked to be middle-aged, lines around his eyes and silver strands in his hair, had his arm wrapped around his blond companion’s shoulders. There was a familiarity between them that made me think these two men hadn’t just met, but were lovers. As the dark-haired man chatted with two other guys sitting across from him, he stroked blond guy’s chest, who was looking up at him with what I could only describe as wonderment. I had seen that same kind of look on Lance’s face when I’d woken in his arms and found him watching me sleep.

In fact, I’d seen that expression on Lance’s face many times when I’d catch him staring at me. Did he feel something more for me? While lying against each other playing solitaire on the laptop, hadn’t Lance draped his arm around me and absently stroked my flesh much as the dark-haired man was doing now? My heart began to pound faster. The little things he did. Sending me text messages in the middle of the night so I’d awaken to
Good Morning, Cranky
, which never failed to make me smile. Knowing me well enough to order a muffin to go, because he knew I hadn’t eaten and wouldn’t get a chance to.

Ah, Christ! On the dance floor, wrapped in another man’s arms, I realized I’d fallen for the big, sweet jock. I had warned myself against it, that Lance would never be more than a JOB, and I’d get my heart broken if I allowed myself to fall for him. As I stared at the couple, I realized that I wished it were Lance and me sitting there.

Heartbreak, what a stupid thing to waste a birthday wish on.

Drake’s hand slid down and back from my waist to squeeze my left ass cheek, forcing us that much closer and bringing me out of my depressing thoughts. The impressive package he was hiding in his jeans, hard against my hip, was what I should be wishing for. Carnal delights that brought pleasurable pain, not the emotional kind that could rip a heart out of a chest. I was crazy to be in a club with all these available men—hell, one grinding his hard cock against me—and thinking about an unavailable one.

Lance was probably somewhere at that very moment with his arm draped over some little bubbly blonde, laughing and drinking with his muscle-head teammates. Absently stroking a big-tittied chest, showing off to his buds what a macho manly jock he was by feeling up the captain of the cheerleading squad while I was obsessing over him again.

Oh. Hell. No!
I’d show him how a
real
man had a good time.

The song ended and a faster mix began. I went up on my tiptoes to get closer to Drake’s ear so I wouldn’t have to shout over the music, and said, “I’m going to use the restroom. Why don’t you order us a drink, and when I get back, you can tell me all about this kink I’ve heard so much about.” I then licked his ear, making him shudder.

It took me nearly thirty minutes to work my way through the thick crowd, made all the more difficult by the sheer number of people congratulating me and numerous propositions for a good time. A couple of men offered me their
package
, claiming it to be the gift that kept giving and giving. That one made me chuckle at just how lame the come-on line was. After my time with Marilyn Mon’Rod, I was the star of the night and wouldn’t be without companionship for long. All I had to do was pick and choose. Did I go with one of the many anonymous faces in the crowd and take my chances, or did I pick what was behind door number two and entertain power bottom Kegan. Still another option was deviant Dom Drake.

By the time I made it back to the table, Drake was standing there, two glasses of dark amber liquid in his hand and an oh-so-naughty smile on his face. My eyes leisurely roamed down that big body, he was all powerhouse and animal magnetism. Even his hands looked powerful, and I could imagine those blunt fingers holding on to my hips, leaving five perfectly round bruises on each one, rather than the delicate glass they were currently wrapped around. I refused to think of the dark marks Lance liked to leave on me. I sucked in my bottom lip and looked up at Drake from under my long lashes, giving him a flirty smile. My thumbs were hooked in the loops of my jeans, hands framing my interest, and when Drake’s gaze landed on my crotch, I saw him take in a sharp intake of breath and lick his lips. When he looked back up and met my eyes, the lust was clearly visible. It was my turn to shudder beneath that hungry stare.

Yeah, option number three seemed like just the thing I needed for what ailed me. Drake could no doubt help me with two little problems I had. One, I hadn’t been laid in way longer than any eager man in his twenties should have to endure. And two, I was betting he was more than capable of fucking all thoughts of Lance Lenard right out of my head.

A
S
I
lay on the bar, shirt pulled open and away from my body, a tangy flavor filled my mouth as a warm, swirling tongue licked down from breastbone to navel. I held perfectly still, fighting the urge to squirm as the tickling sensation intensified as the wet, greedy mouth moved down the trail of light hair leading to my groin. My teeth clenched tighter, the acerbic juice pooling in the back of my throat, as the heavy bulge in my jeans was nuzzled. I watched as the newest partaker threw his head back, lips sealed tightly around the shot glass he’d retrieved from between my thighs, throat working as he swallowed down the clear fluid. The crowd cheered his success, then hooted and whistled when he leaned down and took my mouth, retrieving the lime wedge from between my lips.

I licked the bitter nectar from the corner of my mouth and then yelled, “Next!”

I’d spent the last hour as the Scarlet Romeo’s very profitable marketing tool for Jose Cuervo. Looking around at the men still waiting for their turn at a Danny Marshal body shot, I could tell the club’s tequila sales were going to be off the charts. Bran walked up with a black sleep mask dangling from his fingertips. “Someone wants a special drink.”

I studied the silky material and arched a brow at Bran. “Kinky!”

He laid the mask over my eyes and I lifted my head. “This was not my idea,” he whispered as he secured the elastic in place and I was in complete darkness.

I smiled, knowing exactly who would want me blindfolded. Looked like Drake was going for seconds.

With the loss of sight, my other senses seemed to become more acute. I could hear the gurgling of liquid as it was poured, and whispered voices mingling with the loud music. I could smell the strong aroma of liquor and the citrus of limes in the air. I jumped when something wet ran down the side of my neck, felt the granules of salt, coarse against my flesh.

I vibrated with the keen sensations and my shaft swelled further when a warm breath just below my ear caused my flesh to heat to a feverish level. I was suddenly, painfully hard, my cock pressed against my stomach, trapped in its denim confines, and I squirmed, trying to relieve the ache.

A shiver of recognition trickled down my spine when the spot where Lance used to mark me was licked, sharp teeth scraping over the area, then was briefly sucked. His face flashed behind my shielded eyes, stealing my breath. Why couldn’t I let him go? The mouth moved away from my neck, kissed and licked across my chest, and I tried my damndest to push the images away, only I couldn’t. I could smell him in the air, the touch against my hip felt familiar, and his face only solidified further in my mind.

I needed a break. A break and a drink—lots of hard, powerful drinks. I was fucking losing it.

I readied myself for what was to come, muscles tensing, preparing to flee the minute the shot was taken from my thighs and the lime removed from my mouth. The person above me stopped, however, he didn’t nuzzle my groin or take the tequila. I felt the air around me cool as he backed off, taking with him his heat.

I reached up to remove the blindfold, when my wrist was grabbed in a firm grip, the lime abruptly pulled from beneath my teeth, and when I started to protest, I was silenced by a tongue thrusting deeply into my mouth. Unable to see, my hands restrained, and a foreign mouth invading mine, I became extraordinarily upset, and as the feeling reached a crescendo, I went berserk. I arched my back hard, feet kicking out as I tried to roll to dislodge my captor. His tongue slid out of my mouth before I could take a bite of the slippery invader, and then the mask was ripped away.

I blinked at the bright light, and my heart stopped beating in my chest when familiar steel-gray eyes met mine.

T
HERE
is this saying I heard once, something about being careful what you wish for, it may just come true. Yeah, that saying popped into my head as I scooted down off the bar and stood face to face with Lance. My next thought was,
I wonder if tequila can be absorbed through the skin?
I’d had a shitload of the stuff poured into and sucked out of my navel, shot glasses without a proper seal dribbled down my chest, shoulders, and arms. I was convinced it could be, and obviously once it was absorbed, it went straight to your brain and fucked with you. Because I was sure Lance would
not
be in a gay club, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have been kissing a dude in public.

I reached out and poked his chest. Yup, he was real. “Are you lost?”

“No.”

For some reason I couldn’t identify, I felt uncomfortable standing there exposed. I snapped up my shirt and tucked it in, much to the disappointment of my new adoring fans. “Aww, c’mon, I was next!” one called out; another started chanting, “Take it off.”

I shook my head at their antics, turned around, and bowed dramatically. “Sorry, this tequila boy needs a break.”

“Hurry back.”

I didn’t make any promises. I winked and turned back to face Lance. I cocked my head and studied him. His expression was smug, confident even, as evidenced by the wide, shit-eating grin, like he knew I was choosing him over them. I was about to wipe it off. “You see those women over there?” I indicated behind me with a jerk of my head.

Lance’s eyes settled on the group behind me sitting at a table, then back to mine. “Yeah, what about them?”

“Those aren’t real women,” I said. I leaned in a little closer and in a stage whisper, added, “They’re in drag.”

Lance’s brows creased. “I already figured that out, Danny. What’s your point?”

“My point is, there aren’t any real”—I made the universal gesture for quotation marks with my fingers—“women in this club. It’s a gay bar, where gay men get together to meet, drink, dance, and anything else they may take a notion to do. Naughty things. Together.”

I don’t know if he was waiting for the punch line to a joke or what, but Lance didn’t say a word, just continued to stare at me with that befuddled expression.

I sighed. “What are you doing here and how much have you had to drink?”

“Long enough to know I’m not leaving without you and not a drop. Think of me as your designated driver.”

“I don’t need one.” I needed to get frickin’ laid, dammit! As deliriously happy as I was that Lance was there, that he’d actually shown up and given the birthday boy a kiss, it didn’t change anything.

I started to walk away, but he grabbed my arm, halting my movements. I stumbled at the sudden stop and he caught me in his arms. “I think you do.”

“I didn’t plan on driving myself home.”

Lance’s face fell and he looked as if I’d punched him in the gut. After a tense moment of silence, where I wasn’t sure if he was going to bolt or throw me over his shoulder and manhandle me out of the club, his shoulders slumped and I saw, rather than heard, him sigh.