Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
He’d thought the guy was vivid before but now he was too intense. That didn’t seem to bother Connelly’s cock one little bit. This was so not good. He’d been having a difficult enough time putting Azariah out of his mind before, now it was going to be impossible.
What was going on with him? He’d never dated someone whose mere presence simply demanded attention. And he’d never felt like every nerve ending had caught on fire either.
His body remembered their kiss, the way Azariah had melted against him, the way he’d moaned—and it wanted more.
“Did you know?”
His partner’s words barely registered, but the lust in his voice did. So he finally looked away from the temptation on the stage to lift a brow at his friend.
“What?” Raoul said with a shrug. “They look like girls, man. And fuck, they’re dancing like sex on sticks. No wonder the crowd is going nuts.”
“Sure.” What else could he say? He was having a hard time wrapping his head around it all. He felt like an asshole. Partly because he was irrationally jealous of Raoul eying Azariah like he was a piece of candy. Mostly because he’d probably lost his chance with the most intriguing man he’d ever met.
Connelly made a fist under the table and let his gaze skim over Azariah once more. He could see almost every inch of that body now. The one he’d been aching for. He’d never imagined how solid and strong it might be. How graceful. Muscles on top of muscles flexed and pulled and bunched as Azariah moved across the stage and twirled and lunged. Those abs, fuck, but they glittered under the lights like gemstones. He probably didn’t have an ounce of fat anywhere.
Absurdly, Connelly tightened his own core in reaction. He wasn’t a pudge, but he wasn’t a bodybuilder either.
And then, just as he thought his torture was coming to an end, the music slowed and the dancers slid to the ground like they were made of silk. When Selena’s breathy voice began to sing “Good For You,” Azariah and the others ran their hands over one another. It was a confusing and arousing picture they made, so much smooth skin and long hair. Connelly stretched out his legs and tugged at his jeans. He didn’t even care if Raoul noticed.
Only a few seconds in, the group started snapping their fingers in time with the track. Eventually they rose, but the carnal choreography didn’t stop. The sensuality of it sank into Connelly’s bones until he felt the weight of gravity itself pulling him down. His breath grew uneven like he was subconsciously trying to match Azariah’s somehow. He barely heard the song, but the lyrics still floated through his mind as if the object of his fascination were singing them. As if they were in Connelly’s bedroom alone and all he had to do was reach out to touch the skin he was so mesmerized by. His fingers curled into the denim on his thigh because the picture was so vivid and appealing he wanted to snatch Azariah off the stage.
With a shaky arm, he tipped his beer back and chugged until the glass was empty. A couple minutes later the song ended. The lights dimmed and the DJ’s voice came over the loudspeaker.
“Bet that got you revved up. Am I right?” The crowd erupted. “If you want more, stick around. The Sassy Boyz will be out soon to treat you to private dances, and later they have another performance. Let’s hear it one more time for the Sassy Boyz!”
Another round of cheers almost drowned out the rush of Connelly’s panicked heartbeat. Almost.
“Wow,” Raoul said. “So, your guy isn’t just a waiter. He’s also a—what? Go-go boy?”
A surge of ridiculous anger flooded Connelly and he turned to his partner with a growl. “Shut the fuck up, Raoul.”
Raoul’s hands lifted into the air, palms facing him. “Hey, no judgment. I was just stating the obvious.”
Connelly scrubbed a hand over his face. “Fuck.”
“At least you found out before you made your move.” Of course Raoul would try being the voice of reason when Connelly, the Boy Scout, was clearly flipping out.
The problem was now that Connelly had seen the way Azariah moved, the way his pale skin glowed under those stage lights, the way his gray-black eyes glittered like onyx, he would never be able to think of anything else.
How was he supposed to sit there when Azariah came out and shook his ass for the horny guys in the crowd? How was he supposed to keep from punching every single one of them in the mouth? How was he supposed to ignore the need crawling up his spine?
Yeah, those were the real issues.
And no one could give him the answers he sought.
Not even himself.
Chapter Eight
He had to get out of there. If he stuck around for even another second, he’d be fucking Azariah in the alley behind the club, growling at anyone who walked by. He’d probably get arrested for public indecency and not even care, he was that manic with lust right then. Every instinct he had was telling him to go backstage, to mark what was his and not let Azariah touch anyone else.