Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Don’t be stupid this time, though.” He levels me with a hard glare. “If they’re worth it, find a way to make them see that.”
I tip my head in acknowledgement at him before making my way next door. The club music is loud and the lights are pulsating with the beat, colorful and vibrant. There’s a huge crowd of people, most of which I don’t recognize much to my relief. It’s still hard to swallow down the fear that my dad might peek around the corner ready to bust me for being in a gay dance club.
He’s not here.
And I don’t care.
I’ll keep telling myself that over and over again if it actually makes me believe it. I’m thankful for the small bit of alcohol buzzing through my veins. It’s enough that I feel relaxed, but I’m not sloppy like a few nights ago.
I scan the dance floor, looking for Dante. When my eyes settle on the hottest guy out there, flames lick at my cheeks, chasing fire down to my dick. That is, until I see who Dante is dancing with. It’s not that I know the guy or anything, it’s just that they’re dancing too close for my comfort. Jealous rage clouds up inside me, toxic and suffocating.
Dante is mine.
I stalk through the crowd, pushing past people, eager to pluck the twink who’s grinding his ass against my man’s dick away from him. I reach them, and like his eyes are used to seeking me out, Dante’s stare finds mine—hot, challenging, villainous.
“My turn,” I tell the cute twink.
The twink pouts for a second but then gets swept into another man’s arms. I stand in front of Dante, stock-still. Neither of us is moving as the sea of people sways back and forth to the beat.
“Fancy running into you here,” Dante says, mischief gleaming in his hazel orbs that seem to glow red under the lights.
“Can we talk?”
“I’d rather dance.” He smirks, moving his hips in a taunting way that has all the blood in my body flooding to my dick.
I snag his wrist, guiding him through the dancing bodies to a darkened corner near a speaker. It’s too loud to talk, but that doesn’t matter. He wants to dance. I’ll fucking dance. His eyes widen when I wrap my arms around his neck, my nose grazing against his. I roll my hips, rubbing against his dick that’s every bit as hard as mine. His eyes flash with hunger as his palms find my ass, hauling me to him. With our bodies smashed together, I feel at home.
God, I’ve missed him.
We begin moving in sync to the music, rubbing our aching cocks against one another while burning holes into each other with matching heated stares. All it takes is for him to lick his bottom lip to have me chasing after his tongue. He groans against my lips, clearly surprised by my kiss. I kiss him eagerly, trying to convey everything I want to say to him.
I’m sorry.
Please take me back.
I can be better for you.
His kisses almost taste like forgiveness. Almost is better than pure denial. He slides a hand up over my ass and beneath my shirt. The warmth of his skin on mine has me moaning. I want him so bad. Not because I want to fuck, but because I want to love. I want so much more than a simple way to get off. I want him.
“Dante,” I murmur. “I’m sorry.”
He pushes my ass against the speaker. “I know.”
Our kiss grows more and more heated. Dante grips my ass, lifting me enough to set me on the edge of the speaker. On instinct, I hook a leg around him, needing to be entwined with him as much as possible.
“Yoohoo,” a familiar voice hollers over the music. “Isn’t that against the law or something?”
Dante releases me like I’m on fire, leaving me panting and wanting on the speaker. Cato stares at me, shock written all over his cute face.
“I, uh, I…” I stammer, trying to find my words.
Dante grips Cato’s shoulder and whispers something to him. They both glance around. I do the same, thankful no one else seems to be paying attention to our dark corner. Cato gives me a wave and then he’s gone. Dante stalks over to me, grabs my hand, and leans in.
“Come home with me.”
Despite all the unease and lingering fear that someone might’ve witnessed our make out session, I give him a nod. I’ll worry about all the repercussions later. Right now, I need to worry about our relationship because I really can’t lose Dante. Not again. I won’t.
Dante
This was not the plan. The plan was to ignore Jax’s text. To find some twink to warm my bed for the night. Instead, my dumb ass replied to him, agreed to meet up with him, and then damn near dropped to my knees to give him head in a packed club.