Tall.
On the muscular side of lanky.
Hotter than a Humvee in J-Bad.
Dark hair.
A chiseled jaw with a just barely-there beard.
And… fuck me, DSL’s that had me imagining them wrapped around my cock.
“Oh yeah. It’s going to be a damn good night.”
Scott stopped dead in front of me and looked at me over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”
I sighed. I knew bringing him would be a wet blanket, but I felt sorry for the kid.
“I mean, I’m going to go talk to that sexy motherfucker over there. While I do that, get yourself a drink and go make nice with all the pretty boys on the dance floor.”
Scott’s face paled, and eyes widened as he glanced around. He looked ready to bolt, but he sucked in a deep breath and nodded before heading off toward the bar.
I tried to cover my interest in the hottie at the bar, but I gave up the pretense when he tilted his drink at me. Since the ruse was up, I locked my gaze with his before letting my eyes drift down his body.
I stepped up to the bar beside him and asked, “So, gorgeous, what are you? A top or a bottom?”
His gorgeous greenish-blue eyes flickered to my face before taking the same stroll mine took down his. He licked his lips, and a dimple deepened on his cheek right above his beard.
As he brought the beer bottle to his mouth, he stopped, stared me right in the eyes, and said, “A pancake ain’t done until it’s been flipped, son.”
Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Elvis has left the building. Stick a fork in me, I’m done. Or better yet, his cock.
“I like the way you think,” I said, slipping an arm around his waist, pulling him into me.
Our gazes stayed locked together as heat flared between us. That heat grew into a raging inferno where our bodies touched. A thrill surged through me at the feel of his cock hardening against my leg.
“I’m glad, I’m a lotta things, but I ain’t a home wrecker.”
Confusion pinched my face until I realized he meant Scott. “He and I aren’t a thing.”
“And I should take your word for it?”
“A girlfriend…”
Eyebrows arched, and eyes widened comically so.
“Not that kinda girlfriend. A friend who is a girl.”
An exhale expanded his chest, pushing it into mine and making him fill my arms a bit more.
“I am bisexual, though.”
“Hmm, yeah, limits don’t appeal to me.”
“So you’re pan.”
“If you gotta pick a label, that works best. My motto is, as long as the person consents and has a heartbeat, I’m DTF.”
I smirked. Visions of rolling around in bed with him, spit-roasting him or a woman, made my dick twitch. He rubbed against my hard-on, and I groaned.
