I push through the crowd, panic and anxiety starting to swell, because I can’t find him.
Shit! What if he’s lying in a ditch somewhere or handcuffed to someone’s bed, or—
I push my fingers into my eyes to rid myself of the image of Mack handcuffed to a bed, those long, muscled arms flexing, those perfect pecs on display.
My cock awakens, and I groan.No! Not a good idea, Alex, not now!
The lights above flash over the crowd, lighting up faces that aren’t his as I push towards the stage.
I should have kept better tabs on him, should have never let him go awol from the group, should have argued with him and told him to stay and—
My heart stops; I could pass out from relief. There, at the front of the stage, sits Jordan Mackenzie, hands in his lap as a stripper shakes her ass in front of him. Well, he’s not really sitting as much as he’s two inches away from slipping off the chair and falling to the floor, but I digress. He’s safe and that’s what matters.
I stand just out of his vision and watch. Maybe it’s wrong, but we’re in a public place. I’m not the only one watching the show. There’s plenty of people here doing the same thing.
But if heknewI was watching, he’d get pissed off and tell me to fuck off.
Typically, I prefer to be the one being watched. Caught. Whatever you want to call it. I like to put on a show, especially if I know I have an audience.
It’s easier to be the person everyone thinks I am, rather than the disaster that’s hiding beneath. Because underneath all the muscles and sarcasm, that is what I really am—a mess.
Too Much. Not Enough. Unloveable. Undeserving.
But I can be whatever they want me to be, too. I can be a goodboy, if I want.
At least, that’s what I tell myself. Fake it until you make it, right?
The stripper bends over Jordan, shoving her tits in his face. It’s not a bad sight, but he doesn’t look interested. Must be drunker than I thought. He pushes her breasts away, instead, going straight for her panties with some dollar bills that haphazardly fall out of his hand. She doesn’t notice, too engulfed in running her hands over his solid chest and grinding along his lap.
I take a few steps forward until I am right next to him.
“You’ll need to wait your turn,” she says sweetly.
“I’m not here for you, babe,” I say with a smirk. “Though, you are doing a great job!”
I lean down to grab the discarded bills and the ones still clutched in his fist.
My fingers brush his and I have to fight the urge to tangle mine between them. His fingers are thick, rough to the touch, and the thought of what they’d feel like around my neck, my cock…
Fuck me. Fuck me to hell.
I let go regrettably and hand the bills to the stripper.
“Think he meant to give this to you,” I say as she slides away from Mack.
She shoots me a lusty gaze. “Thanks, cutie.”
Maybe I should’ve gotten a lap dance instead of doing the body shots. Oh well, I guess I’ll have to make thata priority tomorrow night, because as Mack groans, I know my night is fucked in more ways than one.
“Can you stand?” I ask, trying to figure out how I’m going to carry him if he can’t.
“What?” Mack’s voice is thick, raspy from his excessive drinking.
I take in the sight of him like this—sprawled out in the chair with that rather large bulge, legs spread wide, his dark hair a mess and sticking to his sweaty face.
“Can you stand?” I ask again as I lean over him. My lips are so close to his ear, I could lick his earlobe. Bite it, even.
I bet he’d jump out of this chair if I did that. Tell me to fuck off. Probably punch me in the face. It’d be worth it.
