Cole barely noticed them; every nerve ending in his body ignited beneath Dane's touch as his hands caressed Cole's exposed back, tracing each vertebra before moving down to grip his hips with possessive intensity. His fingertips nudged beneaththe rear waistband of his jeans, gripping the upper swell of his ass cheeks. Cole instinctively shoved harder against the man, his palms exploring Dane's lean, muscular chest, thumbs grazing across his stiff nipples that hardened further under his touch.
Suddenly, Cole's back collided with Dane's chest, their sweat-slicked skin fusing like hot wax. Dane's fingers dug into his hipbones as the man’s denim-covered erection ground rhythmically against the curve of Cole's ass. Cole found Dane's wrists—strong, corded with veins—and their fingers laced together, palms sliding over the ridges of Cole's abdomen, tracing the shallow valley between his pecs, before trailing lower to daringly follow the rigid shape pressing insistently against denim.
“Fuck.”The word escaped Cole's lips as he arched backward, pressing so forcefully against Dane that the thunderous gallop of the man's heart reverberated through his shoulder blade. His eyelids fluttered closed, and in that velvet darkness, Dane's features dissolved into Gabe's—those piercing blue eyes, that full bottom lip caught between teeth. When his eyes snapped open, they locked instantly on Gabe across the pulsating club, white-knuckling the edge of his barstool, thighs tensed and jaw clenched as if physically restraining himself from pouncing.
Cole held that electric stare, his chest heaving with shallow breaths, lips parted and glistening as his tongue darted out, sweeping a wet path across them. That single, deliberate gesture shattered Gabe's restraint. He launched from the stool, crossing the floor in long, purposeful strides, his fingers already working the buttons of his shirt before violently tearing it from his torso and hurling it into the mass of men whose hungry howls rose above the thundering bass.
CHAPTER 8
Gabe crossed the floor in three long strides, his body finding the beat before he even reached them, and seized Cole by the waist, his fingers branding the exposed skin above Cole's jeans. Without missing a beat, he melded into their rhythm, his body a perfect counterweight to Dane's. Cole found himself caught in the vise of their synchronized movements, Dane's chest pressed against his back while Gabe's hips rolled against his front, both men moving with a precision that left him breathless.
Cole snaked one arm up behind Dane’s hot, slick neck and the other around Gabe, gripping the back of his head. His hair was still damp from their earlier “warm up,” and Cole’s fingers slid through the wet strands, pressing firmly against his fevered scalp, dragging his face closer until their lips nearly brushed—a torturous, almost-kiss that electrified every nerve ending below his waist.
Electric blue eyes seared into Cole as Gabe's open mouth hovered so close that the heat of his quickened breath surged between Cole's parted lips and down his throat, tasting of alcohol and raw desire. A deep groan escaped Cole as he gripped Gabe's head harder, his blunt nails gouging the stripper's scalp, his hips involuntarily bucking forward, desperate to taste the man's molten kiss while feeling the delicious friction of their erections grinding together through denim.
Gabe pushed closer, his thick, throbbing cock finding the perfect angle against Cole's own straining hardness, shoving him back against Dane, whose hips rolled and swiveled against Cole's ass in sinuous waves. Dane was impressively hard, but Gabe's cock radiated heat like molten steel through the denim barrier between them, pulsing with each heartbeat, sending waves of hunger through Cole’s rigid shaft.
Cole moaned helplessly—a raw, broken sound—as his head dropped back onto Dane's shoulder, exposing the vulnerable column of his throat. Gabe seized the invitation, descending with parted lips that suckled and nipped at the sensitive skin, leaving a trail of fire. His tongue traced a wet path up to Cole's ear, where his teeth grazed the lobe before his voice, rough with lust, sent vibrations through Cole's core.
“Is this too much?” he panted, his breath hot and ragged against the shell of Cole's ear, making him shudder violently between the two men. “Do you want to stop?” Even as he asked, Gabe's hips rolled in a mind-numbing figure-eight that made Cole's cock leak against his boxer briefs. His words contradicted the possessive way his hands slid down to grip Cole's hipbones, thumbs hooking into belt loops to pull their bodies impossibly closer. Gabe's pelvis rolled in a hypnotic rhythm that shot electric currents into Cole's painfully confined cock. Dane matched the tempo perfectly, his fingers splaying across Cole's abdomen, dipping dangerously below his waistband.
Cole swallowed hard, his throat clicking dry, coherent thought dissolving into pure sensation as pleasure short-circuited his ability to form words.
Is this how you “don’t” overwhelm him?
The thought fought its way through the thick sexual haze clouding Gabe’s mind, and even then, it only made a fleeting appearance. But it was enough to give him pause and cause his rhythm to falter. Cole had a tight grip on the back of his head, clenching a fistful of his hair, forcibly holding Gabe’s face closeto his as they panted into each other’s mouths—yet not quite kissing.
Cole maintained an equally tight grip on Dane, his fingers digging into the sweat-slicked nape of the other man's neck, short hairs curling around his knuckles. Sandwiched between the two strippers’ hard bodies, Cole rode their rhythm with unexpected confidence, his spine undulating in perfect synchrony with the pulsing bass that vibrated through the floor and up his legs.
His response to Gabe's question came not in words but in the desperate tightening of his grip on those dark, damp strands, yanking just hard enough to make Gabe's pupils dilate, then thrusting his hips forward in a slow, deliberate grind that left nothing to the imagination. Cole hooked his right leg around Gabe's muscular thigh as he drew it firmly against his throbbing crotch, riding the solid muscle with the same desperate intensity as before.
“Boss man is here,” Dane panted over Cole’s shoulder without missing a beat, his sleek, muscular body maintaining its rhythm.
Gabe’s forehead pressed hard against Cole’s, their eyes locking onto each other. His thigh drove deeper between Cole’s legs, the man’s cock a steel rod against his leg muscle. Gabe forced his head to turn toward the bar. It took a moment for his bleary eyes to focus past the growing crowd of men as he spotted Max Raines perched on a stool, watching them. Gino stood next to him, having apparently abandoned the stage after losing his customers to the floor show.
Max caught his eye and raised an eyebrow.
Gabe groaned and shoved his face into Cole’s neck. “Fuck…”He was so fuckinghard,and so ready to cum—but even with his body eager to launch over that ledge, he still didn’t want their first orgasm to happen this way.
When Gabe withdrew—not without effort—both Dane and Cole slowed their pace until they stood still in the middle of the floor, breathing heavily, sweat trickling down their flushed faces.
“We should… speak to the boss,” Gabe panted, barely able to catch his breath. He wiped a shaky hand over his slick, fevered face, then cupped the side of Cole’s neck, his skin scalding to the touch. Gabe’s thumb stroked small circles just below Cole’s earlobe as he gazed into the man’s hazy eyes. “I think we could all use a breather, huh?”
A stuttering“Yeah”escaped from Cole with a small gasp of breath as he leaned into Gabe’s touch. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, the heat fusing them, unwilling to let go.
“Come on, boys,” Dane said with a smile, exhaling as he grabbed their shoulders and guided them toward the bar.
Cole reached out, his fingers fumbling and then catching onto the rear waistband of Gabe’s pants, more for support than anything else, as his legs felt dangerously close to giving out beneath him. His gait was stiff and unsteady, with the painful bulge between his thighs.
Dane lowered his arm to wrap around Cole’s lower back, helping to steady him. He appreciated the support and leaned into the man slightly while still holding onto Gabe’s pants. The heat from their overstimulated bodies continued to flow between the three of them, keeping Cole lightheaded as they navigated through the sea of disgruntled men, upset that the show had been cut short.
Cole looked ahead, really noticing the club boss for the first time. He was an attractive man in his early thirties with black hair, dressed casually. As they approached, Cole saw his eyes were emerald green, a color intensified by his dark hair.
“That was… impressive,” Max said with a small smile, looking at Cole. He held out his hand. “I’m Maxwell Raines, owner of the Phoenix.”
Cole accepted the handshake. “Cole,” he mumbled, his voice thick. “Cole Young.”
“Cole was thinking about applying for a job here at the club,” Gabe said with a notable rasp. “We were just…” He cleared his throat and smiled. “Showing him some moves.”
