What the fuck? Who the hell danced toAchy Breaky Heart?
Leather cap, chaps, thong, and boots.
The dancer kept perfect time, swaying and stepping to the beat, head down, with the hat hiding most of his face.
Oil and a smattering of dark hair glimmered on his muscular chest. He wasn’t too bulky, didn’t worship at the altar of barbells, but his sleek body fit right in with Lucky’s ideal. A swimmer or runner’s build.
Something about the movements… Nah, couldn’t be.
But yet, the curve of his biceps, the neatly trimmed chest hair. Lucky’s heartbeat sped up.
The first verse of the song wound down and the chorus began. Holding his hat in place with one hand, the guy spun, putting the world’s finest bubble butt, framed by black leather, up close and personal with Lucky’s face.
It didn’t matter how or why. Questions could come later. Lucky raised his hands to caress Bo’s taut flesh.
“No touching,” Rex hissed over his shoulder.
Okay, maybe only no touching for the customer, because the biker’s wet dream come to life whirled and straddled Lucky’s thigh, thrusting his hips and grinding. He brought his chest within kissing distance of Lucky’s lips and backed off.
Lucky shifted in the chair. Damn his tight-assed blue jeans, choking the life out of his bound-up cock. His cock wanted out of the jeans, out of the chair, and into “Rex”.
Bo added fuel to the fire by rubbing his hand over Lucky’s crotch. A few more rubs would solve the problem.
“How long’s it been?” Bo nipped Lucky’s earlobe.
“Five weeks, three days, fourteen hours.”
“Liar.”
“Seems like longer.” More like forever since Lucky had rolled over in the night to find Bo beside him. Forever and a whole lot of sleepless nights.
Bo nuzzled Lucky’s neck. “Agreed.”
Lucky owed Johnson dinner. His car. His firstborn. Whatever she wanted for giving him the perfect gift.
Bo. Even if he only looked, couldn’t touch, and definitely wouldn’t get to take the man home.
The song ended. Bo unwound himself from Lucky, sweat sheened, and waited by the chair. Waited for what?
Oh. Lucky tucked the money from Johnson into Bo’s thong, adding extra contact with his fingers. No touching, hell!
Bo bent at the waist and barely skimmed his lips over Lucky’s cheek while slipping a piece of paper into his hand. What?
Oh. The list. So, Bo wasn’t only a birthday gift, but Johnson’s contact. Lucky stood, so close he could bring Bo to his chest with little effort.
“Meet me out back in thirty minutes.” Like putting on a shirt, Bo rearranged his thong, donned his “Rex the Stripper” persona and swaggered out of the room.
Lucky uncramped his dick, waited a few minutes for his raging hard-on to subside, and made his way back into the bar. Johnson shooed away a few barflies and handed him another beer. “You get the list?”
Lucky nodded.
“Did you enjoy your birthday present?” She grinned.
What should he say? While he loved seeing his partner, even if for a few minutes, it wouldn’t do to make too much of her efforts. Lucky was the woman’s boss after all. “It was okay.” Better than okay. Fan-damn-tastic.
Johnson stood. “Good. Now, let’s have some fun while we’re here. Dance with me.”
Lucky stared at her outstretched hand. Dance? Him? And her? When she could pick him up and twirl him like he weighed nothing?
