I’m expecting Adrian to answer, but Lance breathes out the smallest, neediest sound I’ve ever heard. “Please.”
He looks up at me, eyes glazed, cheeks flushed. The tip of his tongue is almost sliding out. I put my hands on Lance’s lower back, the heat of his bare skin burning against my palms. I grip him tight and pull him closer as he keeps rolling his hips in that striptease grind against me.
Adrian’s hands slide up to Lance’s abs and chest, making room for mine. I let them roam his sides, stomach, the firm swell of his ass where I can still feel Adrian pressed tight behind him. Lance’s fingers dig harder into my chest. His exhale comes out rough and shaky against my mouth. His eyes never leave mine, dark and starving.
The room is silent except for the heavy bass and our breathing.
Lance isn’t performing anymore.
Neither am I.
Adrian eventually steps back, leaving Lance dancing for me alone.
I stay standing as Lance turns around. He presses his back to my chest, ass grinding against my crotch, and guides my hand over his body. His other hand reaches back to grip my nape, pulling me tighter while he sways to the beat. He then slides my fingers inside the waistband of his boxer briefs, letting me feel his smooth skin right above his cock, but he doesn’t let me touch it or go down any further. He holds my hand there for a few torturous seconds, then pulls it back out.
I’m about to lose my goddamn mind.
He drops into a deep crouch in front of me. His back muscles shift and flex under the low light as he pushes his ass back firmly against me, his hands touching the floor. The position is pure, raw fucking. I press forward instinctively, my erection sliding hardalong the seam of his jeans. He nearly topples but I catch his hips in time, fingers digging in tight to steady him.
Lance glances back at me over his shoulder, eyes blazing with pure filth. He holds the pose for a few more beats, then slowly rises and turns to face me again.
When the songs finally ends, he takes one step back. We stand there facing each other, breathing hard, unable to look away.
That’s when the front door opens.
19
Lance
Holloway steps through the front door still dressed in the dark suit, his tie already pulled loose at the collar. He stands there without speaking at first, broad and steady, absorbing the full scene. The phone is still recording from the corner. Adrian remains shirtless just behind me. My bare chest rises and falls in quick rhythm, while George, still fully clothed, stands in front of me, not as steady as he’s probably trying to look.
Holloway’s face stays calm, almost neutral, yet his eyes sharpen with clear interest as they travel across the three of us. They pause on the camera, then settle on Adrian.
“Baby?” he says, the word carrying affection mixed with clear want.
Adrian moves instantly. He crosses the room in a rush and jumps straight into Holloway’s arms. Holloway catches him easily, both hands coming up to cradle Adrian’s face as he pulls him into a deep kiss. Only when Adrian is securely wrapped around him do his hands slide down, one settling firmly on Adrian’s back, the other gripping his ass possessively.
“I’ve been waiting for you all day,” Adrian says breathlessly against his mouth, excitement clear in his voice. “Knowing you’rewatching me live…these two have me worked up.” He lets out a soft breath, almost a laugh. “Did you see me? Did you see us?”
Holloway laughs softly, the sound warm with pleasure. “Yes, I saw everything.”
Adrian’s smile turns playful. “Good. Maybe next time I’ll paint completely naked so you can watch me work from my studio wherever you are.”
Holloway’s eyes brighten with clear approval. “I’d like that very much.”
Then, as if remembering we’re also in the room, Holloway looks past Adrian’s shoulder and meets my eyes, then George’s.
“Hey,” I chirp. “Hope you don’t mind us making ourselves comfortable.”
Holloway’s mouth curves as he slips the tie free and drops it onto the chair beside him. “Comfortable is one word for it. My man’s halfway out of his clothes before I even made it home.”
I flash a wolfish grin. “Adrian’s been passing on his stripper skills. At this rate, I might do this full-time. Go all in.”
Adrian’s cheeks color, but he smiles. “You barely needed me.” His open and knowing attention toggles between George and me. “Though someone needed to cut the line pulling tight between you two.”
Holloway’s smile widens a little that he looks borderline creepy, because this guy rarely does that.
The striptease on George has fucking wrecked me. Everyone sees me as the cocky bastard with confidence for days, the guy who charges into any damn challenge without blinking. But aiming all that straight at him left me shaking under the bravado.
