Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
When the evening got colder, and the party moved inside, the atmosphere between them became denser with unspoken desire. It didn’t help that the clubhouse was a pit of bikers with loose morals, so by the middle of the night the air smelled of booze, cigarettes, and sex. The loud rock music was doing its job of masking the moans of a couple fucking against the pool table, but they were undeniably there, reminding Arden how good wild, careless sex could be. How he used to enjoy losing inhibitions and going with the flow.
The music grew heated, and Arden rolled his head over his shoulders, jumping while other people’s sweat clung to him in the tight clump of bodies. He recognized Mike’s hand when it touched the small of his back, but he would not give in so easily and swatted it away, grabbing the pole to crawl onto the empty stage.
He was far from a pole-dancing master, but his sister was a stripper, and he’d picked up a trick or two. Right now, he did wish he had the death trap heels on, just to excite Mike more, even if wearing them might cost him broken bones. Mike would take care of him if something happened.
“Mike! Watch me!” he yelled over the music with a grin.
Tonight, he’d allow himself to live in the dreamland where Mike was his boyfriend for real, and where neither of them had a care in the world. Arden slid down the pole, giving Mike a not-so-sneaky peek under his skirt, then got right back up, arching his chest and ignoring the rhythm as he danced on.
Not all of the guests appreciated his efforts, and Mike’s uncle outright scowled before one of the older MC members pulled him outside, but there were whistles too, and Kane’s girlfriend, who sat on her man’s shoulders, as if they were at a rock concert, applauded him, hooting loudly.
But only Mike’s opinion mattered. He was the only one Arden noticed, and as he got to his toes and reached out to touch Arden, face relaxed with the booze he’d drank, the sense of triumph filled Arden’s heart.
Arden got to his knees, crawling toward Mike like a cat, but didn’t bother assessing where the edge of the stage was and almost fell face first to the floor.
Almost. Because Mike was there to catch him and pull him into an embrace while someone else took their turn at the pole to the choir of loud whistles.
“Careful there, baby, or you won’t live to get your reward,” Mike said, holding Arden to his chest, as if he were afraid to crush him. He stepped away from the stage, and while Arden sensed his legs poking people as they passed, he felt safe under the protection of his loyal guard dog.
“I hope my reward is a delicious shot of strawberry vodka!” Arden giggled and stopped Mike to kiss him on the lips. The new beard oil had a minty aroma Arden lived for, and he rolled against Mike, whose breath shook with excitement as he stumbled toward the bar and sat Arden on the sticky counter.
“Wait for it,” he said, pushing back hair that got into his face and opened his wallet before lifting the top of Arden’s stocking and sliding a rolled-up bank note under it.
Arden cackled all too loudly, but wasn’t embarrassed. Mike had that cocky smile, that easy way about him that could turn ferocious when push came to shove, and all of Arden’s senses responded to that with attraction. Like invisible tentacles, Arden’s pheromones reached out for Mike, desperate to latch on.
After that fateful night at the hotel in San Francisco, Arden had found it hard to think about anything other than tumbling into bed with Mike. They’d been civil, respectful of each other’s boundaries even when waking up next to each other with boners, but being this close set a fire to his panties.
While Mike’s attraction to him was as obvious as the fact that the sun rose every day, he didn’t try to break Arden’s will or emotionally blackmail him into giving in. Even this stupid open relationship idea seemed like an honest attempt at resolving a problem Mike struggled with, and he didn’t seem angry over Arden roping him back. He was the mustang that actually knew it was better off lassoed.
Whatever Mike liked to say, he was a good guy at the core, and he didn’t take things other people didn’t want to give him. So instead of using tricks, he waited, teased, tempted, until Arden’s refusal to give in hung by the last threads of willpower.
And those were wearing increasingly thin.
The later into the night, the more his brain nudged him to just have some fun and not overthink this. Mike’s smell evoked that night Arden had lost his mind and temporarily forgotten his boundaries. Strong, masculine, it reminded Arden how Mike’s weight had felt on top, and how good it had felt to spread his legs for a man without fear.