Laramie’s Steakhouse had been serving prime rib and filet mignon to Hollywood’s elite since the forties. The walls were lined with framed photographs of Academy-Award-winning actors, actresses, directors, producers, and musicians of all ilk. It was an institution of sorts and one of the last of its kind to gracefully honor the past and still manage to draw younger diners who might not have any idea who Katharine Hepburn and Jimmy Stewart were.
It was nice. But in my opinion, it was a curious choice of venue for a date. Not only was the kitsch factor strong, but it was almost pitch-dark inside, and the acoustics were terrible. I had a hard time hearing myself think as the hostess led me past the crowded bar through the restaurant. Dimly lit sconces above high-backed booths and votive candles on every table provided the only real light. Maybe that was a good thing, I mused, blinking as my eyes adjusted. The clientele this evening looked young and a little underdressed.
I smiled at the pretty woman wearing a tiny skirt and a sparkly top with a plunging necklace when she stepped in the aisle in front of me, batting her fake eyelashes.
“ ’Scuse me, are you Johnny Martin?” she asked in a breathy voice, setting her manicured hand on my elbow.
“Uh, yes,” I replied, glancing distractedly toward the hostess, who politely stopped to wait for me near a pillar a few feet away.
“Oh, my gosh, I’m a huge Zero fan. Huge! Will you sign my phone case?”
“Uh…sure.” I scribbled my name and handed over her pen.
“My arm too?”
“You want me to sign your arm?” I asked incredulously.
“And can I trouble you for a selfie?”
“Um, sure. But real quick. I’m meeting someone and—”
“I know!” She squealed loud enough to turn heads two tables away.
“You know?” I repeated, smiling for her photo before stepping aside.
“I love Clay Kanzler. I’m a huge fan of his work. I’m so excited for you two. Have a great night.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I nodded my thanks and hurried to catch up to the hostess who led me to a tufted leather booth in the far corner, partially hidden from the main dining area by a half wall. A man popped up as we approached the table.
“Johnny!”
“You must be Clay.”
I gave him an appraising once-over as I shook his hand. Clay Kanzler was hot. He was an inch or two shorter than me with dark wavy hair and sharp, angular features. And though he wasn’t overly muscular, his floral button-down shirt fit snugly at his broad shoulders, indicating he spent some time in the gym. But his real attraction was his smile. His devilish grin hinted at a mind full of mischief. I loved mischief, so yeah…I immediately let my guard down and slid into the booth across from him.
Clay gestured to a nearby waiter, then turned his brilliant smile on me again. “Yes. Don’t tell me you don’t remember me. You’ll hurt my feelings.”
Doubtful.
I chuckled softly, thanking the server for the water he set in front of me before giving him my drink order. I waited for Clay to do the same and nodded politely when the waiter promised to return with menus.
“Malibu, right? It’s been a while,” I commented, leaning forward so I didn’t have to yell over the din of conversation and a James Brown classic.
“Yes.” He cocked his head and rested his elbows on the table. “You really don’t remember?”
“Sure. It was a holiday beach party. I don’t know whose house it was, but it was right on the sand. And there were a lot of pretty people shivering under heat lamps outside or popping hors d’oeuvres and ecstasy in the kitchen. We talked by the barbecue. You referred Wyatt to me. Thanks for that. My place is almost done, and he’s been great to work with.”
“Cool. Glad to hear it. Do you remember anything else?”
“Uh…well, I do remember waking up with a big-ass hangover. I felt like I’d been run over by a Mack truck.”
“You were seriously fucked up,” he reported gleefully. “Must have dipped into a dish of party favors in the kitchen earlier.”
“I don’t do drugs.”
He raised a brow at my sharp tone, glancing up when our server came by with our drinks. Clay thanked him, then ordered a few appetizers without opening the menu. When we were alone again, he lifted his gin and tonic and tapped his glass against mine.
“Salut! Hey, sorry I didn’t confer with you on the apps. I’ve been here a few times and learned the hard way that it’s best to get your order in ASAP. The bacon-wrapped shrimp is the best, but you’re allergic to shellfish, right?”
“I told you that?”
“Yeah.” His knowing smile made me uneasy.
I sipped my gin thoughtfully as I studied my “date.” Truth time…my memory of that night was foggy at best. I’d been so sick afterward that I’d purposely buried the unpleasant parts, like waking up covered in sweat and racing to the bathroom to vomit. I’d spent the majority of the next twenty-four hours hovering near the porcelain bowl with my head pounding, sure I’d caught a wicked flu bug.
“Hmm. Your memory is better than mine,” I said lightly before changing the subject. “Tell me about the photo shoot. Charlie’s excited about it.”
Clay beamed. “Love that guy! I brought my iPad to show you some new additions to my portfolio. It’ll be less in-your-face-sexy than the ones we went through a couple of months ago. I just returned home from a photo shoot in Tulum. Have you ever been? Damn, it was nice. I used a new photographer and…”
I tuned him out, nodding on cue when he talked about the color of the water and the warmth of the sand. His peppy cadence and animated hand gestures were entertaining. In fact, he seemed like the kind of guy who didn’t need a big audience. He was friendly enough that his occasional flashes of arrogance came across as self-confidence rather than self-absorption. The truth was most likely somewhere in between, but that was probably great for someone who hoped to work with a rock band.
I let him talk uninterrupted through appetizers and a second cocktail, but when our dinners arrived, I took over.
“I have a few questions for you,” I pronounced, cutting into my filet mignon.
“Sure thing. Ask away.” Clay motioned wildly with his silverware before stabbing a piece of meat.
“I know Charlie is into this idea, but why would a band release a photo album like this? No offense, but it seems like a douchey move and a waste of money. What’s the point?”
To his credit, Clay wasn’t insulted in the least. “Great question! You can make a book for your mega fans, but the real advantage is the photos themselves. Don’t quote me, but I think Charlie has plans to do a few spreads for big publications. And maybe even use one for the album cover.”
“Huh, that’s smart,” I replied idly.
“Right? I asked Wyatt’s boyfriend, Jamie, to shoot this one. His work is cutting edge and sublime at the same time. Perfect for Zero.” He paused to take a bite, then spoke around a mouthful of food. “Jamie excels in the subtler messages. Every shot will be black and white. We’ll emphasize the words and Zero’s music. I heard about the carbonated water plug too. Wow. Your timing could not be better.”
“Hmm.” I swallowed as I reached for my glass. “I hope that’s true. So, is someone supposed to take a picture of me and you?”
“Already done. I saw a flash when they brought dinner to the table.” Clay smiled as he pointed his fork toward my plate. “How’s your filet?”
“Great, thanks.” I narrowed my gaze before continuing. “Hey, just to be clear, you know this isn’t a real date, right?”
Clay threw his head back and guffawed. “I’m wounded.”
I chuckled in relief. Phew. Charlie had assured me this was a photo op moment only and a chance for me to get a sneak peek at Clay’s recent unpublished work, but I hadn’t been able to shake the sense that there was another reason I was here besides the fact that I was the only single member of the band.
“Don’t be,” I said kindly. “I want to be sure we’re on the same page. No misunderstandings.”
“Got it. No worries. I’m in the market for sex-only hookups. No dating. No relationship BS. I don’t have the time or energy or…”
He babbled on, pushing his plate aside and pulling out his iPad just as a server came to clear the table. Between his uber-fast speech and waitstaff interruption, I felt like I was a few paces behind. No, I didn’t want dessert or coffee or tea or an aperitif. I wanted him to slow the fuck down.
Clay slid his device across the white table cloth and instructed me to swipe for content. I obeyed…and wow. This was sexy shit.
Smooth, toned silhouettes of two tattooed muscular hunks entwined in carnal poses with a hint of mild BDSM. But here’s the thing—every touch was a suggestion. This wasn’t porn; it was an exposé of the beauty of human sexuality…with a kinky twist. I couldn’t look away.
A single photo of a pair of handcuffs in the middle of a perfectly made bed was followed by one of a bedside table with a single rose in a vase and a key beside it. The next featured a shirtless beefy man wearing jeans with his hand on his knee…followed by a shadow of a naked man waiting in a doorway.
It was beautifully done. Moreover, it told a story.
“This is…very nice,” I admitted, still swiping through the collage of photos. “Obviously we’d keep our clothes on, but I like the composition. It’s like you’re telling a story.”
“Exactly! It’s art and you’re artists. I think this partnership is a no-brainer for both of us.” Clay reached for his water, circling his wrist meaningfully. “Keep going, if you want, but you’ve already seen those.”
“I have?” I flipped to the next page and stared a little longer than necessary at the photo of two men kissing.
“You still don’t remember?” he prodded, clearly amused. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’m not looking for a repeat. Not that I’d say no, but—”
“What do you mean by ‘repeat’?” I snapped, fixing him with a sharp look.
Clay did a double take, then let out a strained half laugh. “You and me.”
I cocked my head, squinting so hard my forehead creased like an old man’s. “You and me…what?”
“We…you know.”
“No, I don’t know,” I insisted. “Are you saying that we…”
“Fucked,” he supplied nonchalantly.
“Really?” I choked.
“Yeah.” He raked me over with an incredulous stare. “You’re serious. I think I’m supposed to be offended, but you were wasted.”
“Wait up. You knew I was wasted, and you still had sex with me. And why don’t I remember anything? Is this a joke?” I growled in a low warning tone.
“No, it’s not a joke. Come on, you have to remember some part of that night,” he urged. “We talked about art for hours under the heat lamp. I’d just published this book and told you… ‘Beware, it’s all tongue.’ You laughed and said you could handle it. By the time you got to the last pic, the sexual tension was off the charts. You told me you were horny, I told you I’d help you out.”
I gulped. “Then what?”
“We slipped out the side and made our escape.”
“Did anyone see us?”
“Charlie and Ky. They were parked across the street from the house. Charlie called your name, but Ky distracted him. They had their hands all over each other and they looked like they were in a hurry to get home too,” Clay said with a laugh. “We didn’t talk to them. We ordered a ride and drove across the city to your place.”
“And I invited you in.”
“Yes.”
“And we had sex?” I whispered.
“Yeah.” He furrowed his brow and frowned. “Should I be insulted that you don’t remember?”
“Probably.” I swiped my hand over my jaw and heaved a sigh. “To be honest, I’m more curious about why you’d go home with a guy who was obviously fucked up.”
“I was drunk too.”
“Huh. I’ve never blacked out. Ever. That couldn’t have been alcohol. Did you drug me?”
“No, asshole,” he hissed. “I admit, I wanted you, but I’d never resort to drugging anyone to get laid. It’s not that hard to find a willing partner, fuck you very much.”
“Don’t get pissy. I’m the one who lost a few hours of my life. I woke up drenched in sweat and sick as a dog the next day. I thought I had the flu. Now I don’t think so,” I snorted. “I was alone too…no trace of anyone in my bed. And not to get too graphic, but my ass didn’t hurt.”
Clay made a funny face. “Well, mine did.”
“Oh.” That made sense. I didn’t like to bottom for guys I didn’t know well.
“Yeah, no doubt you had dried cum on your chest.”
I frowned. “Maybe. I took a shower right away, hoping I’d feel better. I guess I washed away the evidence.”
“There were condom wrappers in the trash,” he said helpfully.
“I got sick and took it out right away. Whatever.” I waved my hand dismissively like it might erase that night altogether.
“I might have a photo somewhere if you want to jog your memory. Seems like you’d rather not—”
“You took a picture?” I growled, smacking my hand on the table.
Clay started at my outburst, then narrowed his eyes. “Yes, and I showed it to you. I probably deleted it.”
“Probably?” I huffed incredulously. “I want that photo.”
“Hey, chill. Everything we did was consensual. I’m not the bad guy. I didn’t set you up then, and I’m not doing it now. But I gotta say, you’re killing my ‘I got fucked by a rock star’ buzz. I don’t give my ass to just anyone, you know.”
I almost laughed at his annoyed grumbling. I exhaled deeply and shook my head. “I believe you, but what exactly were you hoping to gain by this alliance with Zero?”
“Money,” he replied automatically. “Your band is on its way to the top. I can capture this time in your career in a unique photo collection highlighting intimate behind-the-scenes pics of Zero in action. You know, on your computer with a cup of coffee in the morning, silly studio hijinks, backstage prep, meet and greets with fans…a slice of life. The band has final say on all photos and on all accompanying verbiage. It’s your project. I’m just providing the medium.”
“Hmm. I want that photo.”
Clay inclined his head. “I’ll find it, but it’s not sexy. It’s our arms. No big deal.”
“I’ll judge for myself.”
“All right.” He handed over his credit card without looking at the bill when our server approached the table. “I might not have it at all, though.”
“Liar. You collect souvenirs, Clay. That’s all you wanted. The thrill of the chase and proof it happened.” I set my elbows on the table and leaned forward. “I’m not a notch on your bedpost.”
“Well, you kind of are,” he replied with a shrug.
“Hmph. Whatever happened between us isn’t for public consumption. It should never, ever, ever come up again. Got it?”
“Got it.” He thanked the waiter when he returned his card and signed his name on the receipt with a flourish. “But dude, it was hot sex.”
He gave me an X-rated rundown of our alleged exploits, featuring some wicked positions. And when my mind buzzed with a fleeting memory, I knew he was telling the truth. I also remembered I hadn’t felt well that day at all. I’d masked it with over-the-counter meds, mixed alcohol when I’d thought it was safe, and woke up feeling like I’d slept in a crypt. Wow. The party life of a rocker on the rise, I grumbled to myself.
“Sounds hot, but we’re not talking about it. Agreed?” I stood and held out my hand.
Clay shook it with a sigh. “Agreed. So, I guess the pretend dating thing really is a no-go.”
“Yeah, I don’t see the point. Let’s just stick to business.”
He nodded in acquiescence before leading the way through the restaurant toward the main entrance. We gave the valet our tickets and waited near the kiosk, chatting amicably about his vision for Zero’s publication.
Clay was like an energizer bunny. He talked nonstop and while his surprise at my lack of memory was genuine, he didn’t let it bother him. Like any good hedonist, he collected thrills, not baggage. He let it go and moved on to the next item on our joint agenda…work.
“…I’ll go over my proposed layout with Charlie this week. I think he’s pumped to get started and—oh, looks like you have a fan club.” Clay pulled me to his side when a flashbulb lit the sidewalk behind me.
I turned automatically, spotting the excited gaggle of college-aged kids a few feet away. I waved lamely and widened my eyes when they screamed in delight.
Okay…
“That’s a new one,” I mumbled as my SUV pulled up to the curb.
“Ah, the sweet sound of fame,” Clay teased cheerily, squeezing my shoulder companionably. “Enjoy it. Are you sure I can’t talk you into a second go?”
I handed the valet a few bucks before discreetly flipping Clay off. He chortled merrily, offering a fist bump on the way to his vehicle. I fastened my seat belt and adjusted my rearview mirror, catching another glimpse of my admirers as I drove away. What the hell was all this?
I thought about calling Charlie to ask if he’d organized a publicity stunt outside the restaurant, but he’d ask about my “date,” and I didn’t want to talk about it while I was still grappling with the idea that I’d actually had sex with the guy. It was so…disconcerting and not gonna lie, the fact that I didn’t remember made me feel dirty.
But Clay wasn’t bothered. True, guys like him didn’t have to play by the same rule book others did. His job was to push the proverbial envelope and he’d become shamelessly good at it, personally and professionally. I could be like that…to a degree. Fans expected rock stars to be wild and crazy, right? And I didn’t have anyone waiting for me at home. No one who cared if I put them first.
The only man I was interested in could never do that for me anyway. His kids would always be his number one priority. As it should be, the mature part of me insisted.
I slowed to a stop behind a Maserati on Santa Monica Boulevard, feeling more alone than I had in years. I was on the precipice of success beyond my wildest dreams, but somehow, it wasn’t enough. It might never be.
My pity party for one was in full motion by the time Vibes came into view. I adjusted the volume on a Metallica classic and at the very last second, made a right by the ice cream shop on the corner before making another right down the alleyway. Justin and Tegan had shown me a few parking tricks to avoid paying valet fees when they’d worked at the club a few years ago.
I eased my SUV into a tight spot behind an industrial-sized trash bin. The menacing sign on the stucco wall stated that trespassers would be fined a million dollars for daring to park there, but the business next door to Vibes closed at six p.m. anyway, so chances were slim the owners would make good on their threat.
I had no plan whatsoever. I wasn’t in the mood for bright lights, bumpin’ jungle beats, and the scent of horny men on the prowl. Moreover, I wasn’t even sure if Sean was here. I hoped so. I could have texted, but I wasn’t sure what I’d say. I just really wanted to see him.
I was fully prepared to walk around the building to the main entrance, but I got lucky when the ginormous bouncer guarding the rear door recognized me. I hadn’t been by in a few months, but I’d been here often enough in Zero’s early days that I knew a lot of the staff.
“Yo, John-ny!” the bouncer called, greeting me with a fist bump and a slap on the back, propelling me a couple of steps forward. “How’s it goin’, man?”
“Good. Busy tonight?” I grinned at the fierce-looking dude whose name I couldn’t remember to save my life.
“It’s fuckin’ Saturday. Of course it’s busy. Who you with? Is Tegan here?”
“I’m on my own. I’ll tell T to stop by, though.”
“Do that. We miss that motherfucker.” He held an arm open in welcome and gave a lascivious grin that looked kind of scary on his not-so-handsome mug. “Go on in. Have fun.”
“Thanks. Hey, is Sean here?”
“Yeah.” The bouncer made a show of peering over my shoulder. “His ride’s here. I’d steer clear if I were you, though. He’s pissed.”
“Why?”
“One of the bartenders didn’t show, and a couple of dudes got caught with their pants down in the bathroom. The usual, but Garrett had to man the bar till a new guy got here, and Sean had to play manager. Made him cranky. Or maybe it was something else. He looked like he wanted to rip someone’s head off. Proceed with caution.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
The thump of dance music vibrated through my body, gaining in intensity as I moved toward the main floor of the club. I traversed a dark corridor, passing the break room and another hallway leading to an office. The traffic around the bathroom was busy as usual. I slipped by a cluster of bare-chested hotties and a couple grinding like porn stars against the wall, pausing when I reached the edge of the dance floor.
What a beautiful sight. Seriously. Watching sexy men gyrate under a disco ball with flashing strobe lights while go-go dancers in G-strings shimmied on a raised catwalk was mesmerizing any day of the week. Of course, being in the middle of all that masculine energy was always better, I mused, scanning the periphery before turning toward the crowded bar.
Damn, it was chaos central. The line had to be four people deep. It wrapped around the semicircular bar area, making it impossible to see who was behind the counter without pushing and shoving my way to the front. I sucked in a breath and went for it, knocking elbows and sidling through narrow openings like a diehard fan in a mosh pit making a beeline for the stage. I was actually pretty adept at the sideline shuffle. In a matter of minutes, I was bellied up to the far edge of the bar next to a tray of limes…and just a few feet away from my frazzled-looking lover, who was busily mixing a cocktail.
I waved my arms in the air to get Sean’s attention and grinned when his no-nonsense expression cracked into a wry half smile. He inclined his head in acknowledgment and finished his task. I leaned on my elbows, unabashedly admiring his muscled forearms as he opened a martini shaker and poured alcohol into two tumblers. He handed them to a bartender, gesturing toward someone in the mass of revelers, then grabbed a dish towel and headed my way.
“What are you doing here?”
“Nice greeting,” I huffed.
Sean’s smile lit his eyes this time. “Sorry. I’m glad you’re here. Your timing is good.”
“Really? It’s crazy here.”
“I know, but our backup arrived, and I think we have it under control. Want a drink?”
“Just water, please.”
Sean spritzed water into a glass and slid it toward me, leaning forward to be heard without yelling. “How was your date?”
“You remembered.”
“That’s one way put it,” he replied in a tone I couldn’t quite read. “Be right back.”
I sipped my water casually, letting my gaze idly roam the sea of men before landing on Sean again. He stood out like a banker at a nudist colony in his designer suit pants and oxford shirt. His rolled-up sleeves were probably a concession to comfort, and yeah, it was kind of a dorky look, but the normally cutthroat crowd here loved a sexy daddy type. And Sean was the ultimate alpha dog. Demanding as fuck, but patient when necessary.
He had to notice the hungry stares aimed in his direction. He had to know that with one look he could have anyone here he wanted. Then again, maybe part of his appeal was that he was unattainable. He didn’t mix business with pleasure. In other words, he was Clay’s opposite. If I’d shown any interest in having my memory jogged about our alleged sexy encounter, Clay would have been happy to assist. Sean wouldn’t have given me the time of day. He had a strict set of rules and expected them to be followed.
Which begged the question…what the fuck was I doing here? I didn’t like rules, and I didn’t like to be told what to do. What did I want from Sean? Absolution, amnesty? I hadn’t done anything wrong. I just wasn’t sure that I’d done anything right either. And I couldn’t shake the notion that I needed to confess my sins. I needed to be told I was okay.
Fuck, I didn’t know if that even made sense. I just knew I wanted to talk to him.
I swallowed another gulp of water, glancing up when Sean reappeared. He barked orders to an employee before motioning for me to follow him. I picked up my glass and joined him at a high corner table behind the main bar, hidden almost entirely in shadows. It was less noisy here, which had to be some kind of cool trick with acoustics. The only issue was that it was a little cramped. I couldn’t ease into the barstool without upsetting the table. Sean solved the problem by moving my stool closer to his…so close that my thigh rested against his.
“I’m surprised this section isn’t crowded too. It’s bonkers here tonight,” I commented conversationally.
“True, but this table is permanently reserved. I don’t want any traffic back here. It’s a good spot to observe without getting crushed by a mob of thirsty gays.” Sean darted his gaze briefly to the bar, furrowing his brow unhappily.
“Tough day, dear?”
“You could say that. I didn’t plan on being here at all this weekend. One employee called in sick, another broke his arm skiing yesterday, and one decided not to show up at all. Garrett was overwhelmed. I need to hire an assistant for him. I shouldn’t be playing bartender. If this happened when I had the kids, I wouldn’t have been able to help. Fuck, I need a vacation,” he groused, rubbing his nape with a ragged sigh.
I pushed my glass of water toward him. “Have a drink. You need this more than I do.”
Sean smiled. “Gee, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” I shifted on my seat, sliding my thigh against his. “So…where would you go if you could go anywhere on vacation?”
“Palm Springs.”
I wrinkled my nose and made a “What the fuck?” face. “Dream bigger, buddy. You can do better than the fuckin’ desert.”
He chuckled. “I’d be fine with a weekend getaway. I should have been there this weekend. My friends were expecting me, but—”
“You have friends?”
“I pay them a friendship fee,” he countered dryly, bumping my elbow off the table. “Yeah, I have a couple of friends, wise guy.”
I grinned at his faux-exasperated snarl, noting that he already seemed more relaxed. His shoulders weren’t quite as stiff, and his expression had softened. “Good. Friends are important. What are yours like? Are they old and hip, young and boring? Have you known them forever, or are they new? Are they all gay or straight? Do they know your kids?”
“How is any of that interesting?”
That was easier to answer than I would have thought. “You’re interesting to me.”
“Really? Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but it’s not all that exciting. I’ve lost more friends than I’ve gained over the past five years. I have a handful from college and one or two who were joint friends when Fiona and I were married and the kids were little. It’s true that you find out who your friends are when life gets tough. The fact that I’ve lost more friends than I’ve kept probably says something uncomfortable about me,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh.
“It probably says you grew up. People change and evolve.”
“Maybe so.”
“And they make mistakes. Some learn from them, some don’t,” I commented like the fucking sage I was not.
“True. The thing about me is that I’m not as friendly as you. My bullshit meter runs low, and I just don’t have the patience to deal with the crap I used to think I had to deal with in my life. Friendships are important, but I’d rather have one or two good ones than surround myself with a bunch of assholes who smile at my face and talk about me behind my back. Been there, done that.”
“Hmm. What do you do on random Saturday nights when you don’t have the kids? I mean, like tonight. If you hadn’t felt like you had to help out at the club, where would you be?”
“At home watching something on Netflix, thinking about you.” He smiled when I pointed at my chest. “How’d your date go?”
“It wasn’t a date. It was a business meeting over food.”
“So…what happened?”
“What makes you think something happened?” I bluffed.
“You’re shredding that napkin, and you can’t sit still.” He set his hand over my suddenly jittery one and raised a brow. “And you’re here.”
I took another sip and blurted, “I fucked him.”
He jolted visibly. “You…tonight?”
“No, no, no. Not tonight!” I frowned and rolled my eyes. “Months ago.”
“O-kay…”
“After a holiday party in Malibu. Someone might have spiked my drink, or I might have OD’d on Sudafed and chased it with too much tequila in a lame attempt to fight the flu. I don’t remember it at all, and I always remember sex. Always. Maybe it didn’t happen. Maybe he’s lying. He doesn’t seem like the type to make up shit like that, but I guess it’s possible. It’s not a big deal, right? Right. I made it clear I’m not interested. He’s not interested either. And I didn’t do anything wrong, but I feel like I fucked up somehow.” I pushed the water to the edge of the small table and leaned in. “Can you say something, please?”
Sean stroked his beard thoughtfully. “What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Sorry. You didn’t need to know all that. Or maybe you did. You should stay away from me. I’ll find Parker another guitar teacher.”
“Why?”
“You won’t want him around me. I’m a bad influence.”
“Ah.”
“You’d think it would be fun to have a bad reputation. I should like this, but I don’t. And you’re still not saying anything,” I grumbled unhappily.
He studied me like a bug under a microscope for a long moment, then stood. “Let’s go to my office.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
My heart beat like a drum in my chest. I didn’t think the rush of adrenaline had anything to do with exertion, though it took some effort to keep up with Sean as he navigated through the club and down a deserted hallway. He unlocked the door at the end, turning on an overhead light when I stepped inside. I flopped onto one of the chairs across from the desk and sighed heavily.
Sean perched on the corner of his desk and crossed his arms. I glanced up, intending to continue my nonsensical rambling where I’d left off.
I quirked a smile instead. “I feel like I’m in the principal’s office.”
He snorted. “Did you spend a lot of time there as a kid?”
“No. I was a good kid. And if I wasn’t, I was careful not to get caught.”
He didn’t crack a smile. He suddenly looked very serious. “Take it from the top. What did he say?”
I gave Sean a full report—verbal vomit at its best. I told him about the party, the sex I missed, the picture Clay took of us and promised to give me, the recent photo spread he showed me, and his ideas for Zero.…I even mentioned the woman who asked for my autograph and the fans screaming my name in front of the restaurant.
“This whole night doesn’t seem real. I’m not that guy. But there’s a chance this is where I’m heading. Full-scale debauchery…sex, drugs, and rock and roll. I just thought you should know so you can fire me. Technically, you’re not paying me anything, but still…I’m bad news,” I declared, slouching in the chair like a kid.
Silence.
“Hmm. And you came straight from dinner to tell me that?”
“Yeah, I want to be honest. You said you don’t like surprises, and finding out I actually fucked the guy you warned me about seems like one of those big-ass oopsie-daisies that might bite me in the nuts later.”
Sean pursed his lips as though he was trying to stifle a chuckle. “Well, thank you. I appreciate your honesty.”
I waited a beat, then cocked my head. “That’s it?”
“What do you want me to do…punish you?”
I knit my brow in a faux-worried expression. “What do you have in mind?”
“I could take you across my knee, spank your bare ass, and put you in the corner.”
“Sounds hot. I’m in.” I chuckled, propping my feet on his desk.
Sean swatted my Doc Martens away and held his hand out in invitation. He pulled me between his open thighs and smacked my ass before slipping his fingers through my belt loops. “You’ve got a nasty streak. As much as I’d love to tan that fine ass of yours…I’d rather fuck it.”
I rested my arms on his shoulders and tilted my head. “You don’t hate me?”
“Everyone has a night or two they’d like to forget, Johnny.”
“Even you?”
He huffed. “Especially me. It makes sense that Charlie tried to push the dating angle now. He probably assumed you liked Clay.”
“Funny enough, I don’t dislike him. He’s true to his cause, and he has a solid vision. But I’m seriously creeped out about him knowing something about me I can’t remember.”
“Are you sure he was telling the truth?”
“Even if he lied, there’s no prize. We’re not pretending to be lovers. I made that clear and trust me, he doesn’t care. Clay wants experiences, not a boyfriend. Even a fake one would cramp his style. Zero’s business with him will be strictly professional. That should be good for your real estate deal and—” I paused when he reached between us to cup my package, pressing his thumb along the seam of my fly. “Mmm. What are you doing?”
Sean
Good question.
The door was probably unlocked, the club was packed, and I had strict rules about extracurricular activity in the workplace. But I couldn’t stop touching him.
I raked my fingers through Johnny’s thick hair and kissed his temple. I lowered my hands to unbuckle his belt, unbutton his jeans, and unzip them, then pushed his boxer briefs and jeans over his ass, squeezing each cheek as I bit his shoulder. He winced, letting out a sweet whimper as he fused his mouth to mine.
For a few minutes, it was just kissing. Long, leisurely twists of tongue and unhurried roving hands. He tasted like spearmint gum and nicotine. He tasted like honesty. There was nothing dishonest or disingenuous about this man. Everything from the way he spoke and the way he dressed was real. I needed more of that. More of him.
I broke the kiss, caressing the curve of his hip and tracing his V-line with my thumb. “Lock the door, baby.”
Johnny stepped backward and wrapped his fingers around his rigid cock, giving himself a lewd tug. And then another…before turning to comply. He clicked the lock into place and licked his lips as he moved slowly toward me. He flicked open two buttons on my oxford shirt, frowning when I captured his wrists.
“Let me take yours off.”
I shook my head, kissed his inked knuckles, and stood. “No. That’s not how this is gonna go tonight. I’m in charge. Your only job is to listen. And obey.”
“That’s two jobs,” he snarked.
“I think you can handle it, but if not…there may be repercussions.”
Johnny’s grin spread across his face like wildfire. “I like the sound of that. What do you want me to do first?”
“Bend over my desk. Show yourself to me,” I commanded.
“And you’re keeping your suit on? That’s not fair.”
I put my hands on my hips and held his stare until he groaned grumpily and turned to face the desk. He swayed from side to side, glancing over his shoulder expectantly. When I didn’t move or react, he reached back to trace his crack. I swatted his hand away, then smacked his ass hard enough to leave a handprint. He grunted…and damned if he didn’t hum in pleasure.
“What did I say about listening to me?”
“I have no idea. Just tell me your dick is involved here.”
I skirted my desk and grabbed a bottle of lube and a condom from the top drawer, chuckling softly when he murmured, “Thank fuck.” But I didn’t answer his litany of questions. He’d find out what we were doing soon enough.
“Such a pretty ass. Spread your cheeks for me. That’s it.” I poured lube on my fingers and moved behind him, bending to kiss his ear as I slid a single digit along his crease. “Does that feel good?”
“Mmm. Yeah. More.”
“What do you say?”
“Please,” he begged.
I rested my middle finger on his puckered entrance and closed my fist around his cock. “Better?”
“No, give me more.”
“Like this?” I pushed my finger inside him as I stroked him from base to tip.
He shivered in response. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”
I shoved his jeans farther down his legs so they pooled around his ankles, letting him take hold of his dick. “Whoa. Relax, partner. You’re not coming for a while.”
Johnny turned to give me a dirty look. “What the hell? I want you to fuck me. Isn’t that what we’re doing here?”
I raised my brows. “You want me to fuck you in my office? You know there’re a lot of people on the other side of that door.”
“Who cares?”
“I’m the boss. I can’t fuck a patron,” I replied matter-of-factly.
“Very fucking funny. I promise never to come here again…if you let me come here now. I’m obviously desperate. Look at me.” He gestured at his cock sticking out proudly from under his shirt.
I nipped his bottom lip and snickered. “You have no idea how sexy you are. Half-dressed and oh-so horny for me. Let me see. Go on…bend over.”
Johnny obeyed, wiggling his ass and moaning aloud when I slipped my finger inside him again. I undid the buttons on his shirt with my free hand and tweaked his nipples.
He straightened, shooting a funny glance my way as if he expected me to chastise him for moving without permission. I didn’t say a word. I just added a second digit and finger-fucked him in earnest, licking his neck and sucking his earlobe, then capturing his mouth in a rough kiss.
A disco jungle beat reverberated in the small office as though the frenetic, sensual energy from the club had slipped under the door. I could feel the pulse of heat and desire swell around us. My tongue in his mouth, my fingers inside him. Johnny gasped for air, dislodging from my hold. When he teetered for balance, I steadied him and slapped his ass. Then I undid my trousers and freed my aching cock from my boxer briefs, shoving the fabric aside as I reached for the condom.
“Mmm, do it again. Make it red. I want your hands on me,” he begged.
I unwrapped the latex and released an unsteady breath. He was killing me. I added lube to my sheathed cock, pumped myself, and rubbed his pinkened flesh a few times before spanking him again. And again.
Johnny went nuts. He growled my name and gripped himself, stroking like mad.
“Shh. Settle down. I want inside you.”
“Yes, yes, yes.”
I lined my dick at his hole and pushed…and didn’t get anywhere. I probably hadn’t prepared him enough, and more lube was always a good idea. I backed off to add more, but he stopped me.
“Baby, I don’t want to hurt you,” I whispered, slicking his entrance with the pad of my thumb.
“You won’t. Fuck me…just fuck me.”
I rested my forehead on his shoulder, willing my breath to steady as I made my way inside him again. I didn’t stop this time. I pushed inch by inch, burying myself to the hilt. I kissed his neck and splayed my hands over his toned abs, pushing the fabric of his shirt aside before dipping lower to wrap my fingers around his.
We found our rhythm almost immediately. He moved back when I moved forward as if we were dancing a waltz…perfectly in time. But there was nothing pretty about the act. Johnny liked rough and dirty, and I did my best to deliver. I let go of his cock to clutch his ass, digging my nails into his skin as I rode him hard from behind, pistoning my hips over and over while he grunted and begged for more. Faster, more, faster, more.
I grabbed a fistful of his hair and bucked into him, gritting my teeth when my balls drew up and that tingle of pleasure warned me that I was close.
“Johnny, I’m gonna come.”
My orgasm pulled me under and nearly drowned me in a sea of intense pleasure. I trembled wildly, grasping at his hair, then his shirt for purchase. Just as I caught my breath, he pushed at my chest and wiggled free. I stumbled a step, blinking in surprise as he sank to his knees on the concrete floor.
“Take off the condom. Let me taste you.”
“Holy fuck.”
I rolled the rubber off in a manic hurry. A moment later, he swallowed me whole, humming around my overly sensitive shaft when his own release hit him. Then he pulled off and roared. Cum shot in an impressive arc, landing on the concrete floor and no doubt splattering my Hugo Boss suit pants and Prada loafers.
And no, I didn’t mind at all.
I sucked in a gulp of air and chuckled. What a sight we made. We were half-dressed with our button-down shirts open and our pants around our ankles.…I was the shameless older businessman, and Johnny was my bad-boy punk counterpart. I studied the scripted ink on his lower abdomen, thinking it would be hot as fuck to lick his sweat and cum from his—
“What are you thinking?”
I scratched my beard as I surveyed the scene. “How the fuck did this happen? And what did I do with that condom?”
Johnny barked a laugh. “In a twist, it appears that I’m irresistible to you. As for the jizzy condom, you dropped it…there.”
He picked up the spent latex and tossed it into the trash bin under my desk, scrambling to his feet. He pulled tissues from the box next to my computer and handed a few to me, then cleaned himself.
The thump of dance music seemed louder than ever now. It filled the space, offering a medley of excuses if we wanted one. Too tired, too stressed, too out of it…I didn’t need any of them, but I’d let Johnny take the lead here.
I tucked my shirt and finished buckling my belt before rescuing the used condom from the trash. I wrapped it in tissue along with the wrapper and dropped the bottle of lube in my desk drawer.
“Ready to go?”
Johnny narrowed his eyes in bewilderment as he fussed at his collar. “Gross. What are you doing with that?”
“I can’t leave this in the trash. The cleaning staff will think I had sex in here.” I closed my palm around the wad of tissues in my hand, making sure I had my phone and keys before heading to the door.
“You did have sex in here.”
“And it was amazing. But I’m not advertising it.”
I meant that in more than one way.
Johnny inclined his head, indicating he understood. “Hmm. Now what?”
“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”
He moved to my side and grabbed a handful of my junk through my suit pants, flashing a mischievous grin. “I want to go back to your house or mine and do that again. You in?”
I pushed him against the door and shoved my tongue down his throat. He didn’t hesitate. He threw his arms around my neck and gave as good as he got. We broke for oxygen with a laugh and took one last measuring glance at each other. I wondered what he saw in me. A divorced dad who excelled in keeping people at bay. I was no catch. But he didn’t seem to want more than sex anyway, so perhaps he was the perfect distraction.
“Yeah, I’m in.”