Blue Moon: Too Good to Be True (3 page)

He scrambled toward the door as if hell hounds were nipping at his heels, not bothering to check if the Captain was finished with him or not.
Shit, shit,
shit…great! The last thing I need is the Captain thinking I’m a fucking homophobe
.

Fuck!
Everyone knew the Captain was gay and the little twink in his office was his whole life. Nobody gave him any shit about it either, because if they did, not only would they be out of a job but they would leave with a size-twelve boot shoved up their ass. As he shut the door behind him he could’ve sworn the Captain was smirking at his fluster.

Dammit! I wasn’t disgusted at al …it was actual y…kinda hot.
Max blinked rapidly and shook his head, completely unsure where that crazy thought came from.
I need to go for a run or something.

Instead of going to the workout room as planned Max decided to go back to his bunkroom and catch a little power-nap before his shift started at midnight. He closed and locked the door behind him and flopped down on the freshly made twin mattress. He’d lucked out this weekend by not having to share a room. Since he was pulling a seventy-two hour while everyone else had twenty-fours or forty-eight-hour shifts, the Captain gave him first dibs.

He lay in the dark room staring up at the ceiling, his eyes getting heavy as his thoughts drifted to his Captain and the look of ecstasy that flashed across

his strong face when he kissed his man. Max’s breath hitched in his throat.

Fuck.
His hand had unconsciously made its way inside his shorts, grazing over his stiff cock.
Was I just thinking about my damn Captain while touching my
dick? What the hel is wrong with me today?
A frown creased his forehead as he pondered that for a moment.
Nah, I just need to get laid, that’s al
.

He let one hand stay on his cock and brought the other up to pinch his already hardening nipple.
Aahhh…damn that feels good
, he chanted silently in his mind. Max couldn’t figure out why the hell he was so excited. His cock was hard enough to pound nails. He got a firm grip around his prick, loving how the calluses on his right hand created the perfect friction. He gathered the precome forming on the smooth head and used it to make his stroke glide easier up and down his length.
Oohh…yeah…fuck, fuck, fuck!
Max couldn’t figure out what the hell was driving him this insane with lust, but all the blood left his head on his shoulders and landed at the head of his cock.

All logic and reasoning had been temporarily suspended.

He abandoned his now-supersensitive nipples and let that hand trail down his tense stomach to the silky hair that narrowed as it got closer to his groin. He cupped his drawn-up sac and began to massage it roughly in his palm.
Damn…I’m about to come…Shit…I’m coming!
Max’s eyes were shut tight.

He stroked faster and faster until he was seeing stars under his eyelids. He vaguely realized his moaning was getting louder. Every one of the fighters in the station had done their share of whacking off on their down time, but no one wanted to actually hear it. Max tried to rein it in, but he was fighting a losing battle.

Max flipped over, abruptly dislodging his hands from his cock and balls and pumped his dick repeatedly into the firm mattress under him. He squeezed the one pillow he had into his face to smother his cry. He pounded with more determination, picturing a firm body underneath him and at his complete control.
Yeah…yeah…take it…take it…uuhh… deeper, deeper,
deeper…fuuucckk.
He tensed every muscle he had and came so hard into the sheets that he convulsed for five minutes before he was able to regain a little brain function again.

Max lay still and huffed out short bursts of air until he was eventually able to even out his breathing. “What the fuck was that all about?” he whispered into the empty room. Max had jerked off plenty of times, but he’d never raped the shit out of the bed before.
Jesus
. He couldn’t help but wonder who he’d just dominated.
Whoever the hel it was or will be better be damn
strong if they’re going to take that kind of a pounding.

Chapter Three

Angel waited in his soundproof office on the second floor of his club.

Jazz was going to come in any minute to finish his hair for him. Angel was not feminine by any means, or—what did they call those types of guys, that spent hours grooming and waxing?—a “metro sexual.” The extremely long, thick hair was genetic in the men of his family, and it was almost against tradition to cut it. Jazz said he should audition to do a shampoo commercial, that’s how shiny and luxurious his jet-black hair looked as it flowed gracefully down his back.

Wearing it out tonight could cause him to have more attention than he wanted, but he couldn’t resist it. He would hang out on the third level most of the evening, basking in the moonlight and enjoying the crisp, salty breeze whipping through his mane.

Angel pulled the deep burgundy drapes back that covered the ceiling-to-floor glass window overlooking the dance floor. It was just eight fifteen and the crowd was steadily growing, as the early birds took advantage of the happy hour Sam started two months ago for Thursday and Friday nights.

Angel knew it was going to be packed tonight. They’d done some heavy advertising for the holiday weekend. Each ad showcased the immaculate third level of the club, and he was anticipating a spectacular night. Angel wanted Blue Moon to be so popular that he could open another club at the other end of the strip by next year. There were hundreds of clubs and bars to compete with but Angel had definitely raised the ante with his sexy tri-level playground.

Jazz sauntered into his office wearing her familiar fishnet stockings, tight black miniskirt, and glittery, see-through blouse. Jazz was one of the first waitresses he had hired when he opened Blue Moon three years ago. Now she was both wait staff and floor manager. She’d been with him through all the heartache and stress. She was also his best friend and one of the few people he let do his hair. She put her thin arms around his neck and buried her nose in his long tresses. Angel’s hair always smelled of coconut and

cherry almonds from his special shampoo and conditioner, a product she specially ordered for him online.

“Sam is pitching his usual shit-fit already and it’s not even nine o’clock yet. You should really make him take a vacation after this weekend,” Jazz stated. She grabbed Angel’s boar’s-hair brush and began caressing the black silk from his crown all the way down to the ends with smooth, even strokes.

It made Angel’s dark lashes fall over his eyes as he enjoyed the lullaby Jazz’s rhythm made whenever she brushed his hair. He moaned softly.

She laughed and nudged Angel on his shoulder. “Hey, don’t climax yet, I just started.”

“Whatever,” he growled. “Just keep brushing.”

“Are you going to wear it out all night babe?”

“I might, but if too many people start hounding me about it I’ll find you and have you tie it back and braid it, okay?”

“Okay. Did you bring the leather ties?”

“Yep, they’re in my top desk drawer.”

“Cool, but I’m sure you will be finding me soon, because you know what your hair does to people.” She grinned at him slyly. “Gonna find some sweet thing to bury your cock in tonight Angel?”

He all but roared at her in his gruff voice. “I told you and Sam, I’m done with these young guys only wanting a quick spit-n-dick lay,” Angel huffed.

He muttered a quick apology for yelling at her before he continued in a more mellow tone. “I’m just getting real fucking bored with it, Jazzy. I am thirty-one years old, it’s time to grow up and do grown man things. I can’t keep stick—”

“What the hell are you talking about Angel?” she interrupted his rant.

“You are one of the most mature, grown-up men that I know. Not only are you all alpha-growly-hunky, but you are kind and loving too. You treat your staff like they’re golden…no…you treat us like family. You started your own business and stayed focused on it and didn’t stop until you made it into what you envisioned. If that doesn’t say ‘I’m doing grown-man-shit’ then I don’t know what does. But, babe, if you are done with the twinks, fine, go out and

find you a tough-as-nails SOB, and work his ass over Angel style.” She rapidly moved her hips back and forth simulating fucking an ass.

He let out a deep chuckle and swatted her on her petite bottom. His best friend always knew how to bring him out of his funk. Crazy as she may be, he thought she had a valid point. Angel was one hundred percent all man, maybe it was about time he found one for himself. Anyone who laid eyes on him was not the slightest bit confused on how dominating his personality was. His long hair only added to his mysterious dark persona, it did not make him look feminine in the least. You would never catch him flipping it around like some dense chick either. His bone-straight hair naturally swayed with masculinity…that was Angel’s swagger.

The night was in full swing by eleven as the DJ played all the latest hits.

People were packed on the dance floor like sardines, gyrating and grinding on whoever was closest. There were men dancing with other men, women dancing with other women, and hetero couples dancing everywhere. No one was feeling the least bit uncomfortable with their surroundings. The bar was fully stocked and the liquor flowed steadily.

Angel made his rounds regularly to touch base with his managers. He also periodically checked on his wait staff to make sure no one was mistreating them. He did his best to avoid the groping hands of men and women that tried to steal a quick feel of his ass or his hair as he weaved his way up to the front door. The line was still down the block. Angel checked in with one of the bouncers responsible for them not going over capacity.

“Where are we at on the count?” he asked Skip.

“Six hundred sixty-two and counting, boss,” the huge bouncer drawled out in his strong Alabama accent. His bald head was glistening under the bright club lights.

“All right, keep it flowing. If we get to nine hundred call me.” Angel’s club capacity was fifteen hundred, and it wasn’t farfetched that they would reach capacity tonight. He tapped his earpiece at Skip and turned back around. Everyone on staff had an earpiece, it was the only way of communicating with each other over the noise level. The state-of-the-art devices drowned out background noise and allowed them to have

conversations with each other as if they were on the telephone. If something were to happen he needed to be able to communicate with his security staff without a problem. His head of security was probably in his large office watching the twenty monitors that surveyed every inch of his club.

“Your hair sure is beautiful. I could see myself running my fingers through it.” Angel turned around slowly, responding to the deep sensual voice. The man’s Irish Spring scent wafted up his noise and re-routed straight to his cock before Angel could even focus his eyes on the man’s ruggedly handsome face. Angel’s dark eyes began to do their magic as he took in the man’s appearance from head to toe. The man raised one dark brow seductively.

The stud wore dark denim jeans over muscular thighs and a tight green Ralph Lauren Polo shirt. The shirt screamed, “I don’t fit you!” The muscles bulging out in every direction were making Angel’s mouth water as he imagined using his tongue to explore every ridge and crest.

Angel stepped easily into the man’s personal space and tilted his face toward the man’s neck so his lips could graze his ear, and growled, “What else do you want to touch, handsome?” Angel winced inside.
I’m not supposed
to go there, yet…fuck. But, damn he’s fine…and mature.
Angel didn’t pull back, he let his lips rest there for a couple of seconds.

The hunk of firm flesh didn’t shiver at the sound of Angel’s voice.

Interesting,
he thought.

Big and gorgeous moved one meaty hand up Angel’s back oh so lightly and whispered to him, “Why don’t we go some place a little more private, then I can show you better than I can tell you.” The man tilted his pelvis forward slightly, letting Angel know that he could give just as good as he could get.

“Now that is one manly-man you got there, boss…hell yes!” He heard Jazz’s voice break thorough his euphoria on his earpiece. He didn’t let it rattle him but, dammit, he was going to kill her as soon as he was finished.

Angel contemplated what he was doing. He was supposed to be dating first…not fucking first.
This man doesn’t look like a fuck-n-go type. He’l probably be

up for coffee later
, Angel reasoned with himself. “Take the stairs to the second floor and make a right. I’ll be there in a minute,” Angel commanded.

He grabbed Angel by his large biceps and hissed in his face. “Don’t make me wait too long.” He spun on his heels and headed in the direction of the stairs.

Angel wasn’t sure if that little display of control turned him on or not. He had to admit he was treading into new territory here. Angel made a beeline toward Jazz, knowing that she was still close by watching.

“Don’t you have something better to do than getting your rocks off watching me?” he questioned her, his lips quirking up a little on their own.

He tried to hide his excitement of what was to come as soon as he made it upstairs.

“Damn Angel, don’t be a spoil sport. I was just letting you know I thought the man was off-the-charts hot. Darn, the good-looking ones are always gay.” She pouted. “Don’t you think he looks like McSteamy from
Grey’s Anatomy
?” she asked as she fanned her face in exasperation. “You know, the one that played Mark Sloan—oh God! That man could fuck me ten ways to Sunday if he wished.”

Angel shook his head. “Go back to work slut. If anyone has an issue, tell Bass to handle it for me, okay? Give me about an hour and I’ll be bac—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know the drill,” she cut in. “Go and have a little fun.