Part 3 (2/2)
Yeah. He'd gone all out for this. Why not? Let them see what no guts, no glory was all about. Every single piercing he owned had been slotted into place, from eyebrows to nose to cheeks to chin to lip to ears, hoops and bars and studs, all s.h.i.+ning t.i.tanium polished up to a brilliant gleam. Niobium chains thin as a whisper linked several of the loops together, trailing across his face spider-web fas.h.i.+on. He'd gone heavy on the makeup, not only ringing his eyes with black liner, but adding some charcoal shadow and a coat of crimson lip gloss. His nails were painted black.
More, Bree hadn't bothered with a motorcycle jacket, so they all got a good, instant look at his see-through mesh s.h.i.+rt topping his tightest pair of black leather pants. High school vintage. What the h.e.l.l, he'd call it retro. Besides, they were two sizes too small -- and therefore, just right. Good, beat-up, steel-toed s.h.i.+t-kicker boots finished off the look. Bree grinned at them, knowing he'd gotten it right. Scared the bejeezus out of them and, if he read them right, caused a few b.o.n.e.rs to pop up.
He trained his gaze on the most prominent bulge. ”Collin,” he drawled. ”Didn't know you liked your meat tough.”
The businessman spluttered and coughed. ”You dare to --”
”Please. You know you want a piece of this.” Bree swaggered in close enough for his chest to brush Collin's in its immaculate yuppie-wear. He leered up a few inches. ”You man enough to take me on?”
”Bree, enough!” Simon b.u.t.ted in, looking shaken. No sign of life stirred in his shorts, unless the tailored pants were good for hiding more than a little desk-jockey spread.
Bree looked the lawyer over, deliberately acting bored. ”Yeah? What?”
”Please contain yourself. We are in public.”
”Not for long. Looks like I'm the last one here. Let's get moving.”
”Yes.” Simon straightened his tie. Holy h.e.l.l, he'd worn a f.u.c.king tie. ”We thought you weren't coming.”
”Miss this? Nah. I had a few offers, but I figured I'd check out the action here first.” No need to tell them his offers had involved ferrets and skinny, babbling nerds. It was impressions that counted, yeah?
Liam thumped his shoulder in approval. ”Excellent! I knew you would not let us down, Bree.” He pressed one ticket into Bree's hand. ”Here. No matter what, do not lose this, not even once you are inside. The enforcers do random checks for authorized guests, particularly on weekends.”
Huh. Bree studied it. Looked like a plain movie ticket to him, even if the color threatened to blind him. No name on it, just ”Admit One.” Well, whatever. First things first. He jerked his head at the growing line of studs and stallions. ”So, do we wait in line for a couple hours, or what?”
”Oh, no, no!” Liam shook his head. ”Come, all of you, follow me.” He pa.s.sed out the rest of the tickets in a neon blur, beamed at the Brotherhood, and took off like a hoppy, happy little bunny blissed out on speed. He bounded up a short flight of stairs and beamed at the surly bouncers, twice his weight and a good foot taller, beckoning them down to his level. He whispered in one set of ears, then another, and for some reason, pointed up above the doors. The bouncers looked startled, then respectful, and ... awed? They unhooked a barring rope and motioned Liam forward.
”Come on!” Liam called, making hurry-up gestures. ”Follow me!”
Down the f.u.c.king rabbit hole, man, Bree thought in admiration. Now this is more like it! Still, he kept his pace lazy as he followed, bringing up the rear of the pack ... and b.u.mping into them as they cleared the doors and stopped, en ma.s.se, in their tracks.
David whispered one word, audible above the thumpa-thumpa of the music. ”Wow.” Bree stared. ”Yeah.” Wow summed it up pretty d.a.m.n good.
Liam almost glowed. ”You see? Amour Magique is all that I promised, isn't it?”
”And then some.” Collin's voice sounded strangled. Simon spluttered a little, but, thank G.o.d, kept quiet.
Bree decided that he'd died and gone to h.o.m.o Heaven. Yeah, Amour Magique sure as h.e.l.l did live up to Liam's hype. A good old raw-boned warehouse on the inside, tangles of spotlights blasting circles on the floor, and crowds, literally crowds, of hot bodies and lithe, thras.h.i.+ng dancers. Men pumped their hips, f.u.c.king with their clothes on, all to the sounds of music that infected his blood with the beat but didn't bug like regular techno.
His mouth watered. Hot d.a.m.n. Even if James had cursed him, a place like this carried enough rainbow mojo to beat it down for one night, at least. He knew it.
”I see your wow and raise you a whoa,” Christian whispered, eyes huge.
Bree couldn't help himself. He tilted back his head and laughed out loud. ”You f.u.c.kin' amateurs! What, you've never been in a gay dance club before? Shee-yit, you wusses. Stand aside and let me show you how it's done.”
He sauntered forward, feeling all eyes on him -- in shock, amazement, or in Liam's case, absolute approval -- and flung himself into the dancers as if they were a mosh pit, letting himself be swallowed whole.
Oh, dear G.o.d. Yes. c.o.c.k-rockin' Elysium. The crowd parted like water to let Bree in, then closed around him. Hot, hard bodies slick with sweat pressed in, rubbing their chests against his. He felt himself grabbed by the waist and tugged backward against a solid, seriously well-sized c.o.c.k just barely trapped in a pair of jeans, thrusting forward to the rhythm of the drums. Bree laughed again, then lifted his voice and howled out that primal scream he'd been waiting on for months now.
He twisted around to face Mr. Well-Hung and planted a deep, wet, messy kiss on lips that opened sweet and obedient for him. The man's hands, good strong hands, flew down to grope Bree's a.s.s as if he were desperate for it. For Bree.
Oh, h.e.l.l yes. It was going to be a good night. He spared half a thought for the Brotherhood, who he was technically supposed to be hanging with, then mentally tossed them aside. They were big boys. Let them figure out how to have a good time for once. They could watch him if they wanted pointers. Tearing away from the kiss, Bree turned in a half-circle and found yet another desperately eager body to kiss. This time, he was the one to grab a handful of booty, his first in way too long, and hang on tight. A solid c.o.c.k bashed against his own, rising good and proper to the occasion.
He was going to buy Liam a dozen roses for this, and f.u.c.k the cheese. He owed the weird little guy. But that'd be later. Right now, he planned on having the time of his life!
Ditching his c.o.c.k of the moment, he turned again, almost dizzy with excitement, and blurred into the waiting arms of still another man. Mmm, good solid arms, bare to the shoulder. Leanly muscled. Smooth and white as marble. Strangely ... cold.
A bell went off somewhere in Bree's mind. Cold? Where had he felt ...
His dance partner pulled him closer than any had before, letting Bree feel just how very interested he was in finding a pierced, tattooed punk to play with. The strength in those arms said he wasn't going to let go anytime soon, not like the others. The way he thrust his hips and stiff c.o.c.k against Bree's pelvis let him know that this guy meant business. Rock-'em, sock-'em, hard-core f.u.c.king business.
A wisp of his long red hair fell across Bree's hands as he lifted them up to the man's shoulders. They were as cold as the rest of him.
Bree looked up in baffled wonder to meet a pair of familiar eyes, wise, all-knowing, blazing with bedroom heat. The kind of eyes that you knew belonged to a man who would best any o.r.g.a.s.m you'd ever had. Eyes that managed to send a shot of adrenaline to Bree's own c.o.c.k and a yearning ache to his a.s.s, even though he'd never bottomed enough to get a taste for it.
Eyes that somehow seemed to know Bree. Recognize him.
Claim Bree as his prize for the night.
Eyes that he recognized, not just from Money Now! but from that tripped-out vision flash in his apartment.
”Julian!” Bree blurted out.
Julian smiled down at him. He reached to brush his hand across Bree's cheek. ”So, we meet again. But then,” he said, leaning down to whisper in one ear, ”I did promise you we would.”
Chapter Four
Oh, no. No, no, no. I am not letting my night on the town turn into an episode of the Twilight Zone.
Bree jerked back -- or tried to, anyway. Julian had a good grip on him and appeared to be a good deal stronger than he looked. Bree settled for his best homicidal glare. ”You want to take your hands off me before you lose them?” he demanded.
Julian laughed. Bree knew he'd heard every word, even above the pounding music, but instead of being unnerved, he looked amused. He reached forward and brushed his fingers against Bree's cheek. ”So full of life,” he said. ”You overflow with vitality, Bree. Did no one ever tell you so?”
Bree felt a chill crawl over his skin. s.h.i.+t. Julian's touch creeped him out, sure, but d.a.m.n if it didn't also set his c.o.c.k to stirring, swelling into the start of a hard-on.
”You grow so angry, so quickly,” the red-haired man whispered. His cool fingers pressed into Bree's arms with almost, but not quite, enough force to leave a mark. One-f.u.c.king-hundred-percent at odds with his soft, chuckling tone. ”What darkness lies within, that your first reaction is violence?”
”So, you are threatening me.” Bree kept his voice level with an effort.
”Oh, no! Fear not, Bree. I mean you no harm. I only want to enjoy the dance.”
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