Delicious Sinn

by Adrianna Dane

  Fuck me, beat me, you’ll never keep me. A strong bass and gut-pounding drumbeat pulsed and throbbed through the nightclub igniting the dancers.

  The blond surged forward and cupped a hand around the nape of his dance partner, yanked him forward and ground his mouth against his partner's lips. The shorter, younger man was engulfed by the more assertive, tall blond. A thin reed blown, claimed, and tossed about by the fierce tornado; it gobbled him up with little compassion. Lust - dance lust - blood lust. Crushing force. The music screamed, it jarred, it incited.

  No way to break me, no way to destroy me. It’ll be me killing you first.

  Blinding yellow and red lights strobed across the dancers. Will remained intrigued by the potent foreplay occurring on the dance floor. The smaller man with the straggly purple and black hair was no match for the more dominant blond. The younger man easily gave way beneath the dynamic dark energy of the rocker. Will surmised there was no way for him not to break beneath the driving onslaught. The possession would be fast and it would be final.

  This story is a work of original fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  This book, although available for free download and to read through the Love Is Always Write event, remains the copyrighted property of the author. You may share it with others, download a free copy, or read it at the Goodreads site

  Permission is granted to reproduce, copy and distribute this book for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

  Copyright ©2012 by Adrianna Dane

  Cover Art © 2012 T.A. Gallup

  Although this version is somewhat altered from the original, this story was originally conceived and written as part of the Goodreads M/M Romance group (www.goodreads.com) 2012 Love Is Always Write event. The story was inspired by a photograph and short narrative request. Find out more by visiting the Goodreads M/M Romance Group and follow the Love Is Always Write thread.

  .

  CAUTION: This story contains explicit M/M sexual situations, BDSM scenes, and strong language. You must be over the age of 18 years of age to read this story.

  Delicious Sinn

  By Adrianna Dane

  Dream Romantic Unlimited, LLC

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Author Bio

  Networking Links

  CHAPTER ONE

  Will took another sip of his beer, leaned against the bar, and watched the dancers gyrating on the dance floor. His sights were fixed to the tall blond with the wild, naturally curly hair, more wave than tight curl. There was an intensity about him. His black T-shirt, darkened and drenched with sweat, clung to his tightly-packed chest. Black leather pants settled close to lean hips, hugged his richly-muscled thighs, enhancing every nuance of swivel, screw, and thrust. Every flex of his tight ass as he whirled on the dance floor, drew hungry, covetous eyes from more than one corner of the nightclub.

  Will was a patient man, perhaps more so than most. He'd waited this long, a few more hours wouldn’t hurt. The cold draft soothed his parched throat. His gaze circled the club, studied the occupants, then returned to the dance floor. Laced leather thongs encircled the rocker’s bulging biceps, slender whips of leather trailed free lashing, swinging with the heavy metal rhythm. A grin crossed the blond’s features as a Medusa’s Thorn tune blasted through the room; the blond’s voice–as lead vocalist screamed the lyrics. Sinn Midnite, up and coming rhythm guitarist, lead singer, songwriter.

  Fuck me, beat me, you’ll never keep me. A strong bass and gut-pounding drumbeat pulsed and throbbed through the nightclub igniting the dancers.

  The blond surged forward and cupped a hand around the nape of his dance partner, yanked him forward and ground his mouth against his partner's lips. The shorter, younger man was engulfed by the more assertive, tall blond. A thin reed blown, claimed, and tossed about by the fierce tornado; it gobbled him up with little compassion. Lust - dance lust - blood lust. Crushing force. The music screamed, it jarred, it incited.

  No way to break me, no way to destroy me. It’ll be me killing you first.

  Blinding yellow and red lights strobed across the dancers. Will remained intrigued by the potent foreplay occurring on the dance floor. The smaller man with the straggly purple and black hair was no match for the more dominant blond. The younger man easily gave way beneath the dynamic dark energy of the rocker. Will surmised there was no way for him not to break beneath the driving onslaught. The possession would be fast and it would be final.

  The blond knew exactly how to play him. Or would have, if he hadn't lacked self-control. On stage, Sinn’s angry forceful immersion into music worked for him. Here, that very same passion worked against him. An instrumental genius, most certainly. But here, with this instrument in his hand–this instrument of opportunity required a steadier hand than his–a very different sort of skill.

  The blond cupped his prey's ass, drew him up close until groins and rigid, clothed cocks ground together. It was apparently too much for the younger man. Too much excitement, too much rubbing, too much handling. His eyes rolled back. Will saw it, expected it.

  The man shuddered as he came; then sagged against the blond. Frustration was evident on the blond's face. Disappointment. Aggravation. Too fast, too easy. He shoved the man away. Still recovering from the throes of his orgasm, the man stumbled back, trying to catch himself before falling to the floor and being trampled by the other dancers. Already forgotten, the blond spun away, the man of no further concern to him, already used up, as he sought out other, more challenging quarry amongst the club-goers.

  Sin wore his sexual intensity well. He exuded an irresistible animal charisma that was difficult to ignore. Of course, his notoriety didn’t hurt anything either. Arising onto the Seattle rock scene seemingly out of nowhere, with the wild looks and predatory nature of a panther, the voice of a seductive exiled angel, and the rowdy demeanor of Satan’s spawn, he’d easily garnered attention and had quickly earned himself a rabid following.

  Finally, he strolled off the dance floor toward a black cocktail table where he picked up and drained a glass of beer. A waiter brought another as though magically summoned and set down the full glass to replace the empty.

  Another man, black ponytail, dressed in black jeans and ripped white T-shirt strolled up to the table. He stopped and with easy familiarity he stroked a big tattooed hand across Sinn's leather-encased ass. Sinn turned toward him; they exchanged a few words. He drew close to the man, then lunged like a rattler and bit his ear. The man jumped back, a hand raised to the wounded lobe. Sinn grinned darkly, then licked the blood droplets from his lips. The other man scowled and then stormed away, still cupping his ear.

  Sinn picked up the full glass and drained it. He wiped his glistening lips with his bare golden forearm. The laces of the leather thong swayed with his movement. He reared his head, narrowed his gaze, again ready for the hunt he tracked around the darkened recesses of the crowded room. Searching, trolling, assessing. A measure of boredom shaded his expression. To Will it seemed the actions of a desperate man. He looked for a challenge not really expecting to f
ind one–perhaps not even knowing what would really satisfy him. Perhaps a prince–a dark one–looking for the perfect boot to thrust his princely foot into.

  Will's instincts, that of the patient hunter, knew it wouldn't be long—not long now. Tonight–it would be tonight. It was like a 2x4 slamming into his chest when Sinn's searching gaze landed on him. And lingered. An odd look crossed his features, a tension building in him as he straightened away from his table, peering fixedly across the length of the room.

  Will didn't move a muscle. He felt that gaze burn into him, raze across his face, down his chest, centering on the bulge stuffed behind the zipper on his blue denims. Seared down over his thighs, to his booted feet, and then slowly retracing the path back up Will's body, to linger on his face. The connection was more intense than anything Will had ever felt before. But then he shouldn't be surprised. He'd expected it. Known how it would be. Thought he'd be ready for it.

  He rested more fully back against the bar, thrusting his hips, knowing the outline of his erection riding just behind the zipper was no small enticement. It took every last ounce of determination to glance away from the blond, to circuit the room, to again lift the glass to his mouth, tilt his head back, exposing his throat, and drain the last of the beer from his glass.

  A good hunter knew enough not to spook his quarry. And Will came from a long line of some of the most skilled huntsmen and trackers there were. His father was paid a great deal of money for that very skill. Finally, Will set the glass down on the bar, and slowly he returned his attention back to Sinn. His heart plummeted–the blond was gone. Had Will overplayed his hand?

  "So, young thing, are you here with someone, or are you looking for a daddy to play with?"

  Will tensed; leisurely he turned toward the voice. His heart hammered in his chest.

  Keep it cool, do not overplay this. The man thinks he knows what he wants, but you know what he needs. Don't let him herd you down the wrong road.

  Will tried to listen to the cautionary words inside his head.

  Slowly he swiveled around to look at Sinn. He straightened away from the bar. Taller than some might have thought when he drew himself up to his full measure of height of 6'3".

  He stared down into Sinn's gray eyes, a half smile on his lips as he gazed at the older man. Will was maybe an inch taller than the blond–a good fit. Just enough–close enough–for the power play he was about to engage in. He arched a black brow, slipped his thumbs behind his leather belt, took up a languid stance as he stared at the blond.

  "You offering to be my daddy tonight?" He used his best cowboy western drawl.

  Sinn’s silvery eyes flared as he met his look. Will saw just the slightest flicker of uncertainty in the gaze. Good.

  This close Will noticed the lines of age etched into the rocker's lean, wolfish face. His years of hard living and dissipation had given the man a bit of dissolute edge and weariness to his demeanor. He looked even older than the 33 years Will knew him to be.

  "Looking for someone who wants to party," Sinn said. "Thought you might be up for it." He shrugged, then glanced around the nightclub. "Lots of others I can find if you're not interest, boy."

  Boy. Will hadn't been called that for a few years now. Nope. He'd paid his dues and though some might consider him young at 25; he didn't feel so very young. Living on a ranch didn't leave room for leisurely growing up even in the 21st century. For this man, this moment, he'd made a point of maturing quickly and getting the experience he knew he was going to need.

  He tilted his head, lightly stroked his fingers over the smooth leather of his belt. "From what I've seen, you're not having much luck in finding a playmate."

  "You've been watching me?" Sinn said in a soft, rather menacing tone.

  Will turned to survey the dance floor. "No more than anyone else. I'm particular on who I choose to...dance with."

  Sinn narrowed his gaze as he scrutinized Will. His stance altered to one of caution, and interest.

  "You're not so fresh-faced as you look, are you?"

  Will met the look head-on. "Fresh enough," he responded.

  Sinn took a step back. His expression turned guarded, but Will sensed interest. "Hmm. You seem familiar somehow, but then again, maybe not. You're not like the others I've met here."

  "Nope, I'm not." Will slowly pulled his hands free of his belt and swung away from the bar. He turned toward the dance floor, then glanced over his shoulder at Sinn.

  "Let's dance. Then we'll see how compatible we are." He sauntered toward the dance floor and didn't look back again. A small smile played around his lips. Tables turned nicely. He had Sinn Midnite right exactly where he wanted him. Focused on his ass and nowhere else. Soon... soon he'd have him on his knees and begging.

  * * *

  To say Sinn was confused might be an understatement. To say he was aroused by the casual sexuality of the younger man would also be an understatement. He'd come to the club to get down for some raunchy sex after the show he and the rest of the members of his band, Medusa's Thorn, had just finished at another club. He'd learned this was the only way that came close to being satisfactory in order to dull the edge he maintained after a performance. Trolling the clubs had started to hold less and less enjoyment and more routine, and a certain ennui had set in. But somehow tonight felt different and he couldn't exactly put his finger on the reason for his heightened excitement about this stranger - not just yet.

  Medusa’s Thorn had only just returned to Seattle three days ago and he was still hyped up from the tour in New Mexico. They were all jazzed, which is why they'd jammed at one of the smaller bars earlier in the evening. The New Mexico trip had been worthwhile, even though the van had broken down twice. Still, they'd been well received at the round of clubs. Nothing like the last tour of the worst roadhouses in Texas.

  He looked at the young thing he was hoping to pick up. No, that wasn't quite right, and he wasn't certain how it had happened, but instead of leading, he was now following that gorgeous ass out onto the dance floor. He was the one who usually led; how the hell did he end up in this position? For some reason, at the moment, it didn't matter. He was intrigued enough to follow. That hadn’t happened often of late.

  There was something different about him. Very different. And yet, in some way vaguely familiar. He was more sophisticated than Sinn's usual sort. And, yet, more down to earth. The usual guys he picked up tended to be hanger's on and groupies who followed the band. This guy was not that sort of all. In fact, he seemed really out of place in a nightclub like this, in the middle of Seattle. He belonged...outside...the rugged, cowboy sort. Yet more together than the ones Sinn had grown up with in eastern Montana.

  This guy really was bigger than life.

  Sinn’s inner turmoil drifted away as he watched the younger man step onto the edge of the dance floor, stood and waited for Sinn to join him as though he didn't have another care in the world. And in fact, he looked slightly remote. Sinn was definitely intrigued. He'd never been in quite this situation before. There was that danger element to it that he found irresistible.

  It was very late, near closing time, and the music changed to something slow and sensual. Sinn didn't do slow–he never slow danced. He never turned the volume down on his life–not once since he left eastern Montana. He kept the volume loud because it drowned out the past. He’d only notched it higher after his time in L.A. For him it was about survival.

  The young man held out his hand. Long arms, big hands, thick fingers. He held his hand low just about his ass, an invitation to Sinn. Both the hand and the ass.

  This was the moment–Sinn could either walk away or join the intriguing stranger on the dance floor. Something told Sinn he might be young, but he was definitely not inexperienced. He took a deep breath and then strode around in front of the younger man, ignoring his hand.

  "Do you know who I am?" he asked belligerently.

  The younger man just stared at him silently, waiting. It was a heavy hooded look; it w
as an intensely sexual look. It made Sinn's blood burn. The intentions, or lack of it perhaps made Sinn feel uncomfortable, ill-at-ease. He wanted this man to notice him, to want Sinn. As badly as Sinn wanted him. And strangely he had never wanted a man to want him more. He tried to shake himself free of the enthrallment, for that's the only word he could attach to his current state of mind.

  He drew himself up. "I'm Sinn Midnite." He jammed his thumb into his chest. “Lead guitarist for Medusa's Thorn. We're one of the hottest rock bands in this city right now. Who the hell do you think you are treating me like a lap dog? I'm nobody's dog. Boy."

  It should have worked. That power struggle, he felt it like an undertow, dragging at him. The balance should have shifted. Well, it had shifted all right, but not in quite the way Sinn had anticipated. The younger man's oddly powerful aura swelled stronger, instead of diminishing. Sinn felt the man sucking his energy, reeling him in like a hooked fish. Quite the experienced fisherman. Too experienced.

  The man reached out and took his time in untying the long leather thong from around Sinn's right bicep. He drew it off, tangled it around both his big sun-browned fists. Then he glanced at Sinn. A lazy, languorous look.

  "My name is Will. I'm not looking for a daddy tonight."

  Sinn’s voice stuck in his throat. He watched as Will played with the throng, wrapping and tugging it tighter and tighter. Sinn's cock surged, he got so hard thinking about that thong, the man, and curiosity as to what he meant to do with the leather.

  Sinn licked his lips. "What are you looking for?” he asked. But something told him he already knew. This wasn't just any young man lounging around a bar, trolling for a good lay. This man was a skilled hunter, more so a hunter than Sinn had ever been or ever would be. And Sinn was trapped in his sights. This was a man he had to know about or he'd never forgive himself, and his memory and the what-might-have-beens would hound him just like Bobby's memory haunted him. He couldn't stand another one of those memories riding his back. "What do you want?" He waited, complacent as a dog awaiting its master's order.