Andy’s stomach muscles twitched, almost as if Jon was touching him instead of just looking. “Are you a native?” Andy asked, and Jon lifted his eyes back up to meet the other man’s gaze.
“Pennsylvania,” he said. “Little town no one’s ever heard of. Came here after college and started doing auditions.”
“How long have you been acting?”
Jon wasn’t sure when this had become about him, but he went with it. “Since I was a kid,” he said. “I did a summer camp when I was eight that had acting as part of it. I liked it, so I kept doing it, and I turned out to be pretty good at it.” He gave a small shrug. “I still like it, although it’s not as much fun when you’re spending most of your time running around trying to find a job.”
Andy’s head fell back as he laughed, a full, rich sound that filled the room with warmth. Jon was captivated by the pure joy on his face. “Oh man, you aren’t kidding,” Andy said, still grinning broadly. “I know it’s a running joke in the city—‘aspiring actor’ is another word for ‘waiter.’ One thing I can figure pretty quickly is that this sure as hell beats waiting tables.”
Jon had to laugh too. “I tried it,” he said. “Lasted almost a year. I just couldn’t manage to keep a straight face without getting sarcastic with the customers. The manager didn’t think much of that, so we eventually came to a mutual decision to part ways.”
The time flew by as they talked, until Andy glanced toward the door. Jon followed his gaze and noticed the small clock on the wall. “Ten more minutes,” Andy said, looking back at Jon. “I’m honestly enjoying just talking. It’s not often you find someone who wants to have an actual conversation in a place like this. But you did pay for a dance.”
“Yeah,” Jon said. “But that’s not what I wanted.”
He ran his gaze slowly down the length of Andy’s body again and then back up, pausing for just a second as he noted a slight bulge on the right side of his zipper. That was interesting. Maybe Andy really was enjoying their conversation as much as Jon was.
“So I’m going to ask you something, and feel free to tell me to piss off,” Jon said, returning his gaze to Andy’s. “I don’t think it’s against club rules, and it’s definitely nothing illegal. I’m not going to offer to pay you for anything outside the club.”
Andy looked wary but nodded slowly. Jon took a deep breath and took the leap.
“I want you to come home with me.”
BLAKE SAW the bouncer shift on his feet at that. “Uh, that’s not—”
Jonathan held up a hand. “Let me finish, please.” Blake hesitated, then nodded. “Like I said, I’m not talking about anything illegal or unethical or, as far as I know, against club rules. I’m saying that I like you, and I’m attracted to you, and I’m only doing the same thing I’d do if we’d both been sitting in the bar tonight, instead of one at the bar and one on the stage.”
Blake didn’t know what to say. He’d had customers proposition him before, but every one of them had either been grotesquely graphic or proposed something highly illegal, or both, and been thrown out immediately and banned from the premises. This was the first time he’d been presented with something that sounded reasonable.
“I know it’s not kosher.” Jonathan was still talking. Actually, he seemed to be talking faster, Blake noted. “I know it’s crazy, and I shouldn’t even be saying it, but I couldn’t really stop myself. I don’t have any expectation that you’d actually agree, and if this is too much, then maybe we could just get coffee sometime or something and try doing things that way instead. But I just feel like—”
Blake couldn’t help it; he started laughing. “I’m afraid you’re losing cool points by the second,” he said through his chuckles. “Maybe you should stop talking now.”
Jonathan paused, his mouth still open as if he was going to keep talking anyway, but then he blushed and grinned. Blake found it entirely adorable. “Yeah, I guess I went a little off script there,” he said. His smile fell away. “But I’m serious about what I said. I want you to come home with me. Or go to a hotel, if you’d rather stick with something neutral. Hell, you can have the bouncer frisk me first if you want.”
He fell silent again, and Blake studied him. Yes, it was stupid. Yes, he should decline politely, collect his tip, and send Jonathan on his way. But he also couldn’t deny that there was something there, some connection he couldn’t define but couldn’t ignore. Didn’t want to ignore.
And hell, it was Valentine’s Day. What better excuse to take a chance with someone?
He blew out a breath. “Club rules,” he said, careful of his words. “No making dates on the clock. With customers or otherwise.” He paused and softly added, “I’m off at midnight.”
Jonathan grinned and nodded, and Blake knew he’d gotten the message. Blake made a show of checking the small clock over the door. “Thirty minutes,” he said in a more normal voice. “Thanks for the time.”
Jonathan smiled. “Thanks for the ‘dance.’”
JON WASN’T at all sure what would happen when he returned to the club at midnight. He was surprised to find he was actually nervous. He’d thought asking the question would’ve been the hardest part, but now that he had a tentative yes, he had to follow through. He hadn’t had a one-night stand since college, hadn’t had a bar pickup or the equivalent in over two years, hadn’t had sex in six months. Out of practice was just the tip of the iceberg.
Some of his nerves, he knew, stemmed from the fact that he genuinely liked Andy. Yes, he was a near perfect physical specimen, but he’d been funny and open and warm, and Jon felt a connection between them that, from the other man’s reactions, seemed to be mutual. He might be planning as if for a single night of physical pleasure, but a not insignificant part of him couldn’t help hoping there might be a chance for something more.
He made the necessary arrangements and took a few minutes to steady himself before heading back to Masque. The bouncer at the door—wearing a glittery pink mask that nearly sent Jon into a fit of nervous giggles—gave him a long look as he checked his ID. He wasn’t the same bouncer from the private dance session, and Jon wondered from his scrutiny if word of his proposition had spread through the club and he’d be denied entry. The man handed back his license and waved him in, though, so apparently nothing was too wrong.
When he got inside, Andy was on the stage. His thong was red instead of black this time, the song slower and more sultry, and Jon was even more turned on than he had been the first time around. By the time Andy was off the stage, Jon felt both more nervous about what might happen between them and more determined to see it through.
He waited at the end of the bar, on the stool nearest the door, watching as Andy worked the floor, collecting his last round of tips. He didn’t look Jon’s way before heading backstage, but he reemerged in only a few minutes, mask gone, dressed casually in sneakers and a T-shirt over jeans and slipping on a black leather coat. He caught Jon’s eye from a few yards away and smirked, nodding toward the door. Jon nodded in reply, pulling on his own coat as he walked outside to wait, then wrapping his scarf around his neck and pulling on his gloves. It was warm for New York in mid-February but still pretty chilly.
Andy emerged barely a minute later, walked up close, and stopped just a foot away. Jon’s head tilted up to hold Andy’s gaze. He was taller than Jon had realized, with at least three inches on Jon’s six-foot frame.
“Hey,” Andy said, husky and low. “You came back.”
“Yeah.” Jon knew his voice was rough already but didn’t really care. “Glad I did?”
Andy hesitated for just a moment before smiling, slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “I really am.”
Jon grinned at that. “Got a room,” he said. “If you’re still interested.”
Andy nodded, his eyes dark in the night. “Lead the way.”
THE HOTEL was only two blocks away, and neither spoke as they walked. They rode the elevator up just as silently, but their eyes carried on an intense conv
ersation as they stared at each other, leaning against opposite walls.
They were in the room with the door bolted behind them before Blake felt nervous again. “Look, I know it’s a cliché to say it, but this isn’t something I normally do,” he said as he took off his coat. “In fact, I’ve never gone out with a customer, in any form. And I don’t sleep around.”
Jonathan shrugged off his own coat before tossing it over the back of a chair. “Yeah, maybe it is a cliché, but I believe in being honest,” he said. “That means full disclosure before clothes come off.” He crossed his arms, leaning one hip against the wall near the bed. “So here’s mine. I’m clean, haven’t had sex in six months, haven’t had a one-night stand in years. Bought condoms and always use them. Open for pretty much anything you want, but no visible marks. The makeup people hate that.”
He smiled then. “Oh, and one more thing, and I understand this might be a deal breaker for you. I don’t sleep with anyone unless I know their name. I’ll even start. Jonathan really is my name, but I go by Jon. Jon Harrison.” He lowered his arms to his sides and stepped toward Blake. “So, Andy, any deep, dark secrets you want to reveal?”
Blake grinned at the teasing note in Jon’s voice. “None,” he said, watching as Jon came closer. “Pretty much the same as you. Never had sex without a condom. Tested two months ago and came up clean across the board. Haven’t had sex in about four months, with my ex-girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend, huh?” Jon stopped just in front of him and raised an eyebrow. “Not gay, then?”
Blake tilted his head. “Not straight, either. I just like what I like. Why bother defining it?”
Jon lifted one hand, running it up the side of Blake’s neck and into his hair. “So, do I get that name, then?”
Blake smiled, sliding his hands around Jon’s waist. “It’s Blake,” he said, leaning down until their lips almost met. “Blake O’Leary.”
Then there was no more talking for a while.
JON KNEW Blake was hot the first time he saw him. He knew he could move when he saw him dance. He knew he was genuine and warm when he talked to him. He could certainly combine all that in his mind and conclude that he’d likely know how to handle himself in bed.
None of that could have prepared him for the perfection of a Blake O’Leary kiss.
His lips were soft, firm, and persuasive, coaxing Jon’s mouth open so his tongue could go exploring. His teeth gripped Jon’s lips gently, tugging and nibbling, bringing every nerve ending to full attention. His hands moved to Jon’s head, holding his face, turning him in small movements to find new angles. Jon couldn’t do anything but hold on to Blake’s shoulders and try to follow without his knees buckling.
He also tried desperately not to think about how that mouth would feel on his already rock-hard cock.
Blake eventually pulled away from Jon’s mouth and slid his lips across Jon’s jaw toward his ear. “So, Mr. Harrison,” he breathed. “Do you have any preferences, or does anything really go?”
Jon managed to chuckle. “Hell, right now you could kiss me like that all night, and I’d be fine with it,” he said, running one hand under the back of Blake’s shirt. “But what I’d really love to do is suck your dick until you come down my throat and then fuck you into the mattress until you come again. Preferably screaming.”
“Shit.” Blake kissed Jon again, hard, and was panting when he drew back. “I am perfectly fine with every bit of that.”
“Good.” Jon took his turn kissing Blake, wrapping his hand around the back of Blake’s head to hold him in place while he did some exploring of his own. He particularly liked running his tongue over the sharp points of Blake’s eyeteeth. Maybe he’d need to develop some vampire fantasies for when Halloween came along.
He started walking them toward the bed as they kissed, and Blake took the cue, putting his hands to work getting their clothes loosened. By the time they reached the bed, their shirts were gone, their jeans unbuttoned, and they’d both toed off their shoes along the way.
Jon wrapped his arms around Blake’s bare biceps and turned until Blake’s back was to the bed. Then he gave a light shove, and Blake let himself fall back, landing on the mattress and bouncing slightly, his legs hanging off the edge. Jon bent over and gripped the pull of Blake’s jeans zipper between his teeth, drawing it down slowly over the growing bulge below the denim. Black cotton boxer briefs lay underneath, which Jon found much sexier than any thong Blake might wear onstage.
He mouthed his way up Blake’s cock over the material, listening to the soft moans emanating from above him. He’d always loved the way this felt, on his knees with another man’s pleasure in his complete control. He couldn’t understand why some people thought there was anything submissive about giving a blow job.
He pushed Blake’s jeans down as he moved his lips onto the skin just below Blake’s navel, sucking lightly, careful not to leave marks. Blake had to show even more skin than he did, so somehow he didn’t think that would be much appreciated. He continued licking and sucking as he pulled the denim down and off completely, then returned his attention to the one scrap of cloth that remained in his way.
Jon buried his nose into the soft fabric and inhaled deeply. Blake smelled heavenly. The soft scent of soap indicated that he’d showered after his last dance, but his skin still carried hints of the workouts he’d had that evening, a whiff of vanilla overlying his natural musk. Jon moved his head from side to side, rubbing against the hardness beneath the boxers, and he felt long fingers slide into his hair, not pushing or directing, just resting there, like Blake couldn’t stand not to touch him.
Jon liked that thought.
He reached up and slowly began to peel the underwear down, hearing Blake draw in a sharp breath as his cock sprang free from the elastic. Jon immediately lunged for it, flattened his tongue along the bottom, drew it slowly up to the tip, and flicked just below the head. Blake moaned and jerked like he’d touched a live wire. Smiling, Jon leaned back just long enough to strip the material away completely.
He paused again, running his gaze from the strong thighs on either side of Blake’s body up past the long, curving, reddened cock, across smooth stomach and chest flushing with arousal, and finally to Blake’s face. Blake was looking back down at him, long lashes framing eyes blown black with lust, mouth hanging open slightly as he panted.
“What do you want, Blake?” Jon didn’t need to ask, but he wanted to hear him say it.
Blake ran his tongue across his front teeth. “Suck my dick,” he ground out, and Jon obliged.
He was good at this, he knew. He didn’t really have a specific game plan, just cataloged the noises Blake made and stuck with the things that resulted in the best sounds. Blake really enjoyed it when Jon licked that spot on the underside just below the crown, and when he sucked in both balls and cupped them with his tongue. He didn’t want to pull off long enough to wet his fingers in his mouth or dig lube out of the bedside table, so he stayed on the outside, pressing and rubbing just behind Blake’s balls.
By the time Jon raised up and slid all the way down Blake’s cock, the head tagging the back of his relaxed throat, Blake was trembling and incoherent. About fifteen seconds of deep throating was all he could take before he shouted and spilled, Jon drinking down every drop and soothing him through the aftershocks.
Jon sat back on his heels and smiled, licking his lips as he surveyed the boneless man stretched out across the mattress above him. Now, that was a blow job well done.
BLAKE LAY still, trying to gather his scattered brain cells. Holy shit, that was the best blow job he’d ever had. He wanted to tell Jon that, but his verbal processing centers were still offline.
Jon slid onto the bed next to him, naked now, and Blake turned his head that way, managing a small smile.
“Hey,” Jon said, grinning at him, self-satisfaction written all over his face.
Blake rolled his eyes. “Proud of yourself, are you?” he murmured. He was pretty proud
of himself for regaining his ability to speak.
Jon laughed, openmouthed and free, looking so beautiful that Blake suddenly wanted to spend hours drawing him, painting him, sculpting him, anything to capture that moment of perfection so he could keep it forever. The thought caught him off guard and made him pull back mentally. It was just a great blow job, he reminded himself, not a lifetime commitment.
“Take a few minutes to recover,” Jon was saying. “I’ve been there, trust me. A little skill and a lot of enthusiasm go a really long way.” He laughed again. “Damn, do I ever love doing that. I think I’ve missed it more than the sex.”
Blake grinned then, relaxing again as Jon’s laughter warmed him all the way through. Whatever this might be, he decided he’d go with it.
“Yeah, I can get that,” he said. “Feels great to make someone else feel that good.” He loved it too. In fact, he’d really love to return the favor.
Energy surged back into him at the thought, and he rolled over, catching Jon by surprise as he pushed him back against the mattress. He didn’t waste time with preliminaries, giving Jon one long, searing, tongue-lashing kiss before diving down to take Jon’s cock into his mouth. Jon gasped and then groaned loudly, falling back against the mattress and grabbing Blake’s shoulders. “Oh fuck,” he groaned, and Blake smiled around Jon’s cock as he worked.
Blake knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long, not if he still wanted Jon to fuck him, and that’s what Jon had asked for in the first place. So he kept his mouth firm but gentle, kept his tongue moving, kept from applying too much pressure. When Jon finally tugged at his shoulders, he went willingly, moving back up to bring their mouths together again.
They kissed hungrily, bodies rubbing together, hands moving through hair and across skin. Blake reached for Jon’s hands, twining their fingers together, pressing their hands down onto the mattress on either side of Jon’s head. Jon moaned into their kiss, so Blake held that position, shifting his hips to line up their cocks, thrusting slowly. Jon’s legs fell open, and he bent his knees, planting his feet on the mattress and using the leverage to meet Blake’s thrusts.
Grand Adventures Page 29