Heaven's Ballroom

by Aiden Bates

  Slowly, the kiss shifted into something more passionate as that reality sank in. I took his face in my hands, pulling away just enough that he could feel the softness of my lips. The pure, unadulterated need I felt for him just then. For always. Forever. His tongue slipped against mine, hot and wet and greedy. I took it, relished his taste and gave it back to him just as good as I got until we finally broke apart, chests heaving, his forehead resting against mine.

  “Let me take you home?” I asked, my fingers brushing through his dark gold hair then clasping around the base of his neck like I never wanted to let go. “We can give Rand our statements really quick, then—”

  Anders let out a little laugh, then nodded. “Yeah…yeah, I’d like that. It’d be nice to be back in my own bed right now, I think.”

  I smirked wickedly, feeling the adrenaline rushing through my veins shift into something hungrier than the violence with which I’d almost beaten his kidnapper’s face in—but no less animalistic. No less primal.

  Just, a different kind of need.

  “Actually,” I told him, diving in to kiss him again. “I was thinking that tonight, you might prefer mine.”

  We came together, just like that first night. Except this time, it wasn’t me crashing through Anders’ bedroom door. It was the both of us, limbs just as tangled as our tongues were, stripping each other of any clothing we could get our hands on and not giving a single damn about whether or not there was any collateral damage—loosed buttons, scuffed boots or otherwise. Even the painting hanging on my bedroom wall, a gift from my father, wound up crashing its way to the floor as I slammed Anders against it by his broad, square shoulders and pinned his body there with mine. I only had the mental capacity to give it a brief glance, ensuring it was unbroken, before I took him by the wrists and claimed his lips with mine again.

  “Blake,” Anders gasped, coming up from that kiss like a diver desperate for air before I took his strong, hard jawline in my hands and sent him under all over again. “Blake—Blake, please.”

  “Please what?” I growled, dipping my lips to his neck and scraping my teeth against his jugular. That please stirred something in me—and damned if it didn’t make my cock twitch like I’d just wrapped my fist around an electric fence.

  “Please,” he said again, firmer this time. “Can you be…gentle?”

  I pulled back, blinking at him in surprise. “Didn’t realize you liked gentle. Is it…?”

  “No,” Anders said with a shake of his head. “Not because of what happened today. I just…you’re so strong, Blake.” He gave a little laugh. “I think if you take me as hard as you want to right now, you just might break me completely.”

  “Mm. Don’t want to break you.” I ran my thumbs across his cheekbones, smoothing over the perfect flush of his skin. “At least, not unless you want me to.”

  “Oh, I want you to.” Another laugh. “But…not tonight. Tonight, I need…”

  “Mm. You need to be loved, sweetheart.” I moved forward slowly, brushing my lips against his again—this time with a firm sensuality, a passion just rough enough that he could tell how much I was holding back. That I had every ability to break him—just like I’d had every intent on punching that bastard Simmons’ head to a pulp.

  But in my time with Anders, he’d changed me. Shown me that I did have control over my body, my strength, the violence that had been marched into me back in my military days and had lingered around ever since. That I could do anything—be soft. Be rough. Be gentle or be vicious—because whatever I was, whatever I wanted to be, was what he needed me to give him. What he needed me to become.

  I moved him to the bed then, still caressing my lips against his with that hungry softness. Firm. Passionate. But with care.

  And just like that, I lost myself in him. Lust left me running hotter than a wood burning stove, but love kept me steady. Stable. Perfectly short of unhinged. I tasted Anders’ tongue in my mouth as his lips parted, both of us groaning with need as I lowered him to my mattress. The moment I settled my cock between his cheeks, parting them with my hands so I could rest the tip against his tight, already-soaked hole, those moans grew more urgent. More frantic.

  Anders’ hips bucked up beneath the fingers of one of my hands while the other reached around to cup his ass as I pressed into him. His thighs wrapped around my waist, pulling me into him with a hiss of pleasure until his ankles bounced against my back with every thrust, crossed behind me. Hard, slow stokes set the pace, our lips curling in animalistic passion. It was almost impossible to contain, but for Anders—for him, I would’ve done anything he wanted. Anything he asked.

  Anything at all.

  “Blake,” he breathed up at me, his eyes falling closed as his fingers pawed at my chest, trying to draw me nearer. “Blake…Blake, please…”

  I paused mid-thrust, my cock twitching demandingly as I denied it the joy of being buried as deep as it could go in Anders’ warmth and heat.

  “Slower still?” I asked, feeling my balls ache at the thought. I didn’t think I could go any slower—but for Anders, I would try.

  “No,” he said, leaving my cock leaping up inside him and his body writhing beneath me. “No—please, I can’t take it anymore. Harder. Faster. More.”

  I should’ve quipped something clever at him then, but instead, my cock only slammed deep into him, leaving my balls tensing against the firmness of his ass cheeks. Words were beyond me now. I couldn’t formed them even if I wanted to.

  Instead, I let out a hiss and let my hips move until they were a blur, pounding up into him the way both our bodies really needed.

  After all—Anders had asked for it. Wouldn’t have been gentlemanly to deny him, just because he changed his mind.

  I folded my body over his, breathing him in and getting harder, stiffer by the second at his scent. Not his cologne or his shampoo, but the scent of him. It was somehow more delicious than anything I’d ever smelled before—even better than last time. Like vanilla, jasmine, something musky and sweet and so addictive it left me growling wordlessly at him through my teeth.

  Another thrust brought me up to his mouth again, smoothing his hair back and meeting him eye to eye. I took him hard, fast, staring him down as I waited to watch the sensation of orgasm cross his face. I could have let loose in him the second I felt his ass clench up around my cock, tight as a vice. But it wasn’t my pleasure I was really building toward—especially not when I reached down to wrap his cock up in my fist. There were few sights in the world more gorgeous than watching Anders come, and I didn’t want to miss it. Didn’t want to spare him any lick of pleasure. His ass. His cock. I wanted his whole fucking body twitching beneath me, convulsing with white-hot intensity, and I wanted to watch every second. Wanted to watch it all.

  I just wished I had the breath to tell him so.

  Our moans bounced off the walls, creating an echo chamber in the dim afternoon light of my bedroom, all shadows and sin. But there wasn’t anything sinful about fucking Anders—not now. Not like this. Something had shifted between us since the rescue. Some realization of need that pulled us closer together, heart to heart. Skin on skin.

  He already felt like so much more than just a man. Just a boyfriend.

  He felt like he was already mine so thoroughly, I didn’t see why I shouldn’t haul him to the courthouse as soon as I was done with him, with his ass still pumped so full of my cum it was dripping down his thighs while we said our I dos.

  “Love you,” I breathed, finally forcing the words out. “Fucking love you, Anders.”

  I worked him over even harder then, stroking up faster along the shaft of his gorgeous, thick cock while I pumped down into his ass as fast as my hips would allow. With every thrust, he rose up to meet me, only to be pounded back down into the mattress again.

  “Oh, God—Blake!” he cried out, face straining as his orgasm inched closer and closer. “Blake, I love you too—I love you—I—”

  His orgasm crashed through him, catchin
g me up in the exquisite spasming of his whole body as he tightened and released, tightened and released. His cum exploded up onto my chest from his swollen, dark pink tip, splashing me with rope after rope of his seed. Groaning, moaning into his collarbone, I clung tight, even as Anders’ ass grabbed around me, sinking my stiff, aching cock into him as deep as it would go. His knees shook on either side of me, trembling violently.

  Then, my balls tensed up and it was my knees that were left trembling. I melted against him, my own cum pouring from my tip like a fountain as his ass wrung my cock for every last drop until I was only a puddle of a man. A collection of nerves firing as my mind went white as a flash-bang, then entirely blank.

  When I regained a sense of myself again, we were both shaking.

  Breaking.

  Broken.

  But his lips were on mine, and that was all I needed. All I ever could have asked for.

  He was mine, and I was his.

  We drifted in and out of consciousness in the afterglow that followed, making out with Anders’ cum smeared between our chests and my cock still buried deep in his ass. It could have been for minutes. Could have been hours. All sense of time was meaningless now—the important thing was, he was there. He was safe.

  He was with me—and if I had it my way, he would be for a long, long time.

  “Marry me,” I finally breathed against his lips.

  The proposal was met with a little laugh, stirring me from whatever sex-drunk place my mind had sunken into and leaving me staring down at him, trying to figure out what could possibly be so funny about becoming my husband—considering that I already knew damn well he was the love of my life.

  “I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier,” he said, fighting back the laughter until it receded into the glimmering of his gorgeous blue eyes. “You might, uh. Might have to do just that. Make an honest man out of me and all.”

  “Have to, huh?” I smirked, pressing another kiss down onto the smile on his lips. “And why’s that? Your mom gonna come at me with a shotgun or something? After I so valiantly saved your life?”

  “My mother wouldn’t know what to do with a shotgun even if she wanted to come after you with one,” he shot back at me. “I just, uh…I guess first, I should apologize. There was a reason I left the apartment without telling you this morning. A reason he was able to grab me like that.”

  I arched an eyebrow, withdrawing my cock from his ass with a groan and settling onto the bed next to him, my head propped up with my hand. “Yeah. Should’ve punished you for that. But okay, I’ll bite. If—” I took his hand in mine, running my thumb over his knuckles. “If after, you promise you’ll tell me whether you’re gonna be my husband or not. A simple yes or no would suffice.”

  “I’m pregnant, Blake,” Anders breathed gently, reaching up to run his fingers through my hair. It sent a shiver of pleasure running up and down my spine, so intense that my eyes closed gently, just relishing the moment as I took the sensation in.

  Then, my eyes shot open as my brain actually processed what he’d just said.

  “Pregnant?” I blurted out, another shiver shooting through me. A shiver of a different kind entirely. “You’re—but that thing in your arm—how could you—”

  “I was going out to buy a pregnancy test,” Anders admitted. “Didn’t want to tell you until I was sure.”

  “And? It was positive?”

  Anders laughed. “Didn’t get that far, actually. But…I’ve seen enough of the Omegas come in and out of the Ballroom in my time with babies on the way, Blake. There’s this tightness in my abs…” He took my hand, turned it over and pressed my palm to his belly—right over the place where my child was growing in his womb. “The morning sickness—I was getting that last night in spades. And your smell…” He moved his nose to my collarbone, breathing me in deeply. “God, you smell amazing. All I want is to breathe you in. Feel your arms around me. Be close to you. Keep you close to me.”

  I blinked down at him in sudden realization. “Wow. Fuck. Yeah—yeah, you smell especially good to me too. I thought it was…I dunno. Didn’t have a reason for it. Just want to keep breathing you in too, I guess.”

  “I can go buy a test now, if you want,” he offered. “Find out for sure.”

  “You don’t need to,” I said, half surprised at my own certainty on the matter. It all made so much sense now—Anders’ queasiness. The way he’d gone all irritable all of a sudden. The way he’d disappeared that morning before I even woke up. “I think I can feel it, too. You’re bound to me now. It’s like…it’s like I knew all along. Was just too idiot to realize what it meant.”

  “We’ll take a test in the morning,” he said sleepily, nuzzling against my neck. “Just to be sure.”

  “I’m already sure. But…yeah. If you like.” I smirked, laying a kiss on the crown of his head as he nestled in the crook of my neck. “You still didn’t answer my question, though.”

  “Please, Blake. Like you had to ask.” He pulled away to smile up at me. “You protected me. You saved my life. Saved our child’s life, for that matter. The answer is yes. It was always going to be yes.”

  And just like that, everything came together. Finally. Completely. In a way that I knew I’d never let myself lose—no matter who tried to take it from me.

  Anders was mine. His baby was mine. And I’d be damned if things wouldn’t stay that way for the rest of our lives.

  Epilogue

  Foster

  Two men walked into a bar.

  We walked in separately. We always did.

  The Ballroom was going wild, even by our usual standards for a Saturday night. Every table was filled to capacity from the VIP section all the way to the corner booths toward the back. Every barstool had an ass on it, be it Alpha, Omega, or otherwise. The bartenders were slinging up drinks like mad—virgin slippery nipples, sex on the beaches and screaming orgasms, without a single drop of liquor being poured from one end of the bar to the other.

  And the dancers…

  Well, the crowd would see them soon enough.

  Maybe it had something to do with the sudden hole that a certain hole-in-the-wall competitor had left in the market: the Backdoor, much like its owner’s relationship with the recently arrested CEO of Hayward Enterprises, had finally crashed and burned earlier that week. There was nothing more satisfying than seeing a bigwig creep like Hayward go down for tax fraud—except for, maybe, watching the Feds close up shop on the seedy Almega club he’d been using to funnel money through into his shh, don’t tell offshore accounts.

  Or maybe, I thought with a smirk—maybe it was the letters on the marquee outside, all blown up in lights. Hot and live! One night only! Heaven’s Ballroom presents…Baby Bump Burlesque!

  Our patrons would have to hand it to Noah and me—it was certainly something they couldn’t get anywhere else on Manhattan. Or on the rest of the planet, for that matter.

  At least, not until tonight.

  He was the dark-haired stranger. The mystery man hunched over the edge of the bar top. He nursed a glass of water—he wouldn’t be caught dead with a fruity drink, no matter how many umbrellas my barmen garnished it with. He said nothing, looked nowhere and wore black almost always. Black slacks, black shirt, black shoes. Could’ve been mistaken for a waiter if he’d had a tie roped around his neck instead of popping the first few buttons away from his collar instead. In anything else, he would have stood out too much. Drew too much attention to himself.

  Instead, like this, no one would recognize him here. Not really. Not unless they got a good look at his face—and in the low pre-show lighting, even the bartender could hardly do that. If they did, I knew he’d pull out his wallet and quietly slip them a hundred-dollar bill. A discreet tip for their discretion.

  And me—I was the playboy. The club owner. The star of the show—at least, until the stage lights came up and the real show began. I’d shaken the hands of nearly every patron who’d come in through the front doors that night
already. The Alphas who’d secretly been hoping to start families, only to realize their Omegas were too afraid of ruining their figures to go off the pill. The Omegas who’d been struggling to come to terms with their own changing, pregnant bodies—swelling ankles, stretch marks, elastic in the waistbands of their best suit pants and all. Even, to my amusement, few small groups of women who’d pulled me aside to let me know that they were there to support their dancer friends, their brothers-in-law—or just to let me know that they though the idea of pregnant Omegas working it up on stage to be, “Honestly, pretty fucking hot.”

  But no matter what, I knew I’d end up at his side by the end of the night.

  No matter what, he was always the one to take me home.

  Since we’d slapped a SOLD OUT sticker across the ticket booth and shut the doors for the show, half a dozen horny Alphas had already sidled up next to me, spewing their best pick-up lines ripped straight from the pages of Playguy. They were all always cut from the same cloth. Too slick. Too glib. Too full of themselves to realize that I didn’t have any interest in whether I had a little Irish in me? Maybe I’d like to? In another life, I might have entertained their advances. Coddled whatever idiot attempts they thought they could make to convince me to meet them in the alleyway out back or in the passenger seat of their racing-striped sports car. It had been fun, once upon a time, to try and make him sweat. Make him wonder.

  It never worked, of course. He was too confident for that. Too self-assured.

  But on that night, I didn’t feel like stroking stockbroker egos. Laughing at jokes I didn’t find funny just to amuse myself or anyone else. To pass the time. Ever since one of Malcolm Hayward’s men had nearly kidnapped my best dancer and one of my bouncers had nearly beaten that man to death for his trouble, I’d been done with all of that.