Spoiled Perfection

by Gianni Holmes

  The party started at nine, and I arrived an hour later. Although I did believe fashionably late was a thing, and I couldn’t recall being on time for anything in my life, including my own delivery into the world, I had wanted to be early tonight. I wanted to know the exact second Callum stepped inside the club. I wanted to be the first person at his side before he caught anyone else’s attention.

  Upon arrival, I searched the club, scanning faces and walking the length of the dance floor, which wasn’t easy, given the various bodies already pressed together and gyrating on whatever was available. The place was packed with people from the university I attended to Instagram influencers who I had become friends with. Some I had met before, and others I had never spoken to, but all had been invited to celebrate my twenty-first birthday.

  Thankfully, it was easy enough to go around the club, chatting and laughing while watching the entrance. I didn’t dare get drunk and do something stupid, like miss his arrival. I kept the one glass of martini in my hand and would sip at it absentmindedly but never enough to need another.

  At some point, a group of my closest friends found me. I smiled in greeting until I saw Louis was with them. What the hell was he doing here? He’d been invited when we were still friends, but now that we barely spoke to each other, I’d never expected him to show up.

  Still, it was my birthday, and I wasn’t about to start a scene like a month ago when he’d ruined the Never Have I Ever game. I completely ignored him, hugging everyone else. If he could show up as if nothing was wrong between us, then I could also forget that he was here.

  “This party’s really lit!” Justin remarked, nodding to the beat of the music.

  “Thanks, man. I did try.”

  And trying meant I’d hired an event planner to take care of the whole thing. When Ashton Keyes turned twenty-one, everyone expected it to be a big thing. I’d given them exactly what they’d had in mind, and if everyone but me was enjoying themselves that was all fine.

  I was content to wait all night for Callum to show up. I didn’t even consider it a possibility that he didn’t come.

  Chapter Three

  Callum

  “What’s your name?”

  I stared at the bouncer, my name the farthest thing from my mind when I was mentally kicking myself in the ass for turning up to this ridiculous birthday party. I’d intended to stay away. I’d made sure of it, giving Phillip the evening off to spend with his family so I’d be in charge of locking up the coffee shop. I had even kept the doors opened half an hour beyond its usual time, convinced that I had nowhere to go afterward but my bed.

  My bed was in the apartment above the coffee shop and not on 112 Crescent Park, where the posh club Rumor was located. It hadn’t been hard to find the club, even though I had never been to this side of town before. It was notably different, classier, and more upscale than where Coffee Crave was. I had braced myself to what I would find, but the opulence was so very much in your face.

  “What’s your name?”

  The bouncer’s irritated holler pulled me out of my thoughts, and I showed him the invitation Ashton had given me. “The name’s Callum Davidson.”

  He frowned at the invitation, then back at me. “You sure you’re in the right place? Where did you get this invitation?”

  “Ashton invited me.” It irritated me to no end that I had to stand there, explaining myself to a bouncer. If I had stayed home, where I belonged, none of this would be happening.

  He chuckled, stroking his chin as he eyed me up and down. I’d thought it best to do away with my apron and wear something more appropriate for clubbing. I’d still avoided my newest pair of jeans, instead opting for those threaded at the knees. The washout color, though stylish, was au naturel.

  “Hell, you’re just his type,” the huge boulder before me decided aloud before stepping aside and waving me ahead. “Good luck! Maybe he’ll pick you out of all the other men lining up for a shot to take him home tonight. That Ashton Keyes is a hot piece of ass. Too bad.”

  I paused and frowned at him, curious by what he meant. “Too bad what?”

  “That boy’s more trouble than he’s worth. Without his brother to keep him in check, he’s just about turned wild. He’s nothing but trouble with a mouth on him that needs to be put to good news, if you know what I mean.”

  I did know exactly what he meant. It wasn’t as if I never contemplated the same thing. Wasn’t that the reason I’d stayed away from Ashton all these weeks? He wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t already guessed about the boy, but hearing the words sorely tempted me to start a quarrel with the bouncer. To wipe the smirk off his face as he thought about Ashton.

  Just like old times.

  But this was different, and I knew better. No fists involved this time. No harsh words exchanged. Definitely no boy of mine with a tarnished reputation that I needed to defend.

  “Just another night out on the town,” I lied under my breath as I stepped inside the club, following the movement of people ahead. It felt as if the sharp swinging lights flashing in various colors sucked me in from the darkness. I located the bar and made a beehive for it.

  In disbelief, I looked around the club. There was no way Ashton could know all these people. I’d have thought it was a regular night at the club. Instead a neon sign just above the DJ’s head spelled out that this event was Ashton Keyes’s twenty-first birthday celebration.

  “Can I have a whiskey sour?” I ordered from the bartender, a bright-eyed guy wearing a vest over his otherwise naked torso. The same glitter on his face adorned his nipples, and I frowned. Didn’t that stuff get into the drinks?

  When he passed me my drink, I peered into my glass . Not a speck. The glitter must have been superglued onto his body.

  “How much?” I asked, not intending to have more than one drink before I hit the road again. I wouldn’t go looking for Ashton, but the next time he popped up at the café, I’d be able to tell him that I had come but that I couldn’t find him.

  “Oh, the bar’s completely free,” the bartender answered.

  “It is? Really?”

  He nodded with a grin. “Crazy, right? But this party is being held by some filthy rich college kid with nothing better to spend his money on, so don’t feel guilty. He has more money than God, or so they say. Just call if you need anything, handsome, and I’ll be right here.”

  I turned away from the bartender and checked out the club again. I estimated over a hundred partygoers. The upper floor was crammed with people, and the downstairs didn’t fare any better. The dance floor was a crush of people who were intent on having a good time. The majority was closer to Ashton’s age than mine. What was I doing here?

  I wasn’t exactly sure what on the dance floor caught my eye, but suddenly he was there. Completely carried away by the music, Ashton swayed, his eyes closed, arms above his head, dancing in a sea of people who couldn’t compare to him.

  Oblivious to his surroundings, he was breathtaking. His teeth bit into his bottom lip, and his face mirrored a kaleidoscope of emotions that made me want to know what was going through his mind. He held a cup in his hand and, without breaking his concentration on the music, tipped the rim to his mouth. I watched his throat work as he drank greedily. My mouth watered for a taste of him. With the way he moved and how late I was to the party, he must have been dancing a while. He would taste salty, his skin smooth under my tongue.

  I just knew it.

  The lights shifted from his frame, and I lost sight of him. I rose to my feet, desperate to catch another glimpse of him. I hadn't gotten enough of staring at him yet. Then the light returned to him, and I sank back onto the bar stool with a sigh of relief.

  This time a young guy his age danced behind Ashton, whose eyes widened in surprise at the contact. He glanced over his shoulder to his dance partner. The guy must have been someone he was familiar with because he just grinned and went back to his bump and grind with those hypnotic hi
ps.

  The crowd parted temporarily, and I saw him fully. I swallowed hard at his outfit. Denim short shorts graced his slender legs, hugged by fishnet stockings and boots. He was bare-chested except for a leather tuxedo shirt harness that clung to his torso. I was pleased he wasn't simply slender, although he was definitely that, but he was well toned, and his flat stomach carved out in the cutest abs.

  I lost track of time watching Ashton. Sometimes he’d disappear from my view, but it was never for long. Partners came and went, but he paid no attention to who danced with him. It appeared that none meant a thing but a good time on the dance floor..

  Whatever you don’t accept, I’m sure another man somewhere out there will appreciate. His words left a pungent taste in my mouth. Seeing him dancing with all these guys triggered a protective and territorial instinct I had long buried.

  Did I dare?

  Chapter Four

  Ashton

  After a night of having my body groped on the dance floor, the gentle hands resting on my hips were a not-so-unpleasant surprise. My ass had been kneaded, pinched, and slapped. My cock had been fondled, and once both happened at the same time when two guys sandwiched me between them for a dance. With Callum being a no-show, I found no reason to demonstrate restraint. I’d had every intention of being good and show him I knew how to behave, but it had been for nothing.

  The music and the strange hands on my body pulled me out of my feelings how hurt I was that Callum had blown me off. Again. A month of rejection from him. It was time I smelled the fucking coffee and admitted it was nothing but a bitter brew.

  I kept my back to my new dance partner, my eyes closed as I allowed the music to become an extension of me. I enjoyed dancing, loved having a good time, and damn Callum; he wasn’t going to take that away from me on my birthday. He didn’t care to spend my birthday with me, so I’d spend it with whomever I damn well pleased. He thought he could judge me? Well, he knew nothing about me.

  My dance partner’s hands slid over my waist and down to the tops of my thighs, settling me firmly back against him. I leaned into the touch eagerly, fascinated how gently his hands moved over me. Before, I had been groped for the couple of minutes I’d dance with someone. Yet this man touched me like we had all the time in the world and not just this song.

  He pulled me flush against his chest. I kept my eyes closed, gasping at the feel of his impressive cock digging into the tender flesh at my back just above the swell of my ass. I growled in frustration and pushed my ass back into him, wishing I was taller so we could align better. I wanted to feel the thickness of that cock rubbing against my ass. Just the thought had me groaning as I pictured the man behind me was the one I had been waiting for all night. The man who never showed.

  His lips brushed my ear. I wasn’t the only one affected by our closeness, judging by the heaviness of his breathing. I imagined the hotness of the air rushing from his lips and scrambling over the skin of my neck was all Callum. Daddy Callum.

  If only he’d let me be his boy. I would make the effort. I really would. I shook my head, as if chasing away thoughts of him at a crucial time like this.

  Lips touched the side of my neck, and I startled and opened my eyes. Dancing and rubbing up on me was one thing, but his lips on me was not what I wanted right now. I tried to pull away, but the stranger’s hands tightened on my hips.

  “I thought this was what you wanted,” he spoke directly in my ear.

  My heart took a flying leap at the familiar voice. He was here. He had come to my party after all, and better yet, he was dancing with me, touching me, seducing me.

  Instead of responding to Callum with words, I reached behind me and hooked an arm around his neck. His lips returned to the spot he had been trying to kiss when I pulled away. A shiver ran down my spine at the slow deliberate drag of his lips over my skin. His right hand came around my front and sprawled over my bare abs, stroking me.

  I was rock hard, and my bare nipples, which were already erect, ached. I couldn’t tell if he heard my moan, but he pressed his lips more directly to my skin, his tongue coming out to lick at my flesh. Greedily, I bared my neck to him by leaning back into his touch, all the while trying not to spill the drink in my hand. He didn’t just kiss my neck but trailed from my shoulder to my ear lobe.

  The music changed, people shifted on and off the dance floor around us, but Callum and I continued to dance and grind and kiss, happy to be in our own little bubble. The moment was too fragile…too precious for me to ruin.

  “Please,” I moaned, the sound too low for him to hear, but I hoped he’d be able to translate the desperate movement of my hips.

  Impatiently, I dropped my hand and reached between my thighs. I cupped my erection through the denim shorts. The dancers around us were so immersed in themselves they didn’t pay us any attention, and I took the liberty to stroke myself, frustrated when the sensation turned out to be not nearly enough.

  “Did I give you permission to touch yourself?”

  Callum spoke directly into my ear to be heard above the music. I whimpered at the authoritative tone in his voice, suspended between the urge to obey him or to ignore his warning, just to have him speak to me that way again. I could get off with him reprimanding me.

  “I’m so hard,” I cried out, turning to him. I sucked in a deep breath and drank in the sight of him, probably drooling, but I didn’t care. He had come, and that made this birthday so much more special than anything else could have. Somebody bumped into me from behind, and I stumbled forward. Callum caught me flush against his body.

  “Keep dancing!” he ordered, and I took that as an opportunity to wrap both my arms around his neck, giving him a small smile. His hand landed on the front of my shorts, touching me in the same way I had been touching myself. But he was more insistent, cupping my hard-on. I was so stunned I stopped moving.

  He removed his hand. “Keep dancing.”

  I snapped out of my daze, ignoring the rhythm as I danced for him and the music of desire. I was extremely grateful when he cupped my groin once more. So grateful I almost came from his hand touching my crotch. He cupped my balls and dick in a gentle but firm hold. He squeezed and released, stroking my length. It was damn near impossible to concentrate on dancing when he was driving me to my knees.

  “Don’t stop,” he said, the words not all audible, but I read them from his lips. “I’ve got you.”

  Tears sprung to my eyes, and I closed them. I didn’t want to freak him out. I’ve got you. How long have I waited for someone to say this to me after the hellish year I’d been through and the transformation of my life since the incident?

  I forgot about everything that wasn’t Callum and the way he made me feel. His hands worked on the button of my shorts, slipping it from the hole. The zipper went slowly down. I wasn’t wearing underwear, and he slipped inside my shorts and took my dick in his palm. His flesh burned mine from the intimacy of his touch.

  At the back of my mind, the thought popped up that we should move this somewhere else. Anyone who looked closely enough would be able to see what we were up to. I was clearly not dancing to the music anymore. The gyration of my hips and my thrusting were all about seeking relief from the vise that cupped around my cock.

  He pulled me forward until my head was to his shoulder. “No underwear?” he said into my ear. “I just knew you were a naughty boy. Were you hoping to be fucked by someone tonight?”

  I nodded against his shoulder shamelessly. I couldn’t speak. My throat constricted with emotions that came out in tiny grunts. His hand was doing deliciously heartstopping things to me. He stroked the entire length of my cock, never once quickening his pace but never easing the pressure of his hold either. Stroke after stroke, he drove me to the brink while my legs trembled until I leaned heavily against him for support.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I grasped the back of his head with my free hand and pulled down so I could reach his lips. They smashed int
o mine, and I moaned. He kissed me just as slowly as his hand stroked me, his tongue thrusting into my mouth like I wanted him inside my body, claiming me, branding me.

  A gasp tore from me as a powerful sensation traveled down my spine, seizing my groin. I stopped kissing him, but his lips remained on mine. My body convulsed against his, and he licked my bottom lip, his hand remaining steady, stroking me through the mini-explosions that wrecked me. I came all over his hand, and I hesitated to take a look down and see how much of it was on me. On him.

  Shit. That was hands down the best hand job I’d ever had. I slumped against Callum, breathing hard, gasping for air, shudders rippling through my body. Damn, I didn’t expect to fall apart in his arms, but I couldn’t help it. I felt like I was home.

  “Fuck, are you okay?” he asked in my ear, taking the glass from my trembling hand. I’d sloshed the entire content on the floor. Possibly even on him.

  I nodded, still unable to speak. He removed his hand, but it returned shortly after with a soft cloth he gently rubbed over my sensitive cock.

  “We need to get you to a bathroom to clean up,” he said. “Come on. Wrap this around your waist.”

  He pushed me away from him a little and shrugged off his jacket. I stared at him nervously, uncertain of what was going through his mind. He frowned as he wrapped the jacket around my waist and knotted the arms to hide whatever spunk I might have spat out on myself.

  “Let’s go.”

  He guided me off the dance floor, his large frame parting a path for us in a way I wouldn’t have been able to do on my own. He didn’t say anything else but kept walking with an angry look on his face. I was worried. Worried about what he thought about what had just happened.