Page 39 of Soulmates
SO, I DON’T know Trajan Gall all that well. I mean, I met him at LAX at the beginning of what should have been my one-week spring break sexcapade. My agenda was interrupted by gunshots and explosions, and Tray and I hid out after that, waiting for the crazy to fade. We were together a week, maybe ten days.
And in all that time, he never mentioned his kinky side.
I mean, my family would have a collective shit fit if I brought a vampire home, but still, how disappointing.
We pull into a parking lot outside a plain three-story stucco building. The door is wide and black, and there’s no signage to identify what kind of establishment we’re entering. The doorman’s human, and he and Trajan bristle at each other so hard, I can smell the bad blood. Somehow we get inside, and my jaw drops past my knees.
The big room is done up in black and red and chrome. A glossy bar runs along one wall, and the strip lights shining down on the shelving make every bottle sparkle. Everything gleams except the shadowy corners. My skinny jeans aren’t skinny enough. My Chuck Taylors are too flat. Hell, given the crowd, I should only be wearing leather.
Because yeah. The crowd looks like The Gap made a bondage ad. Leather chic. I’m totally underdressed. Trajan strides over to the bar as cocky as if he owns the place. Or at least like he’s been there a bunch of times before.
He grabs a barstool, but I’m too excited to sit. I know we’re supposed to be looking for Sheena, or maybe Connor, or something, but damn. I came to this town to get dirty, and this place—despite the cool glossy décor and the artfully distressed customers—is filthy.
Trajan’s drawn some not-unexpected interest, and I lean against him so everyone knows I’m first in line. “This is crazy.” I pitch my voice low, half of my attention on a couple of men sitting on a low black couch right across from us. Their relaxed sensuality fires my imagination.
So does the collar the blond one is wearing.
“Sheena works here.” Trajan’s not paying any more attention to me than I am to him. He’s trying to catch the bartender’s eye, and I’m watching the couple. The blond guy is younger, dressed in booty shorts and that collar, and his broad pecs and flat nipples are making my mouth water.
His friend is older but still trim. Distinguished. He’s dressed in black, more slumming billionaire than leather daddy, and he waves at a third man who’s standing near us at the bar.
Trajan picks up a conversation with the bartender, and as soon as I hear Sheena’s not working, I tune out. My couple is standing now, laughing with the third man. The older man has his hand resting in the small of the younger man’s back. Then the third man brushes a thumb over the younger man’s lower lip, and the older man whispers something in his ear.
With a smile that tightens my balls, the younger man sinks to his knees. All around us, people are playing. There are more collars, some with leashes. Bare skin. A pretty blackwoman’s straddling a platinum-haired man, her hips rocking steadily. But when the guy in the booty shorts kneels down, I lose sight of everything else.
I lean harder against Trajan, or maybe my knees go weak, but he reaches out and wraps an arm around my waist. He and the bartender seem to know each other pretty well, so I leave him to his private detective work and watch the scene unfold.
The older gentleman steps up and with gentle hands, he pulls the kneeling man’s arms up and back, grasping him tightly around the wrists. The third man faces them, one hand on his fly. He’s polished, even by Hollywood’s standards. Dark hair slicked in place with product, expensive tailoring. He lowers the zipper on his trousers and draws out his dick.
He’s hard, long and narrow and cut. Either I make some sound or Trajan’s psychic, because the vampire tightens his grasp. My own cock is swelling, all my blood headed south, and I rub my belly against Trajan’s arm. The dark-haired guy strokes his cock, brushing the tip against the kneeling man’s lips. Trajan and the bartender laugh. The older man’s knuckles grow white.
Then, without any more preamble, the guy thrusts his cock into the kneeling man’s mouth. One stroke. All the way in. The kneeling man swallows without gagging, his nose brushing perfectly groomed pubic hair. The older guy says something, and the third guy laughs and begins thrusting.
This living porno is so hot, it might kill me dead. My hips start rocking in time, and though I’m not exactly aware of when it happened, Trajan’s big hand drops down and covers my dick. Which is so hard, my jeans are excruciating. Trajan rubs, and I rock, and across from us, one guy fucks another guy’s mouth while a third guy restrains his hands.
I want to be the guy on his knees so bad, I almost lose my mind.
A single tear trails down the kneeling man’s cheek, but he barely gags despite the pounding.
“You want to play?” Trajan asks, as if he’s read my mind without looking away from the bartender. I nod, and he slides my zipper open and wraps my cock in his cool fingers.
Holy shit.I sag against him. My dick is out where anyone can see it, so hard I could put someone’s eye out. Guess I’m an exhibitionist at heart. Or maybe fucking two men at once is right at the top of my bucket list.
My belly starts quivering, the first hint that I’m getting close. The older gentlemen bendsdown, murmuring in the kneeling man’s ear. He moans, and the guy fucking his mouth thrusts even faster.
My hips lose their rhythm, but right as I’m about to have my first public orgasm, Trajan grabs hard down at the base of my cock.
“Nope.” Heshoots me a glance andchuckles in the face of my whimpers. “We’ve got at least one more stop and no time to clean up.” He shifts so he can brush my neck with his lips. I feelpressurefrom one of his incisors,a tiny scratchthat draws every ounce of my attention.The tip of his tongue quivers against my skin, and if he didn’t have a lockdown on me, I’d have shot my load right there.
He better not bemaking promises he doesn’t intend to keep.
Trajan tucks me away and stands, and even though the trio across from us haven’t hit their peak, I force myself to follow him.This visit has given me plenty of jack-off material, but I have no idea if we’re any closer to finding Sheena.
Ten minutes later, we’re in the Escalade, heading from North Hollywood to God-knows-where. Another club to connect with anotherfriend.
“So you knew your way around that place pretty well.”
Trajan doesn’t react to my comment. His jaw is tight, his expression hidden in shadow. I keep pushing, though, because between my alpha moment, the live porno, and the interrupted hand job, I’m ready to explode.
