Page 6 of Their Wicked Ways
Stars exploded in my vision. I held him tight against me, molding my body to his as Wes pressed up against his front. He relaxed against us, one arm wrapped around Wes’s waist, the other hand gripping the leg of my jeans.
The song blended into another, this one slower and with a heavy bass line.
Wes slowed the pace of our dancing, guiding us in a sensual rhythm as we ground together.
Watching Wes as he danced with our new friend was affecting me almost as much as the guy’s hot body in front of me. I loved seeing my man in seduction mode.
The notes of the music blended seamlessly into an old pop song that had been heavily remixed.
Wes spun our new friend, reversing our positions so he was pressed up against the guy’s back.
The guy looked utterly wrecked. His wide, glassy eyes pinned me with a heated stare. His lips were parted, his chest heaving as he huffed out quick, shallow breaths.
Hooking my finger through his belt loop, I tugged his crotch against mine. Our dicks bumped and scraped together.
Oh yeah, he was as hard as me.
Sliding one hand down his sweat-slick chest, I traced my fingers through the line of hair between his belly button and low-rise jeans.
His eyes widened as he sucked in a shaky breath. I did it again. He dragged his tongue over his full bottom lip.
Gripping Wes’s hip with my other hand, I locked the three of us together in a tight embrace. Our new friend’s head fell back against Wes’s shoulder, his glassy, dazed eyes fixed on something off in the distance as the last of his nerves seemed to break. Strong, hot hands held my waist as he gave himself over to the music—and to us.
Wes caught my eye as we swayed together. I leaned around our new friend to press a kiss against my man’s lips.
He stiffened between us, the low rumble of his moan reverberating against my chest. I slicked my tongue over Wes’s bottom lip, then pulled back.
The guy stared at me, his expression an intoxicating mix of arousal and nerves.
I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his ear. “Want to come to the back room with us?”
He didn’t answer, didn’t move. “Only if you want to,” I said loud enough he’d be able to hear me over the pulsing music.
He swallowed, his expression shifting to one I couldn’t quite read. Was that fear?
Not wanting to overwhelm him, I let go and went to step back.
He tightened his grip, holding me in place, and nodded.
Wes let go of our new friend and spun him around. He grasped one of the guy’s hands, lifted it to his lips, and brushed a kiss against his knuckles.
I dropped back and followed as Wes tugged our new friend toward the back of the club.
Envy had two back rooms, and we bypassed the one with couches and high bar tables that people used to get away from the noise of the club and went into the one way in the back.
This room was devoid of any sort of furniture other than the odd garbage bin. Weak spotlights illuminated swaths of the room, while dim wall sconces added just enough light to the dark areas that you could walk around without running into anyone.
Couples, triads, and groups of men dotted the room. Some were under the spotlights; others had claimed darker patches of the wall.
The room wasn’t soundproof, especially since the door kept opening and closing every time someone came or went, but the thud of bass and loud notes of the music were muffled by the walls, amplifying the soundtrack of men enjoying themselves.
Moans and groans and cries rose and fell as we brought our new friend to a back corner. When we played alone, Wes and I liked to settle under one of the spotlights and add another dimension to our public play, but something told me our new friend wasn’t ready for that level of exhibitionism.
When we arrived at our preferred corner, Wes grabbed our new friend and pushed him against the wall.
He went willingly, breathing heavily as he looked between us.
“What’s your name?” Wes asked, his voice low enough that we wouldn’t be overheard by anyone nearby.