Page 12 of Fire Me Up (Front Range Motorcycle Collective #2)
Dylan
G ael was late, but this time I wasn’t nervous—I was fucking impatient. Why hadn’t I just fucked him last night and gotten it over with? He’d looked more than eager.
All I’d thought about since then was getting my hands on him again. Teaching him. Showing him exactly what his body was capable of feeling. The memory of his mouth against mine had kept me hard and distracted for days.
A group of guys laughed as they passed, throwing curious glances my way, probably wondering why I was hovering by the club entrance like some creep. I ignored them, scanning the street for any sign of a tall, muscular firefighter.
When I spotted him, I stopped breathing for a second.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Gael was striding toward me, and he looked like every wet dream I’d ever had come to life.
His thick, muscular thighs were on full display in shorts that hugged his ass so perfectly it had to be illegal.
His white tank clung to his chest, the thin fabric outlining his pecs and giving me a glimpse of dark nipples I now knew were sensitive.
This wasn’t the same shy, uncertain guy who’d asked me to teach him about gay sex. This was a walking billboard for it.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Two guys smoking outside nudged each other, openly staring as Gael approached. One of them licked his lips, whispering something to his friend that made them both laugh.
Something dark and possessive twisted in my gut. These fuckers were eyeing him like a piece of meat, and I wanted to punch every single one of them.
Which was ridiculous. I’d just been doing the same, and I didn’t own Gael.
We weren’t dating. I was his sexual mentor, his tour guide to gaydom, nothing more.
But my body didn’t get the memo, tension coiling in my muscles as I watched him navigate the attention like he had no idea how edible he looked.
“Hey,” Gael said when he reached me, a bashful smile that didn’t match his outfit spreading across his face. “Sorry I’m late. Liv made me change. She said I was dressed like a straight frat bro.”
“Straight frat bros are hot too.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, so familiar and endearing it made my chest ache. “Do I look okay?”
My jaw clenched as another guy walked past, gaze raking over Gael’s ass. “You look more than okay. You look like you’re advertising.”
“Isn’t that the point?” He cocked his head, somehow managing to look both sinful and innocent. “To make sure you take me home tonight? Instead of freaking out about my injury and sending me home hard and horny.”
I grabbed his wrist, tugging him closer. “You’d better fucking stay by my side tonight.”
It came out rougher than I intended—possessive, demanding, nothing like the casual, experienced mentor I was supposed to be. Gael’s eyes widened; a deep flush spread across his cheeks. His pupils blew, and I realized with a jolt that he liked my possessiveness.
Interesting.
“When do we get to the other instruction?” he asked, voice low. “The hands-on stuff?”
My cock strained against my jeans at his words, at the nervous anticipation in his eyes. “Whenever you want.”
He bit his lower lip, glancing around at the crowd. His blush deepened. “I just thought dressing more like a bottom would be fun. To try it out.”
“I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with,” I said. “You look hot as hell, by the way.”
His shy smile was worth the admission. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I steered him toward the entrance, my hand on the small of his back. “Come on, let’s get inside before someone tries to steal you away.”
He leaned in, lowering his voice. “You always look hot as hell. I don’t even care what you wear. You’re just crazy sexy to me.”
I was blushing as the bouncer checked Gael’s ID. I searched my pockets for my wallet, realizing I definitely didn’t have it. A surge of panic made me want to run back to my truck, until a laughing leaned in and said something to the bouncer that made him laugh.
The bouncer rolled his eyes and waved us through. The club was already packed, bodies pressed together as the music thumped so loud I felt it in my chest. Colored lights flashed across the crowd, illuminating faces, bare skin, the occasional glint of jewelry or glitter.
I kept Gael close as we wove toward the bar, hyperaware of every lingering glance thrown his way. A guy with bleached hair and too many piercings actually licked his lips as we passed, eyes glued to Gael’s ass. A bald guy at the end of the bar openly stared, predatory.
I stepped between them, blocking the view. It was ridiculous, acting like a jealous boyfriend instead of a mentor, but I couldn’t seem to stop. The idea of anyone else touching Gael, kissing him, showing him what his body could do—it made my blood boil.
“You okay?” Gael asked, clocking my tension. “You seem… I don’t know. Different tonight.”
“I’m fine. Just distracted. You know me. Playing bodyguard is a lot of work.”
He laughed, and the sound was rich and warm even over the pounding music. “I don’t think I need one.”
“Look around, Gael. You’re the hottest guy in here, dressed like sex on legs. Every top in this place wants a piece of you right now.”
Including me. Especially me.
“Oh.” He glanced around, suddenly self-conscious. “I didn’t think—I mean, I figured I wasn’t that
“You are,” I cut him off, needing him to understand. “Trust me. You are exactly that.”
He took a large swallow of his whiskey. When he lowered the glass, his eyes met mine, dark and full of trust. “Good thing I’ve got you to protect me, then.”
I clenched my teeth, fighting the urge to admit I was the biggest threat to him in this entire club. If he knew what I was thinking about doing to him, he’d probably run for the exit.
“Let’s dance.”
The floor was a heaving mass of bodies, the bass vibrating my ribcage.
I kept him close, one hand at the small of his back as we pushed through to a pocket of space.
His skin was hot under my palm, a thin sheen of sweat already forming from the heat of so many bodies crammed together.
The DJ shifted to a faster beat and lights swept across us, turning Gael’s skin blue, then red, then purple in quick succession.
As always, he moved with surprising grace for such a big guy, finding the rhythm easily, finding the way our bodies fit like instinct. Watching him roll his hips, arms raised, face flushed with exertion and pleasure, made my mouth water.
I slid closer, hands on his hips, guiding him. His eyes locked with mine—dark, hungry. He came in, his hands landing on my shoulders, then sliding down to my chest.
“Is this okay?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Heat radiated off him as we moved together, the space between us shrinking with each beat. The tension between us was so thick I could taste it, metallic and urgent on my tongue.
A guy to our left caught my eye—tall, muscular, shirtless. He was watching Gael with open appreciation, inching closer with each song. When Gael spun and backed into me so his ass pressed against my crotch, Shirtless Guy’s eyes widened with interest.
I glared over Gael’s shoulder—a silent warning, completely ignored. Gael, oblivious to the territorial pissing contest, ground back in a way that made my cock throb painfully. His head tipped back to my shoulder, exposing the long line of his throat.
The music shifted to something slower, darker, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. Gael turned to face me again, our bodies flush, one thick thigh pressed between mine. His hands slid into my hair, pupils blown.
Shirtless Guy chose that moment to slide in beside him, placing a hand on Gael’s lower back. “Can I cut in?” he shouted.
Something snapped.
I grabbed Gael’s hip with one hand, cupped the back of his neck with the other, and pulled him flush. “You’re with me tonight.” Then I crushed my mouth to his.
Nothing gentle: teeth and tongue and barely controlled desperation. I half expected him to push me away, tell me I was overstepping. Instead, he made a soft, broken sound and kissed back just as hard, his hands fisting in my shirt.
Shirtless Guy might have backed off; I didn’t care. All I could focus on was Gael—the taste of whiskey on his tongue, the solid warmth of his body, the way he kissed me like he needed it to breathe.
We were still technically dancing, bodies rolling to the beat, but that was secondary to the heat building between us. I slid my hands down to grab his ass, hauling him tighter so he could feel how hard I was. He groaned into my mouth, his erection obvious through those tiny shorts.
“Dylan,” he gasped when we broke for air, voice wrecked. “I want
“I know,” I cut in, kissing him again, deeper.
Around us the crowd moved, the music pounded, but we might as well have been alone. Everything narrowed to this: Gael’s mouth, his hands, the sweet friction as we ground with growing urgency.
Why the fuck had I waited so long? It wasn’t enough. I needed more. Needed privacy. Needed to control my impulse to fuck him right here in the middle of the dance floor.
I broke the kiss, both of us breathing hard. “Come with me,” I said, taking his hand and pulling him through the crowd.
We stumbled off the floor, past the bar, down a dim corridor toward the bathrooms. Halfway there, it felt too far. I pushed him into a support column and kissed him again—nothing but hunger and need.
“Fuck,” he panted against my lips, hands sliding under my shirt. “Is this part of the lesson?”
“A hands-on component.”
We moved farther down the hall. This time he pressed me to the wall, his bigger body caging me in as he kissed with surprising skill. His confidence was fucking hot; the way he took control made my cock ache.
I spotted a dark alcove near the end of the corridor—not private enough for what I really wanted, but better than the middle of the hallway. I steered us there, backing him into the corner, my hands already pushing up his tank.
“Let me taste you,” I murmured, ducking to lick at his exposed skin.