Page 10

Chapter 10

Elijah Grant

The email with the official invite to Midnight Manhattan dinged into my phone as I waited in line for my coffee. It had the address attached, along with a dress code (mask only) and a code of conduct (consent, no one being blackout drunk, everyone had to be bathed, etc.). This wasn’t my first time attending one of these exclusive kinds of sex parties, but it was the first time I’d go to one wearing a mask.

Sounded hot as fuck.

And damn did I need that kind of release.

“Thank you,” I said as the barista handed me my caramel macchiato with a grunt-smile hybrid.

Had to love New York City hospitality.

I pocketed my phone and walked out toward Bryant Park. It was a nice day out, but admittedly wasn’t as nice as the day before when I had spent it with Benji. That had been a very pleasant and much-needed surprise. He had a good sense of humor, interesting stories, and the sexiest fucking smile I’d ever seen. He also had that broody-detective thing going for him. An edge of “I’ve seen some shit” that made me want to learn more about him. I wanted to talk to him for hours about his childhood, his work, his likes and dislikes.

I also wanted to spend hours rolling around naked in the sheets with him. There were some men who I had instant chemistry with, and Benji was one of those men. From the second that I met him at Stonewall, I felt a spark in my core that didn’t light up for just anyone.

Maybe I should have invited him to the party tonight…

It wasn’t the first time the thought crossed my mind, but each time it did, I quickly crumpled it up and tossed it away. As hot as that would have been, I didn’t want to push any boundaries he wouldn’t have been comfortable with. He seemed to be just fine when I told him what I did for work, but that didn’t mean he’d be okay with getting invited to a sex party.

Besides, we weren’t even dating. There was nothing except a professional relationship between us.

Although… fuck, was that detective hot as sin.

I sighed and tried to forget about Benji.

Bryant Park was busy today. People lazily strolled through the green space tucked in between tall metallic skyscrapers. Kids laughed and chased pigeons as parents sat on benches and talked with their spouses. An extremely talented mime artist was drawing quite a crowd as she tried to escape from an invisible box.

I walked past, wondering how the hell I was supposed to break out of my own invisible constraints. It felt like the walls around me were getting closer and closer with every new message from Nomad. Like they were days away from throwing a bag over my head and dragging me to their secret lair.

A chill slithered down my back. I looked over my shoulder. It was a habit that had developed only recently.

I didn’t always feel this way. I liked to think of myself as a free-spirit. Anxiety and fear weren’t typically emotions I’d dealt with growing up. I had an almost toxic sense of optimism. It helped me get through school, through my parents’ divorce, being homeless, through a countless number of fights with my sister.

But the world continued to crush me. My mom’s death was my biggest breaking point. The optimism drained out of me in one fell swoop. Then I couldn’t crack into Broadway, no matter how many classes I took or auditions I went to or producers I networked with. Brutal rejection after brutal rejection started to make me feel like whatever little optimism and hope I had left was misplaced. A silly thing I had to outgrow. I started my cam career as a way to not just pay the bills but reclaim some of that “performance” energy I so fucking craved.

Then Nomad stepped onto the stage, and my inspirational play turned into a nightmarish horror film.

Anxiety and fear were no longer strangers to me. They were close acquaintances.

So tonight, I was determined to leave them at home. I had to let loose. Needed to just let go .

What better way to do that than go to an orgy?

* * *

Midnight Manhattan was being held in a penthouse near the Upper East Side. I climbed out of my Uber and looked up at the tall, stately building housing the old money of the city. Billionaires, celebrities, royalty. All of them were known to live in this neighborhood.

I wondered how many of them knew about the party going on tonight? Which of the stuffy old moneybags in this building were aware of all the anonymous cock-sucking and ass-fucking that was going on right above their heads?

Something about that made this even hotter.

I thanked my driver and went up to the doorman. He was dressed in all black, which matched with the black shorts and T-shirt I wore. My mask was inside my pocket. I decided I’d put it on in the elevator so that I didn’t give away too much.

“Hi, sir, I’m here for the event going on in PH2.”

“Of course. Do you have the entrance code?”

“Yes, it’s starry night.”

“Excellent. Right this way.”

I followed him into the opulent lobby, walking across the shining marble floors and toward an elevator bay with golden elevator doors and a massive paint-blotched canvas that looked expensive as fuck. The doorman held a key card against the call pad, and the doors smoothly slid open. I stepped inside, the walls of the elevator covered in more black and white marble, and thanked the doorman as he hit the PH2 button. He gave me a suggestive wink as the door closed.

Huh. Maybe this party wasn’t as secret to the residents as I thought.

I glanced at my reflection in the elevator door, making sure my hair was right and that I didn’t have anything stuck in my teeth. I was proud of the way I looked and didn’t stress too much about it. Maybe it helped that I was paid to be naked and jerk off in front of thousands of people online, but even before I had my cam career, I always felt confident in my body. I wasn’t a gym rat, and I wasn’t a walking bean pole, either. The fact that I had been a competitive swimmer in college likely helped keep my body in check. I was the “guy next door” type, with a juicy ass, a toned and slightly sculpted stomach, some hair on my chest, and a thick, uncut, seven-inch cock.

Yeah, I didn’t have much to feel bad about. Which made nights like these all the more fun.

Zack was right about the safety of the event, as well. I spoke with the organizer personally and told him about my situation with Nomad. He promised they’d be extra vigilant and would also provide undercover security as an extra layer of protection. If this were an open party or a bar, then I wouldn’t have risked it.

The doors opened into a wide hallway. A man—naked except for a peacock feather mask that covered half his face—stood at the door. He smiled, extending a hand. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to shake that or the elephant trunk that he had swinging between his legs.

Oh, tonight is going to be fun.

I grinned, slipping my hand into his for a brief handshake. His grip was firm, his touch lingering, his eyes raking over me like he was already undressing me, which, considering the rules of this place, wouldn’t take much effort.

“May I see your invite?”

I pulled out my phone and showed him the email. At least there were two security points to get into the party. They were taking it seriously, then.

“Welcome,” he murmured, voice husky. “Enjoy yourself.”

The doors opened, and I stepped inside.

The penthouse was massive, opulent in a way that could only belong to someone drowning in old money. Chandeliers dripped crystal light onto polished marble floors, red velvet furniture sprawled across the space, casting deep shadows in the dim, golden glow. The music was low and pulsating, some kind of bass-heavy electronic that seemed to hum beneath my skin.

And the people? The bodies?

It was a sensory overload.

Masked men, all of them completely bare except for the single piece of anonymity covering their faces, moved through the space like ghosts in a fever dream. Some stood near the bar, sipping wine and whiskey, watching, cupping their balls or lazily stroking. Others were already lost in the haze of pleasure—sprawled over couches, pressed against the walls. There were three different hallways leading deeper into the labyrinth of sex and pleasure and dick.

So much dick.

My mouth watered.

Moans and gasps intertwined with the music, filling the room with the raw, unfiltered sound of sex. A man with a black lace mask had his lips wrapped around someone’s cock right there against the bar. Another was on his knees in the middle of the floor, thighs spread, back arching as he took a trip to Paris with one man in front of him and another railing him from behind. Sweat beaded on their rippling muscles as the top gave beastly grunts with every thrust.

I swallowed, my cock already thickening in my shorts.

Yeah. This was exactly what I needed.

I went first to a discreet area to the side of the entrance where cubbies were stacked. Two men undressed, already fondling each other, speaking in hushed tones. I slipped off my shirt and then shorts and put them in a cubby. I slipped my mask on. It was a half mask that was painted white and gave my nose a slightly beakish shape.

The cool air kissed my naked skin. I decided I’d go to the bar first for a little bit of a social lubricant. I wasn’t shy at all, my cock already standing at half-mast as I walked across the dimly lit room. Leaning against the wall was a deliciously built man—thick around the chest and thighs, dark bush of pubes, a heavy cock, and sexy arms. He wore a leather mask that had dark black mesh across the eyes, giving him an extra layer of anonymity.

Fuck, he was hot.

I made a mental note to sidle over to him after I got my drink.

“What can I get you, stud?” the bartender asked. He was just as naked as the partygoers, with an unbelievable eight-pack that seemed to ripple as he moved.

“Vodka tonic, please.”

The bartender turned to grab the bottle of vodka, his ass looking like a ten-course meal. Damn, I wouldn’t mind eating some good ass tonight. Get it nice and wet before I made it mine.

Benji’s ass looked great the other day.

I told myself I wouldn’t think of the detective tonight, but I couldn’t help it. He’d dug under my skin, and I didn’t want to dig him out. Not quite yet. I wanted to explore whatever was there first.

Damn it. Maybe I should have invited him.

The bartender finished making my drink. I thanked him and took a sip, nearly getting knocked back from how strong it was. I shook my head and thanked him again before turning, scanning the room for that leather-masked man.

“Eli?”

My head swiveled to the left, from where my name had come.

Even though he was wearing a mask, I could instantly recognize the person underneath it.

“Zack?”