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Chapter Four

Alex

The crowd cheers me on as I make my way down the stripper’s glittering waist, taking one body shot after the other in quick succession. When I get to the last one, placed strategically between her breasts, I make a show of it, which the crowd loves.

The tequila goes down easily. I don’t spill any on her, which is a damn feat itself, considering how much I’ve drunk tonight.

I stand up, nearly falling over, but that’s why we came here, right?

The stripper gets up, giggling, and I stick a couple twenties under her bra straps.

“Thanks, babe,” I say with a wink, and she giggles again before heading to her next victim .

I run my hands through my hair to push it out of my face. When I look up, I see Paul, Andre, Trey, and Hudson, but no Mack or Austen.

Cam was being a party pooper and didn’t want to come. I didn’t expect him to anyway. Austen gets anxious when he’s around us for too long, so I figure it’s better this way.

“Where’s Austen?” I ask.

Hudson is practically lifeless, hanging off Trey, and I’m not entirely certain he won’t upchuck right here.

To Trey’s credit, he doesn’t flinch. If anything, he shifts to make sure he can withstand Hudson’s weight.

He’s a big guy. Not as big as the Mack Truck , but I’m sure he’s a lot to hold up for a leaner guy like Trey.

“He left a while ago. Said he was heading back.”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. It’s been barely two hours. I thought he’d make it longer. Sometimes I wonder how the fuck we’re even related, since we have next to nothing in common.

Andre whistles at a woman passing by and makes the worst pass at her. She scoffs and he stumbles forward, knocking into a couple nearby and spilling the drinks in their hands.

They complain and Andre shakes his head, grabbing Paul by his collar. Once he gets him wrangled, he hands the angered couple some money to pay for the drinks so a fight doesn’t break out.

“Yeah, I think that’s where we’re headed too,” Andre says with a nervous laugh.

“But we just got here,” Paul complains. “I haven’t even had a lap dance yet.”

Amateurs. All of them.

I should have reconsidered being the cruise director for seven drunk athletes.

“Alright, I’ll find Mack Attack, and I guess we’ll call it a night,” I say as Trey adjusts Hudson.

“I don’t feel so good, Trey,” he whines.

“Get him out of here before he blows,” I direct as I shoo them away.

Trey is all too happy to hightail it out of here.

“See you in the morning, Brewer,” Andre says as he smacks Paul on the back. “Come on, Casanova, let’s go before you get your ass kicked.”

I run my hands through my hair as I watch them leave.

Fuck… where is Mack?

I push through the crowd, panic and anxiety starting to swell, because I can’t find him.

Shit! What if he’s lying in a ditch somewhere or handcuffed to someone’s bed, or—

I push my fingers into my eyes to rid myself of the image of Mack handcuffed to a bed, those long, muscled arms flexing, those perfect pecs on display.

My cock awakens, and I groan. No! Not a good idea, Alex, not now !

The lights above flash over the crowd, lighting up faces that aren’t his as I push towards the stage.

I should have kept better tabs on him, should have never let him go awol from the group, should have argued with him and told him to stay and—

My heart stops; I could pass out from relief.

There, at the front of the stage, sits Jordan Mackenzie, hands in his lap as a stripper shakes her ass in front of him.

Well, he’s not really sitting as much as he’s two inches away from slipping off the chair and falling to the floor, but I digress. He’s safe and that’s what matters.

I stand just out of his vision and watch. Maybe it’s wrong, but we’re in a public place. I’m not the only one watching the show. There’s plenty of people here doing the same thing.

But if he knew I was watching, he’d get pissed off and tell me to fuck off.

Typically, I prefer to be the one being watched. Caught. Whatever you want to call it. I like to put on a show, especially if I know I have an audience.

It’s easier to be the person everyone thinks I am, rather than the disaster that’s hiding beneath. Because underneath all the muscles and sarcasm, that is what I really am—a mess.

Too Much. Not Enough. Unloveable. Undeserving.

But I can be whatever they want me to be, too. I can be a good boy, if I want.

At least, that’s what I tell myself. Fake it until you make it, right?

The stripper bends over Jordan, shoving her tits in his face.

It’s not a bad sight, but he doesn’t look interested.

Must be drunker than I thought. He pushes her breasts away, instead, going straight for her panties with some dollar bills that haphazardly fall out of his hand.

She doesn’t notice, too engulfed in running her hands over his solid chest and grinding along his lap.

I take a few steps forward until I am right next to him.

“You’ll need to wait your turn,” she says sweetly.

“I’m not here for you, babe,” I say with a smirk. “Though, you are doing a great job!”

I lean down to grab the discarded bills and the ones still clutched in his fist.

My fingers brush his and I have to fight the urge to tangle mine between them. His fingers are thick, rough to the touch, and the thought of what they’d feel like around my neck, my cock…

Fuck me. Fuck me to hell.

I let go regrettably and hand the bills to the stripper.

“Think he meant to give this to you,” I say as she slides away from Mack.

She shoots me a lusty gaze. “Thanks, cutie.”

Maybe I should’ve gotten a lap dance instead of doing the body shots. Oh well, I guess I’ll have to make that a priority tomorrow night, because as Mack groans, I know my night is fucked in more ways than one.

“Can you stand?” I ask, trying to figure out how I’m going to carry him if he can’t.

“What?” Mack’s voice is thick, raspy from his excessive drinking.

I take in the sight of him like this—sprawled out in the chair with that rather large bulge, legs spread wide, his dark hair a mess and sticking to his sweaty face.

“Can you stand?” I ask again as I lean over him. My lips are so close to his ear, I could lick his earlobe. Bite it, even.

I bet he’d jump out of this chair if I did that. Tell me to fuck off. Probably punch me in the face. It’d be worth it.

He shifts in his seat, just enough that my lips graze his neck from the motion. I’m frozen. I want to move, but I can’t.

Instinctively I lick my lips, the prominent taste of his sweat on my tongue sending a shiver directly to my cock.

No, Alex. Bad Alex.

“I can do more than stand,” Mack says as he gets up, nearly knocking the chair over. To his credit, he stands without falling over, and I’m impressed. But then he takes one step forward and loses his balance. I catch him easily, my hands braced against his chest.

“Standing like the leaning tower of Pizza.”

“What?” he bites out .

“Nothing,” I say with a laugh as I right him. “I think the boys are calling it a night. Maybe we should too.”

Mack scoffs. “Pussies.”

I can’t help but laugh as he shoots me a hazy glare.

“You’re not pussying out on me, are you, Alex?” he asks with a lazy smile.

My hands stay on his chest, my palms heating where they touch his warm body.

“No,” I tell him with a smile. “But maybe we should get something to eat or we’ll end up like Hudson,” I say with a chuckle.

Mack laughs. He fucking laughs. It’s dark and smooth and makes my insides warm.

I drop my hands, nodding for him to follow me.

He starts off okay, but after a few steps, I settle my arm around him.

He tries to push me off, but I don’t budge.

I take harder hits on the ice, honestly.

Maybe if he was sober, it would be a fair fight, but right now?

Right now, his body’s like wobbly Jell-O.

“You’ll thank me later,” I tell him with a chuckle. “When your face is intact.”

“Fuck you. There’s nothing wrong with my face.”

“And I’d like to keep it that way.” I guide us out of the club into the crisp night air.

“How about tacos?” I ask as I lead us down the strip .

The food carts are still hot and steaming and there’s a line for every one. One glance at my watch tells me it’s nearing two. This city really doesn’t sleep, and I love it.

“I hate tacos,” Mack says, shaking his head.

“What the fuck are you, an alien? No one hates tacos,” I bite out.

“It’s half rabbit food. Fuck all that mess.” Even though he’s starting to walk a little better, I don’t trust him on his own. I feel like if I let him go, he’ll take a nosedive, and I do not want to fuck up Austen’s wedding photos with a bandaged up Mack.

“Fuck you,” he mutters, but there’s no bitterness in his voice.

“What do you want then, sweetheart?” I tease. “I’m buying.”

Mack shifts against me, letting out a grunt.

“Anything but fucking tacos, that's for sure. Least not from the strip . ”

“Bella’s has the best tacos,” I say nonchalantly. “And nachos.”

I spot a food cart with gourmet potatoes and fries. Before I can ask, he grumbles, “That. Totally fucking that. Fuck yes.”

I look where his gaze is fixed. A pickle cart.

With giant, whole pickles in what looks like every flavor.

I can smell the vinegar from here. I can’t help but laugh, because it’s just…

yeah, of course he’d pick the phallic-looking de licacy on a stick.

The universe really does love to fuck me over and over.

“Oh, Jordan, maybe there is hope after all for you.” He curses me again. “Wait here,” I say as I head over to the cart.

I keep him in my vision, trying not to stare at the way he slides his hands into his pockets or the way the wind blows his hair. He seems solid on two feet, so I order us both two large fried pickles drizzled in ranch.

“You think you can walk and put this in your mouth at the same time?” I tease.

He flips me off as he grabs the pickle, his gaze holding mine like a fire as he sticks the pickle in his mouth, nearly halfway, and I have to fight the groan that wants to escape me as my cock hardens.

He tears into it with a loud crunch as he takes a step forward, and I follow him without hesitation.

When we get back to the hotel, we’ve gone through our pickles, plus a bowl of ice cream piled high with toppings.

Mack holds a drink in his hand, the one the waitress brought him just because he sat down at a slot machine to catch his breath.

I don’t know what it is, but it smells fruity as hell.

I’d downed my drink in one gulp, right before Mack hit on the slots for one hundred bucks. Talk about a good fucking night.

I fumble with my wallet for the key while holding my drink in the crook of my arm as the alcohol hits its peak .

“I love it here,” Mack says with a drunk grin, leaning against the wall.

My hand freezes on the doorknob as I catch the smile on his face. I’ve never seen him smile like this before.

I open the door and he slides off the wall, shoving his drink at me as he trails into the room and takes his shirt off, throwing it across the room.

I spit my drink as I watch him, without a care in the world, undress down to his boxers.

He runs his hand through his hair, making his muscles flex.

I sip my drink, realizing from the bitterness it’s not my drink, but I don’t care.

Alcohol is alcohol. I drink until there’s nothing left but ice, and the chill blankets my tongue.

“Me too,” I say, biting my lip as he crashes into his bed, his perfect, round ass on display as he clutches his pillow. Mack’s thick in all the right places, but toned and muscular in all the others. A piece of fucking art.

I settle our empty cups on the nightstand and undress. Mack’s loud snores tell me he’s out like a light.

I adjust my cock, feeling more than guilty. This… this would be too perfect.

The thought of touching myself with him in the same room, just mere feet away is so fucking tempting. I look at him, comfortable and relaxed, and I know I can’t do it. I wish I could, though .

Instead, I saunter into the bathroom and turn on the shower, making sure it’s as cold as possible so I can kill this erection.

When I finally make it to bed, I breathe a sigh of relief.

Good boy, Alex.