Ducky gave a sudden burst of laughter straight out loud at his serious contemplation. “You only sleep about five hours a night.”
Dallas cast a glance over his shoulder. Where he and Donny had turned strategic, Ducky’s casual gait and bright smile suggested his little brother was relishing his achievement.
The signal changed, and they stepped off the curb together.
“I gotta get back to the hospital.”
“No matter what, our business had a good day,” Ducky said.
Dallas slapped Donny’s outstretched hand, nodding his agreement. Ducky had already veered off, heading in the direction of Dallas’s car when Donny called out, “Ducky, call Dad and tell him Wilder offered you a job.”
Their father lived by a strict set of rules. So did Donny for that matter. Dallas couldn’t count the times their dad had gotten onto Ducky and pushed him out the door to play outside, but he had to remember to tell Ducky not to mention the job offer. As much as his father wanted his boys to work a nine-to-five job, he’d never approve of Dylan and Tristan’s relationship and what that might mean about the Wilder, Inc. company values. Hell, Dallas was surprised Donny had handled it all so well.
Chapter 7
Greer sat on his bike with the remote control in hand, pedaling. His heavy breathing slowly returned to normal. This damn cycle class had become addicting. It weirdly met all his requirements for a good workout: intense, unforgiving, and competitive. Who would have thought riding a stationary bike could be so cathartic?
He lifted the remote control and pointed it to the icon at the bottom of his monitor, switching from class mode to the BikeBro social network. Since his obsessive competitive streak currently was laser focused on beating Biker101, he searched for the person behind the profile to see if anything had changed.
He found the user, but the profile was still shadowed in lockdown private mode. Only a few details were available for public view—Biker101’s stats being one of them. Honestly, Greer liked the privacy feature the site gave its clients. It was a good safety measure to keep the pervs away. But damn, he wanted to know more about Biker101.
His aggravation at the whole thing was more emotional than sensible and one hundred percent self-centered. Greer’s obsessive side demanded he learn more about the user. The person behind Biker101 had whirled around inside his thoughts for the last five days. Early on, he’d decided that if he had a say in who the person was behind the Biker101 account, he wanted them to be a younger man, built like a powerhouse, with thick thunderous thighs.
Greer closed his eyes, thinking about those fictional muscular legs wrapping around his waist, controlling his every move as he worked the guy’s ass over. Biker101 would most definitely be a versatile power-bottom. He also really liked the idea of a strong jawline and thick full lips, maybe a light dusting of a beard. Just throwing it out there.
“Augh,” Greer rolled his eyes at his impromptu fantasy.
The self-mockery didn’t slow his newest obsession. Greer’s dick grew tight as he thought about the fictitious man. It wasn’t the first time he’d had these thoughts; the image of the guy took shape in his head. His mouth watered with the anticipation of licking down 101’s defined stomach muscles...
Maybe he was becoming addicted to sex.
Greer barked out a laugh and clicked off the screen. Surely a person had to have sex more than once or twice a month before worrying about that.
Maybe that was his true problem. His diagnosis should be an under-sexed man, fixated on a fictional cyclist.
He stepped off the bike, proud his wobbly legs were growing stronger when he didn’t crumple to the ground. He could feel the increase in his entire body’s core strength with as many miles as he’d logged on this stationary bike in the last several days. Skye was an excellent trainer. As Greer started toward his bath to shower, the doorbell rang causing him to look over at the Echo to check the time. Damn. Apparently, he had dawdled too long.
Instead of going for the shower he needed more than anything, Greer changed course and headed for the front door. He had met Vance a few months ago. When the guy had randomly texted tonight, it seemed like divine intervention. Vance was tall, slender, and wore his sun-kissed light brown hair long. He looked very much like a displaced surfer—lost and trying to find his next wave.
Greer opened the front door to find Vance with a giant grin on his face. He stepped back, inviting the guy in with the sweep of his arm. “I’m running late. I just finished a workout and need to shower.” He cocked his head toward his guest room right off the entryway. “Join me, or give me five minutes, it’s up to you. If you wait, get a drink.” Greer cocked his head in the other direction toward his loaded bar right off the kitchen.
The sweat still cooling on his skin encouraged Greer to head for the bathroom in the guest room. Either choice Vance made was fine, but a little shower play wouldn’t be a bad thing. The guest room was really his designated sex room, equipped with lube, condoms, soaps, towels, assorted toys, everything needed to have a good time. He dropped his shorts, kicking them aside as he pulled his sweat-soaked tank top off, tossing the shirt toward his bedroom further down the hall.
“Fuck, Greer. Your ass is perfect.” Vance’s husky words were followed by heavy footsteps thudding toward him. This would be his preference too. He ran his fingers through his thick hair, making sure it wasn’t standing on end before looking over his shoulder. Vance shed his clothes as he drew closer. The guy played the exact way Greer liked.
Greer barely had the shower faucet on before strong, calloused palms slid around his waist. “We need to do this more often. You’re hot as fuck.”
“Exactly my thoughts,” Greer cooed.
Greer had no idea how Vance had talked him into catching an UberPool to Club Indigo. It was late and Greer clearly hadn’t been thinking properly when Vance invited him to go.
Of course, he’d been to the dance club many times over the years. Club Indigo was a staple attraction of downtown Dallas nightlife. The place wasn’t all that exclusive, but it was expensive...
With that thought, it had just occurred to him that his job tonight was to cover the costs. Probably the reason Vance had suggested he tag along in the first place. Everything made better sense now, except for the body pressed snugly against his side inside the crowded compact car’s backseat. If he’d had any idea that UberPool meant splitting the cost with people going his same direction, he would have most certainly declined.
Lesson learned.
This had to be what sardines felt like packed inside their can. No wonder the little fish smelled so bad.
Vance had somehow managed his way into the front seat of the vehicle. The fucker. The car stopped at the curb in front of the club and Greer pulled at the door handle. The door didn’t budge. He tried again. What the hell?
Unexpectedly, his date tugged open his door from the outside. “I see that look in your eyes.” Vance’s smug laugh didn’t hinder Greer’s growing bad mood one bit.
Once out of the can and on his feet, Greer made a show of swiping at his clothing like a third grader to rid himself of the imaginary cooties he’d acquired from riding with the other passengers.
“We could have brought my car.”