I was rock hard, and my erect nipples tingled and ached. I couldn’t tell if he heard my moan, but he pressed his lips more directly to my skin, his tongue coming out to lick at my flesh. Greedily, I bared my neck to him by leaning back into his touch, all the while trying not to spill the drink in my hand. He didn’t just kiss my neck but trailed from my shoulder to my earlobe.
The music changed, and people shifted on and off the dance floor around us, but Callum and I continued to dance and grind and kiss, happy to be in our own little bubble. The moment was too fragile…too precious for me to ruin.
“Please,” I moaned, the sound too low for him to hear, but I hoped he’d be able to translate the desperate movement of my hips.
Impatiently, I dropped my hand and cupped my erection through the denim shorts. The dancers around us were so immersed in themselves they didn’t pay us any attention, and I took the liberty to stroke myself, frustrated when the sensation turned out to be not nearly enough.
“Did I give you permission to touch yourself?”
Callum spoke directly into my ear to be heard above the music. I whimpered at the authoritative tone in his voice, suspended between the urge to obey him or to ignore his warning, just to have him speak to me that way again. I could get off with him reprimanding me.
“I’m so hard,” I cried out, turning to him. I sucked in a deep breath and drank in the sight of him, probably drooling, but I didn’t care.
He’d come, and that made this birthday so much more special than anything else could have. Somebody bumped into me from behind, and I stumbled forward. Callum caught me, flush against his body.
“Keep dancing!” he ordered, and I took that as an opportunity to wrap both my arms around his neck, giving him a small smile. His hand landed on the front of my shorts, touching me in the same way I’d been touching myself. But he was more insistent, cupping my hard-on. I was so stunned I stopped moving.
He removed his hand. “Keep dancing.”
I snapped out of my daze, ignoring the rhythm as I danced for him and the music of desire.
I was extremely grateful when he fondled my groin once more. So grateful I almost came from his hand on my crotch. He cupped my balls and dick in a gentle but firm hold. He squeezed and released, stroking my length. It was damn near impossible to concentrate on dancing when he was driving me to my knees.
“Don’t stop,” he said. “I’ve got you.”
Tears sprung to my eyes, and I closed them. I didn’t want to freak him out. I’ve got you. How long had I waited for someone to say this to me after the hellish year I’d been through and the transformation of my life since the incident?
I forgot about everything that wasn’t Callum and the way he made me feel. His hands worked on the button of my shorts, slipping it from the hole. The zipper went slowly down. I wasn’t wearing underwear, and he slipped inside my shorts and took my dick in his palm. His flesh burned mine from the intimacy of his touch.
At the back of my mind, the thought popped up that we should move this somewhere else. Anyone who looked closely enough would be able to see what we were up to. I was clearly not dancing to the music anymore. The gyration of my hips and my thrusting were all about seeking relief from the vise that gripped my cock.
He pulled me forward until my head was to his shoulder. “No underwear?” he growled. “I just knew you were a naughty boy. Were you hoping to be fucked by someone tonight?”
I nodded against his shoulder shamelessly. I couldn’t speak. My throat constricted with emotions that came out in tiny grunts. His hand was doing deliciously heart-stopping things to me. He stroked the entire length of my cock, never once quickening his pace but never easing the pressure of his hold either. Stroke after stroke, he drove me to the brink while my legs trembled until I leaned heavily against him for support.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I grasped the back of his head with my free hand and pulled down so I could reach his lips. They smashed into mine, and I moaned. He kissed me just as slowly as his hand stroked me, his tongue thrusting into my mouth like I wanted him inside my body, claiming me, branding me.
A gasp tore from me as a powerful sensation traveled down my spine, seizing my groin. I stopped kissing him, but his lips remained on mine.
My body convulsed against his, and he licked my bottom lip, his hand remaining steady, stroking me through the mini explosions that wrecked me. I came all over his hand, and I hesitated to look down and see how much of it was on me. On him.
Shit. That was hands down the best hand job I’d ever had. I slumped against Callum, breathing hard, gasping for air, shudders rippling through my body. Damn, I hadn’t expected to fall apart in his arms, but I couldn’t help it. I felt like I was home.
“Fuck, are you okay?” He took the cup from my trembling hand. I’d sloshed the entire contents on the floor. Possibly even on him.
I nodded, still unable to speak. He removed his hand, but it returned shortly after with a soft cloth he gently rubbed over my sensitive cock.
“We need to get you to a bathroom to clean up. Come on. Wrap this around your waist.”
He pushed me away from him a little and shrugged off his jacket. I stared at him nervously, uncertain of what was going through his mind. He frowned as he wrapped the jacket around my waist and knotted the arms to hide whatever spunk I might’ve spat out on myself.
“Let’s go.”
He guided me off the dance floor, his large frame parting a path for us in a way I wouldn’t have been able to do on my own. He didn’t say anything else but kept walking with an angry look on his face. I was worried. Worried about what he thought about what had just happened.
I wanted this to mean something to him. I didn’t want to return to his coffee shop tomorrow just for him to serve me a cup, make nice, then ignore me. The hand job was nice and all, but I…I wanted him.
“Wait,” I said when he turned us in the direction of the public bathrooms. “There’s a private restroom we can use, but it’s this way.”
He quirked an eyebrow at me but didn’t protest when I started in the opposite direction down a corridor. “I know the owner of the club,” I said, just in case he wondered about my familiarity with areas of the building that were staff only.
“I don’t doubt you do,” he replied, his tone so flat I still couldn’t figure out what he was thinking.
“He was my brother’s best friend. He’s almost like a second brother to me. He and my brother had a partnership with this club.”
“Ah.”
Frustrated, I stopped justifying myself to him and continued in silence until we reached Luthor’s office. A keypad opened the door, and I punched in the code: my brother’s birthday. The door unlocked, and I pushed it open and entered, expecting Callum to do the same.
When I didn’t hear the door close behind me, I stopped and turned toward him. I froze, dragging a painful breath into my lungs. He hadn’t stepped in but stood with the door caught in his hand to prevent it from closing. The closed-off look he wore said everything he had yet to say.
“Aren’t you coming in?” I asked him softly. Even though the sound was muffled this far back, the music was still loud enough to hear.
“You should clean up.” He frowned. “I’m sorry about—”