Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Jae showed him and then counted down for Hop. “Where’s the problem?”
“Forget it,” Hop said. After that, he’d stopped trying to make Jae understand, but he kept practicing. He practiced until he got blisters on his toes.
Then every night he’d tape his feet and get on stage like nothing bothered him.
No pain, no gain. Isn’t that what people said? In Hop’s experience, the saying held the weight of truth. Along with the brain-stealing relationship trouble, his dance stress put Hop in a snappy mood. It didn’t go unnoticed.
Wednesday night before their first performance, the Boyz were discussing what Ansel would serve on their Sunday night gathering that weekend.
“Fitch’s mom gave me her recipe for beet risotto with truffle oil.” Ansel applied his mascara like it was second nature and blinked into the mirror.
Beside him, Z smacked his freshly glossed lips. “You guys are so fucking sweet you make my teeth hurt.”
Ansel didn’t bat an eye as he picked up his blush. “Uh-huh, you must have a dentist on speed dial, bitch. When you look at your detective your eyes go syrupy.”
“You’re not fooling anyone, Z,” Tam teased gently as he fluffed his hair. “Love makes life so much sweeter.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, give it a rest will you? So you’re all living your happily-ever-after dreams, congrats, but some of us are living on Earth, not clouds.” Hop stomped to his bag and yanked out his top. There was an empty chasm in his chest and it ached. Fuck, it ached. And he didn’t understand why.
“Oookay.” Ansel was the first to break the long silence following Hop’s outburst.
“Someone’s fighting the green monster.”
“Fuck you, Z.” Hop turned on his friends, arms akimbo.
“Honey, you’re so green you could have gills.”
“Hop’s right,” Tam said. “We’re being insensitive.”
“Uh, no.” Ansel put a hand on Tam’s shoulder. “I know you’re trying to help, but all three of us deserve our newfound happy. We’re in steady, healthy relationships. If Hop can’t handle it, he’s not really a friend.” That last bit was said directly to Hop and was full of reprimand.
Hop’s vision blurred and he spun to wipe his eyes with a mumbled apology. Ansel was right. It was awful of him to be mad at his friends for being happy. That wasn’t what real friends did.
He should be celebrating their every small victory, not wallowing in his own pain and frustration. But it was hard when inside he was coming to terms with his true essence.
He couldn’t deny it anymore and no longer wanted to—he was a submissive and he belonged to Rafe.
No one else would ever see him on his knees. He’d found his place.
Finally, he was whole.
But he had no clue how to deal with this revelation.
Twenty minutes later, they took the stage. His gaze lifted to the rafters and the comforting shadow of Rafe. All Hop’s anxiety disappeared under Rafe’s commanding watch. The sense of protection filled all the cracks in his confidence.
So he danced.
For Rafe. For however long they had left.
* * *
Backstage later, his phone buzzed a familiar tune and he literally leaped from the chair in order to dig through his bag.
“Jesus,” Z said, eying him with suspicion.
Hop took his phone into the hall.
Go to the bathroom.
His heart purred with glee as he typed out a reply.
Yes, sir.
He headed toward the private unisex restroom the performers used. It wasn’t exactly a discreet location. It was at the end of a long, narrow hall that led from one end of the building to the other with the mechanical controls for the lights, lifts, and stage along with the DJ’s station in the middle. It had frequent traffic. It’d be a tall order to keep their secret if Rafe thought to fuck him in the single stall.
Hop went anyway.
A group of employees waited at the end of the hall. Right before he reached them, a hand grabbed his elbow and pulled him into the thick velvet curtains that lined one side of the hall, separating the main room from backstage. It was pitch black, but he didn’t make a sound.
The rush of blood to his cock made him dizzy with want as Rafe’s heat smothered his back.
“I love the color of that lipstick,” Rafe said in his ear. The fact that he was so close was the only reason Hop could hear him above the music. Rafe pressed a hard cock into Hop’s scantily clad ass. “And those fucking shoes.” Another grind, harder this time. “They drive me wild.”
Hop circled his arms around Rafe’s head allowing him to caress and fondle however—wherever—he wanted.
“Good.”
Rafe’s fingers found his nipples and pinched. “I want to fuck you until you don’t remember your name.”
Hop pushed his ass back in invitation. He didn’t care that there was only a soft barrier between him and an audience. All he wanted, in that moment, was Rafe’s touch. Rafe’s cock. Rafe’s anything.