Page 18 of Bound By Ink

“You need anything, let me know.” I nod and turn to leave.

“Killer.” My gaze snaps back to his, “Don’t do anything stupid. If you wanted him for yourself, you could have had him. Don’t ruin this for him if it’s just jealousy.”

I turn back. “What the fuck, Jerry? Scott’s like my little brother. That is fucking gross. He’s a kid.”

“But he isn’t, is he? He’s always had a crush on you. This guy wouldn’t happen to look like a cheap imitation of you, would he?” He smirks at me, and I grimace.

“No.” I spit, but then I think. “No, he doesn’t, and Scott has never. We’re family, Jerry. I’m just looking out for him. He’s like my kid brother.”

He holds his hands up. “If you say so.”

“I do. Night, Jerry.” I turn and head downstairs. The tension I’ve just released is now back in full force. Me, jealous?Fuck off.It’s definitely not like that, not one little bit.

I storm out, tossing my bag into the boot of the car and slamming the driver’s door. I grip the steering wheel tighter than necessary, staring across the street, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the thought of Scott having a crush on me. I would have known. It’s never been like that. I resign myself to the fact Jerry must be suffering from some mental illness before I drive out of the car park and head back home. I need food and a shower. And I need a good fuck to clear my head.

A few hours later, I’m fed and clean, heading into the city. There are a few great bars that cater to my needs: alcohol, men, women, and sex. I need a blowout or at least a blow job.

I step out of the Uber and head to the front of the queue. The bouncer nods and removes the chain, letting me straight through. “Dude, it’s fucking good to see you, man.” He grins as he shakes my hand, and we bump shoulders in a half-hug. They all know me. Most of them have won big, betting on me. I walk past them and into the venue.

The bar is loud and dark, with sprays of bright lights flying around the dancefloor, lighting up faces before flicking to another area. It’s a whole vibe, and I head straight for the bar. The cage dancers are suspended above the stage, gyrating and putting on a show. And fuck, they’re hot. I stand and stare, mesmerised for a while before I make my way to the bar. I grab a beer and a tequila.

After tossing back the shot, I turn, rest my elbows on the bar and stare out at the crowd. Watching, waiting, looking for someone to scratch an itch. The great part about having no label for my sexuality is that literally anyone will do. I don’t do relationships. I’m a free spirit. I like to play the field, to have fun. I don’t like the confines of labels, preferring the vibe I get when I see someone or just feel a spark, just a small flicker of something.

I stare out into the abyss and move a little to the beat, locking eyes with a group of women on the dancefloor: loud, obnoxious and perfect for snacking on. They draw me in. I smile, and one of them notices me, but before I get to them, one of the dancers climbs down from the cage. He’s slim, with dark hair, petite, and I change my course because he looks like a whole damned meal.

“Hey, beautiful,” he gasps and spins around to face me. His dark hair flops into his face, and he tucks it behind his ear.

“Hi,” he whispers. Giving me a tentative smile, the confidence he exuded while in the cage is long gone, and he seems shy, but fuck, he is cute.

“You on a break?” I smile at him.

He shakes his head. “I, erm, I’ve just finished for the night.”

“Well, it looks like it’s my lucky night. Wanna grab a drink?” I toss him my flirty grin. Even in this lighting, the blush rises up his bare chest and settles in his cheeks. It almost seems a shame that he’ll have to get dressed.

“Sure, give me a sec. I’ll meet you at the bar. I just need to change and wipe this glitter off.”

I step closer, “I don’t mind if you leave it on.” I smile at him. He flushes a bit more and smiles before he turns to leave. I reach out and snatch his wrist, and he spins back to face me.

“What you drinking?”

He gives me the biggest grin. “Vodka, Coke.” He turns and hurries out the back. I stride over to the bar, order the drinks and stand there, waiting. I smile at people who bump into me and the girl who tries to lick me because I look tasty, apparently, but she’s clearly out of it.When there’s a tap on my shoulder, I turn to see him. He’s wearing tight jeans, trainers and a loose-fitting shirt, undone to his waist. The glitter shimmers on his chest, and I wink at him.

He steps into my space and smiles up at me. “Wanna dance?”

I push his drink at him and toss mine back. He does the same and then reaches down, takes my hand and leads me onto the dancefloor, pulling us into the centre, crushed between heaving bodies. He grinds against me. I reach down and grip his hips, and he spins in my hold, rubbing his ass into me. I growl, leaning down and nipping his ear.

“You’re playing dirty,” I mutter.

He chuckles against me as I slide one hand around his waist, pulling him to me, and the other hand over his chest, slipping my hand under the fabric of his shirt and rolling his nipple between my fingers and thumb. He wraps his arms around the back of my head, pulling me closer as I nip at his neck. He whimpers against me.

“You like that, huh?” I kiss his neck. His head relaxes back against me, and he grinds his hips into me.

“Come back to mine?” he whispers, and I nod. “I’ll meet you out front.” He pulls out of my grip, but I grasp his wrist and pull him back to me. I wrap him tight in my arms, crashing my lips to his. His arms slide around me, his hands grip into my shirt, tightening, holding me. Our tongues battle with each other, desperate and needy, gripping him tighter. I grind against him. He pulls away, gasping. He leans back up, kissing the side of my mouth with a breathy, chaste peck and smiles.

“I’ll be quick.” He turns and rushes toward the back of the building. I watch him leave before turning and heading outside. I wait in the cool night air, staring into the dark. The flicker of the stars shines down on me, and I smile at how insignificant things really are.

“Hey.” His voice breaks me from my contemplation, and I turn to see him standing there. I reach out and take his hand. “So, lead the way, sexy.” I smirk, and he pulls me along towards the taxis. I open the door for him, and he hops in. I slide in beside him, and he rattles the address off to the taxi driver. He sits excitedly on the end of the seat, his hand clutching his bag, almost like he’s urging the car to go faster, leaning, willing it to surge forward. Smiling, I sit relaxed by his side. As the taxi pulls up, he announces cheerfully, “This is me.”