Page 63 of Pieces of Me

“It doesn’t matter in the long run, does it? I make no secret of the fact I suck at relationships. Most people who get involved with me know the score, especially someone like Lance. The porn dude.” He bristled at the look in Rylan’s eyes. “Don’t need your judgment or your pity, Rylan.”

Rylan gazed at him steadily. “I know. You never did. I just―” He looked away, and Scott reached out and touched his forearm, drawing his attention back to him.

“What? You what?”

Rylan covered Scott’s hand with his own, his fingers warm and strong. “I hate seeing that some things haven’t changed,” he said quietly, and Scott yanked his hand away, his skin feeling cold after the warmth of Rylan’s touch.

“What things?” he sneered. “The fact I’m the same heartless bastard at twenty-four that I was at eighteen?”

Rylan was already shaking his head. “No. The fact you still don’t believe you deserve anything more.”

Scott swallowed hard and forced out through gritted teeth, “Maybe I don’t want anything more. I have everything I want, Rylan. Everything. Don’t doubt that, and don’t you ever fuckin’ feel sorry for me.”

The waitress came to take their order, cutting off whatever Rylan might have replied, and Scott ordered his usual spinach-and-egg-white omelet while Rylan requested a stack of blueberry pancakes with a side of bacon. He winked at Scott, the ease and friendliness back in his expression, dropping the previous subject. “Since you’re buying,” he teased, “I’m going all out.”

Scott relaxed and grinned. “Go for it. My days of being broke are long over, thank fuck. I’m not going to book my European vacation yet, but I can definitely buy a cute guy breakfast.” He was vastly amused when Rylan blushed. “I have to say in your case I’m glad to see some things haven’t changed,” he continued, making a play on Rylan’s earlier words. “Your face still turns red when you’re flustered.”

Rylan groaned, scrubbing his hands over his flushed cheeks, and Scott couldn’t help but tease some more. “You look twelve years old when you do that, and it’s fucking adorable.”

Suddenly the waitress was there with steaming plates of food. Scott seasoned his omelet with Tabasco, looking rather enviously at Rylan’s fluffy, buttery pancakes.

“Want a bite?” Rylan asked, noticing Scott watching him eat. He forked up some pancake and held it out, the maple syrup oozing and dripping to the table.

Scott gave a longing glance at the fork, shook his head, and stuffed his mouth with egg white. “Nope. It’s not a carb day.”

“Ah.” Rylan pulled the bite back and ate it himself. “Got it. Keeping fit is your job.”

“Yep. And I have an underwear shoot in a few days, so nothing but lean protein and water for me from now until it’s over.”

“I’ll have to enjoy all the carbs for you, then.” Rylan cut himself an enormous bite of his pancake and savored it with little moans of pleasure, licking the fork clean of butter and syrup. Scott couldn’t help but stare, the sight of Rylan’s pink tongue cleaning the tines so thoroughly causing heat to shiver through him, remembering the feel of that shy tongue on his belly, his balls, the tip of his cock―

Scott dropped his napkin casually in his lap, spreading his legs a little to ease the pressure. Shit. Looking for a distraction, he said, “You get some good pictures tonight? How did it go?”

Rylan nodded enthusiastically, digging in his backpack for his Nikon and doing something to it before handing it across the table to Scott. “Press the left arrow button, and it’ll scroll you through all the pictures.”

Scott took the camera and looked at the first picture displayed on the large digital screen, one of Teena in her ticket booth outside the club, her arms waving and her mouth open as she playfully insulted everyone who came to her window, that shot followed by photos of her strutting up and down the sidewalk to the delight of the club patrons waiting in line.

“These are great, Rylan,” Scott exclaimed sincerely. “Corey will love these. They really showcase the theme he wants for the club, a fun and sexy good time.” He smiled when he saw the ones of Lon, the DJ, dancing in his booth, the colored lights a blur and swirl around him. The go-go dancers up on their podiums were all sweaty abs and muscular legs, their miniscule Speedos doing nothing to hide the impressive bulges they flaunted.

“Wow, Ry,” Scott said. “These are better than anything I’ve seen on the PR side.”

“And once I edit and filter them, they’ll be even better,” Rylan replied, confidence in his tone. “Check these out.”

He took the camera and pressed a few buttons and handed it back to Scott, who gasped when he saw himself on the screen. He looked larger than life, photographed in black and white, Rylan somehow making the red of his thong stand out in sharp relief.

“How did you do that with the red?” he breathed. “The contrast makes my body look fucking fantastic.”

“A photographer’s trick with mediums,” Rylan said softly. “You like? There’s more.”

Scott scrolled through the rest of the VIP pictures eagerly and then went back to the beginning to peruse them more slowly. “These are―well, they’re incredible, Rylan. Titillating yet tasteful. This one’s my favorite.”

He flipped the camera around to show Rylan a picture of him in a reverse straddle on Michael’s lap, his back arched and his head thrown back. All of Michael that could be seen were his hands, spread low across Scott’s abs, and the trouser-clad knees Scott was perched on. One of Scott’s own hands rested over his crotch, his bulge barely visible between his fingers, and his other arm was up over his head and braced against the wall behind the booth. Scott remembered how Michael had been biting and licking his shoulder blade during that lap dance, and heat blasted through him at the thought of Rylan taking pictures of it all.

“You―” He swallowed. “You didn’t have those guys’ permission to photograph them, did you?”

Rylan shrugged. “No. But there aren’t any identifying features in any of these pictures. Just their hands and arms, their legs. There’s no breach of privacy.”

“Well, these pics are sexy as hell,” Scott said hoarsely, staring down at the camera, mesmerized. “Hot.”