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I’m so close I can barely think. “Oui!Seulement tois. Personne d’autre.“ I thrust mindlessly against him, digging my fingers into his shoulders as my orgasm slams through me with a ferocity that almost buckles my legs.
“Mine.” Gunnar thrusts into his now slick hand. “Only”—he thrusts again—“mine.” His fingers dig into my hip as his eyes squeeze shut, and his body shudders against me, warmth flowing over our already wet cocks.
“Yes.” I nod against the door as his strokes slow, and his hips stop jerking. “Only yours.” Gunnar drops his head to my shoulder and leans into me as we catch our breath. After a moment, he raises his head and kisses me softly before backing up. Weak-kneed, we stumble away from each other. Gunnar turns toward the sink, rinsing his hand and opening a small packet of wipes, taking a few and handing me the rest. Chuckling, I clean up and tuck myself back in my jeans. “Very convenient. I guess the club knows its clientele.”
“Probably makes more sense to have them than to try to clean up after.”
I grimace at the thought and make sure the used wipes go into the trash. Gunnar pulls me into his arms and brushes his lips against mine. “You okay?”
“Mmm. I’m amazing. How’re you?”
He grins impishly. “Also amazing.” He lets me go and opens the bathroom door. “You ready to face the ribbing from our friends?”
I snort. “Don’t think we have much choice. Even if we duck out now, we’ll see them all at some point, probably not together like this, and that means solo teasing. I’d much rather go through that as a united front and get it over with all at once.”
Holding hands, we walk back down to the bar, Gunnar leading the way. Tom starts whistling, and Erik and Gary both cheer while everyone else claps. Gunnar strolls through the middle of the group, leans against the bar, pulls me against his chest, and wraps his arms around me. “Go ahead, get it out of your system.”
Erik elbows Gunnar. “Just tell me you cleaned up after yourself. I don’t want to slip in anything when I go get my coat.” Gunnar just grins.
Stef smirks. “Don’t worry about it.” They share some kind of look with Blake. “It happens to the best of us.”
I hold up a hand and shake my head. “No. I don’t want to know.”
Stef laughs. “What do you think those little crystal bowls are for?”
Blake pulls Stef close and kisses them. “Stop giving away our secrets.”
Tom comes to my rescue, changing the subject. “Well, Gunnar.” Tom eyes him appraisingly. “Who knew beneath that grumpy exterior beats the heart of an exotic dancer?”
Astrid’s hand shoots up. “I did!”
Gary raises his as well. “Boyfriend privileges.”
“Gunnar took dance lessons with me for years, when we were younger.” Astrid grins. “He hated every minute of it, but I didn’t want to go alone. I made him come with me.”
I lean back so he can hear me. “Why did you hate it?”
Astrid chuckles. “He was one of only a few boys in the class, and all the girls wanted him to be their partner. He hated the attention.”
“Well, you obviously picked up some dance moves. Damn, Osouf, never in a million years would I have expected anything like that display.” Tom imitates a few of Gunnar’s moves, making everyone laugh.
Gunnar holds up a hand, wincing. “Please stop. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
We’re done dancing on the main floor, so we move the party back upstairs and spend the rest of the evening hanging out and dancing in the private lounge. A slow song plays, and Gunnar pulls me into his arms. Swaying to the music, we kiss softly, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. “Thank you for tonight. This was amazing.”
“You’re welcome.” Gunnar looks over his shoulder. “Seems like everything is starting to wind down.” He chuckles. “We aren’t as young as we used to be.”
I snuggle against him and rest my cheek against his chest. “True. And I am getting sleepy. But let’s leave after this song. Because I’m not ready for this magical evening to end.”
36
Gunnar
Bjornholdsoutadripping pot, and I grab it, wondering again how we got stuck with dish duty. Laughter drifts in from the living room, and I crane my neck to see what’s happening. Bjorn grins at me. “Jocelin fits seamlessly into our motley crew.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask why he thought that wouldn’t be the case, but I stop myself. I must not do a good job of hiding my annoyance, though, because Bjorn drains the sink and shuts off the faucet, then leans a hip against the counter. “I’m glad you found him. It’s nice to see you happy.”
It’s the last thing I expect him to say, and my annoyance fizzles away. “Thanks.” I take longer than needed to dry the last pot so I have time to reframe our conversation. “He found me, though.”
“Ah, that’s right. You were fake, fake-boyfriends.” We both grin. “He’s good for you. And it seems like you’re really good for him.” Bjorn sighs and glances toward the living room before turning a bittersweet smile my way. “You’ve all found your people. Everyone’s a grown-assed adult now, with your own lives and shit.”
