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)
Hop moved to the DJ’s tunes, in turn grinding on the body in front of him or leaning against the sweaty chest behind him. Sandwiched between two wannabe leather daddies, he reveled in the heat as sweat slicked his skin. Their hands explored his chest and hips getting excitingly close to his cock. Their mouths scorched his neck and bare shoulder as they rubbed their crotches into him. The air was heavy, a mix of desire and exhilaration as addicting as the music.
He sank into the trance. The club was packed to bursting and had been since way before the Sassy Boyz’ performances earlier. Switch was a perfect playground. Obviously, he wasn’t the only one who thought so.
Part of Hop hated how much he loved it.
A big part.
Resentment soured his mood so he danced harder, chasing the adrenaline high he needed to forget where he was. It was bad enough he had to perform here every night, he didn’t need to voluntarily spend his spare time in the one place in New York he should be avoiding at all costs.
Except it was fucking perfect.
Goddamn it.
“You’re a kinky hellion, aren’t you?” The guy behind him spoke loudly in Hop’s ear. Hop hadn’t bothered to get his name. Even if the night ended in bed, names would be irrelevant.
Hop laughed and spun to face him. “Baby, my freak-streak runs as deep as the Grand Canyon.”
“I bet you fuck like a fairy on acid.” His smile was all expectation and no delivery. This guy didn’t have what Hop needed.
“You’ll never find out, Daddy.” He patted the guy’s cheek.
The guy’s thick fingers dug into Hop’s arms hard enough to bruise. “Dick tease,” he said, pushing Hop.
Even in five-inch heels, Hop was quick on his feet. He turned as gracefully as he could and smiled at Front Guy, whose biceps looked delicious in his tight T-shirt. “Guess I’m too much for him. How ’bout you, babe? Can you handle me?”
Front Guy smirked and pulled him closer with those big arms. “I doubt anyone can.”
“Good answer.” Hop pressed in so they swayed as one.
“You were amazing. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.” He leaned in enough so his breath fanned Hop’s cheek. It smelled of stale beer and something salty.
Hop forced himself to reply. “That’s sweet.”
As much as he loved a good flattery shower, the compliment was wasted on him. He knew he was the worst member of the group. He still hadn’t reached the level of grace and stamina the other Sassy Boyz achieved. For them, picking up choreo seemed to come easy. And yeah, Hop loved dance—breathed it, but he had to work his ass off to be at their level. One day they’d finally realize he was dragging them down.
“I didn’t take you for the modest type.”
“I’m full of surprises.” Hop was already searching the crowd for distraction. One of the worst things about partying at the same place you worked? Über-fans, who expected you to eat the attention up. In reality, it was super awkward to smile and nod when all you wanted to do was be anonymous.
Hop didn’t want the reminder of his inadequacy. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want his behavior to reflect on the group. He didn’t want to think.
He wanted to dance.
He wanted to indulge.
He wanted to be bad. ’Cause he was so damn good at it.
And this was another reason he needed to stop fucking around at Switch after hours.
From the corner of his eye he spotted movement on the balcony high above the main floor.
Rafe Marson.
Hop’s fists tightened. His gaze was drawn to the solid imposing shadow against his will.
Fucking Rafe.
Hop gritted his teeth and tracked Rafe’s loose gait until he disappeared into the darkness of the stairwell.
The tiny glimpse sent angry sparks of wild emotions storming through him. He was tempting fate. It was part of what kept him coming back. Each time he got away with partying at Switch, right under Rafe’s nose, it filled him with a high that kept him floating for days. The ultimate form of rebellion, even if it was in secret.
After all, Rafe was his boss now. Rafe had also held the number two spot on Hop’s grudge list for seven fucking years.
Like a train wreck waiting to happen, it was just a matter of time before those things clashed. Being the gluttonous masochist he was, the anticipation of the inevitable destruction was more than Hop could resist.
So he stayed. He danced his heart out.
And he waited.
* * *
The next morning Hop shuffled into the kitchen with a pounding headache so bad he had to squint against the bright morning light reflected off the butter-yellow walls. His brain was fuzzy and his asshole burned—must have been one hell of a night. It’d been a long time since he’d partied so hard he needed to wear sunglasses simply to open the fridge.