Page 21 of Fire Me Up
Not that I had any reason to hope for intimacy. He hadn’t kissed me once this week, so I had to assume we were just… I don’t know. Grinding on each other for hours as friends?
I followed Dylan up the narrow staircase, trying not to stare at the sweat glistening on his back or the way his tattoos shifted over muscle with each step. My heart hammered as I forced myself to think about non-sexy things so my erection would go away. Like… caterpillars.
The music faded to a dull thump beneath us as we climbed, and I took deep breaths to calm my raging libido. It wasn’t working.
“Almost there,” Dylan called over his shoulder, blissfully unaware of my internal crisis.
The staircase opened onto a rooftop lounge that felt like another world compared to the pulsing club below. String lights zigzagged overhead, casting a warm glow over scattered couches and low tables. The air was cooler here, a soft breeze peeling heat from my skin. People lounged in small groups, drinks in hand, conversations humming.
“Let’s grab a spot. You good?” Dylan said, catching my wrist and tugging me toward an empty couch in the corner. His fingers were cool against my skin, and I tried not to focus on how muchI wanted those fingers elsewhere. “Sit. I’ll grab us something to drink.”
I sank into the plush cushions, watching him weave through the crowd toward the bar. Without his shirt, his lean torso drew appreciative glances from nearly everyone he passed. The geometric tattoo wrapping his ribs disappeared into his waistband, and I found myself desperately curious about where it ended.
I groaned and dragged my hands through my hair, tipping my head back. What the fuck was happening to me? Dancing with Dylan these past few days had been the sexiest experience of my life. I couldn’t think of anything that even came close—not even actual sex. The way our bodies fit together, the heat between us, the rhythm we’d found without trying. It felt natural in a way nothing had ever felt before.
And that terrified me.
I wasn’t just attracted to Dylan. Every instinct screamed for more—more contact, more friction, more of his skin against mine. I wanted to taste the sweat at his neck, feel his hands grip my hips harder, push beyond the teasing touches we shared on the dance floor.
But I had no fucking clue what I was doing or whether he’d be into that. He certainly didn’t seem to be trying. I was out of my depth, and Dylan probably knew it. He’d offered to be my guide, not my hookup—and certainly not my boyfriend. I knew I was reading too much into his casual flirting.
“Well, hello there, handsome.”
I looked up to find a glittery vision standing over me—the guy Dylan had talked to outside the club the other day. Tonight, his jumpsuit was iridescent silver; up close, it was even more dazzling, catching the light with every slight movement. Platinum hair, expertly done makeup—he was gorgeous. He wasn’t Dylan.
“I’m Mike.” He dropped onto the couch beside me, smile bright and inviting. “And you must be Dylan’s ‘friend’ he was waiting for. The one who’s ‘just alright.’” He made air quotes.
“Gael,” I said, offering my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“So Dylan says you’re a bottom, is that right? I mean, it explains why he’s chasing you.” He pouted dramatically. “But what a waste of all those muscles.”
Heat crept up my neck. “I, uh—I’m not really sure what that means, actually. Or any of it.”
Mike’s eyes widened. “Oh, honey, you really are new! How delicious.”
“I don’t think Dylan is chasing me,” I said.
“A cute, blushing muscle bottom would be exactly his type. I mean, he fucks twinks too, but he likes his boys thick.”
My mouth went dry as I pictured Dylan on top of me, driving into me. Before I could respond, Mike scooted closer, his thigh pressing against mine. His cologne—sweet, expensive—wrapped around me.
He laughed, patting my knee. “But I have to say, you really don’t strike me as a bottom.”
“I’m not sure what I am,” I admitted.
“Oh, that’s even better.” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Means you get to try everything until you figure it out. I’d be happy to help with that experimentation, if you’re looking.”
His hand slid up my thigh, and I froze. Mike was attractive, and his confidence appealing, but he didn’t make my heart race like Dylan.
“I appreciate the offer, but—”
“But he’s with me tonight,” Dylan’s voice cut in. He stood over us, two brightly colored drinks in hand, his expression darkening as he clocked Mike’s hand on my thigh.
Mike withdrew his hand slowly, smirking up at him. “Just making conversation with your ‘friend.’ Letting him know hisoptions.” He emphasized friend with enough innuendo to be crystal clear.
Dylan set the drinks down a little too hard. “He’s got all the options he needs.”
“Clearly.” Mike stood, smoothing his sparkles. “You’re in good hands. He’s a fantastic top. Fucks so hard.”
