Page 100 of Hidden Desires
“What?” Ace asked, confused by the odd statement.
He glanced down at Blade until his eyes landed on the massive hard-on currently pointed at his face.
Was this what it felt like to be “held at dick point”?
A wicked smile spread across Ace’s face. It was time for his ass to get destroyed.
“How about we take this to the bedroom?” Ace asked, pushing against Blade’s shoulders in an effort to get his heavy body off him.
Blade chuckled. “I see someone is in a hurry to have their ass stretched out and their prostate assaulted.”
“Yes. That. Now get off me so I can go grab the lube.”
The time for chatting was over. The time for dicking was now.
32
BLADE
When one thinks of a Latino/Asian gang hideout, one usually doesn’t think of a large desert pit, surrounded by flaming oil drums, broken-down cars, and at least forty drunk and rowdy Latino/Asian gangsters cheering around a homemade fight club.
Blade could see the appeal. Being in the desert, they were not bothered by the public, authorities, or pesky social media influencers making an ass out of themselves while dancing around in a grocery store or walking around the city asking people stupid questions. Blade loved a good joke, same as any dude, but he had trouble finding the shit he saw on social media funny, even when the rest of the droned-out viewers thought so.
He parked his bike next to a dark-colored SUV and killed the engine.
“Wasn’t sure you’d show,” a deep voice said behind him.
Blade turned around and instantly recognized him as the man he had met in the hospital.
“Thought I would come and listen to the boss’s offer. See if it’s worth me leaving my crew.” Blade didn’t want to seem too aloof or overly excited. He needed the man to believe that he wasthere because he was actually interested in possibly joining the man’s crew… if the price was right.
The man nodded.
“Follow me.”
Blade followed the man toward the large gathering of drunk and cheering partyers. They all stood in a large circle, drinking beers and smoking pot as they cheered at something happening at their feet.
As they approached the crowd, Blade realized that they were all standing around a large sand pit, cheering on two bloodied men who were battling it out in the crater below.
“Are you a betting man?” a heavily tanned man asked as they approached a large, plush chair that sat on a homemade platform about four feet above the ground.
There was just enough height so the man could see over the people and down into the pit.
The man was Latino, probably just over six feet, with tattoos running along the right side of his face and covering the entirety of his right pec muscle. To say the dude looked scary was an understatement.
In addition to the fear the tattoos brought, the man also had a nasty-looking scar that ran across the length of his stomach.
Blade stared at the man, wondering about the question.
“Only on poker and whether or not I’m going to catch an STI from my one-night stand.”
The scary-looking man grinned at him. It seemed that he had given the correct answer.
“I see you get your sarcastic mouth from your father.”
Blade’s eyes narrowed. Just the thought of his dad made his blood boil.
The man raised a hand in defense.
