Page 44 of The Best Men

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I want more of it.

I get closer, my right thigh wedging between his legs as my hands travel up and down those strong arms. His eyes open and he stares like he can’t get enough of me.

Of the way I’m touching him.

It’s illogical to think I’m any good at this.

But logic has left the club.

I don’t need to be rational right now.

I can be . . . impulsive.

And Impulsive Mark listens to Captain Filthy Mind, who says to just grind against the superhot wingman.

Here I go.

As I press my crotch against his, we dance in a whole new way.

And it is insane.

We become all these other guys in the club, and I’m finally having what I want.

This wasn’t even on my spreadsheet. I never put dirty dancing on my list.

But already, this is the sexiest thing I’ve ever done in my life, as our hard cocks rub together through our clothes.

It’s mind-bending.

It’s circuit-frying.

It’s so fucking good, I hardly know what to do next.

I just don’t want to stop.

So I don’t.

I dance unabashedly, shamelessly, with a man in a club in Miami.

For the next few songs, our bodies collide, hands, limbs, arms, legs. But soon, it’s not enough at all.

I have to have more. I rope my hands around his neck, then bring my mouth to his ear, my jaw brushing along his as I go, electrifying me. He hauls my crotch closer to his, letting me know that whatever I’m going to say he’s already given me his yes.

But he speaks first. “Mark,” he says, loud enough for me to hear. He hardly ever just calls me Mark.

I pull back. “Yeah?”

“I wasn’t teasing you in your bedroom. Not one bit. I was dead serious. Still am.”

I needed that. “Good. I’d like to change my answer then.”

Then I show him my yes.

I smash my lips to his, and my world ignites.

Colors burst, my brain goes haywire, and my entire body thanks me for giving in at last. He tastes incredible, and I feel amazing.

Every. Fucking. Where.

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