Page 37 of Breakneck
“I thought you were done with peopling.”
I jabbed my thumb at the hotel behind us. “With that kind of peopling, yes. I need to unwind.”
In fact, I needed to get laid. Rosebud hosted these regular exclusive parties together with Rafaelo, one of the prominent escort companies in the city. It was a sure shot. I’d had some of my most satisfying encounters in the darkroom and the upstairs bedrooms at Rosebud.
Terrance glowered at me darkly but said nothing. He settled in the passenger seat, facing the traffic, as judgment continued to come off him in waves.
A huge plus of Rafaelo nights at Rosebud was the clientele. The escorts had the right to veto anyone on the guest list, and the club had a zero-tolerance policy against harassment—meaning if you were caught being obnoxious once, you were blacklisted. These rules ensured everybody could relax and have a good time while the asswipes stayed out.
Since I was popular with the boys and always treated them like royalty, I had a standing invitation; there was no need to RSVP. Being nice paid off.
The driver let us out right by the door, and Terrance rushed me past the two buff security guards who wished me a pleasant evening.
“What’s the hurry?” I asked.
“Getting you off the street. Do I assume correctly that the purpose of this visit is to find a sexual partner?”
He sounded so proper. “Or partners.”
“This is the place you met Toby Olsen, remember?”
“Who?”
Terrance paused in the hallway in front of a heavy red velvet curtain. The beat from the dance floor behind it resonated through the walls.
“The guy who wanted to share a video blog about seducing you.”
“Ah. Toby, the screamer. In my defense, I thought he was an escort. There’s plenty of them here, and they’re always discreet.”
His blue eyes flashed in the dark, and he bared his teeth. He really was on edge tonight.
“You’re not inviting anyone home. You’re not letting them videotape or take a picture of you. You’ll ask for their full name and occupation, and you’ll message that to me. If you want privacy with someone, I need to know where you’re going, and I’ll wait by the exit.”
No fucking way in hell was I treating a hookup that way. An alternative plan was already forming in my head. “Sure. Whatever you say, Terrance.”
He squinted at me suspiciously then entered the club first.
The familiar scents made me sigh. There were so many young omegas, so many wet holes and sweaty dancing bodies. Most of them were half naked, writhing on the dance floor, either in the arms of some alpha, or together,teasing each other, groping and kissing. What else was dancing at clubs other than endless public foreplay?
Terrance hovered, stone-faced, as I made my way to the bar. I already recognized a few faces, and they recognized me. I could pick and choose tonight.
The difficult part would be finding someone for Terrance if he continued acting like a damned priest.
By the bar, I ordered a couple of Manhattans.
“Lovely seeing you here.”
The bright voice came from the left, beside Terrance. I turned around to see who it was, only to discover the omega was gazing at Terrance with stars in his eyes.
Terrance blanched. “Zach?”
Well, hello!
The omega was gorgeous, dressed in the shortest shorts I’d ever seen and a cropped sheer top, showcasing a juicy body. He grinned brightly at my bodyguard then grew suspicious when he wasn’t getting the reaction he’d wanted. Was he one of the Rafaelo boys? If so, how did he know Terrance?
Maybe getting Terrance laid wouldn’t be so difficult after all.
TERRANCE
