Kit
Lights strobed across the dance floor of Ignite, highlighting swaths of naked chests, rippling backs, upraised arms. Men were dancing—some just grinding—to the thumping bass.
What was I doing here? I was entirely out of place in my casual work attire of jeans and a bright teal polo.
I nudged my drink aside and pulled out my phone to check for texts with Dakota. It was her fault I was here. I reread the stream that had sent me on this silly goose chase.
Dakota: You should get out while you’re in Omaha.
Me: I’m here for work.
Dakota: Might as well make the most of it. You don’t get out enough.
Me: Nah, I’m fine.
Dakota: Go out and pretend you have a life already! If you don’t, I’ll tell Manny you’d love to go on a date. He thinks you’re cute.
Me: Don’t you dare!
Dakota: Have fun tonight 😉
My sister was diabolical. I’d never met someone who was better at getting their way. That’d been true even before she was in a wheelchair. Now that so many people fixated on her injury, she said she might as well use the one advantage she got out of it. She was kidding. Mostly.
So, when my meeting ended at the Nebraska Institute for Spinal Rehabilitation, I’d grabbed dinner with a few of the other doctors, then obediently pulled up a web search for gay clubs.
Ignite was a top result. It got great reviews for its cocktails. I hadn’t read much further. I probably should have because this was really not my scene. I worked with bodies every day, putting them through their physical paces. I considered myself relatively athletic. And yet seeing how some of those men moved on the dance floor? Maybe I’d gotten so used to my patients with limited mobility that I’d forgotten what the human body could do because damn.
Someone stepped up beside me at the bar, but I didn’t look over. The place was packed, and people had been coming and going from the bar to refresh drinks. I was the odd one out, the guy who was clinging to the bar like some kind of lifeline.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
I glanced over, then did a double take. This guy was smoking hot. He had dark brown hair, a little sweaty and shoved back from his face, exposing the sharp cut of cheekbones and full lips. He wore a tight tank top that molded to his trim shape, broad shoulders and a few peeks at a tattoo visible above the neckline.
I stared too long.
His lips quirked. “Is that a yes? I can’t tell.”
“Sorry.” I chuckled, heat flushing my cheeks. “Just a little overstimulated. Yes, you can buy me a drink. Hell, yes.”
He grinned, and damn, this guy was a knock-out. He was a few years younger than me, maybe twenty-four to my twenty-seven. Despite the smile, there was an intensity to his eyes that suggested this guy had seen some shit in his life.
He motioned the bartender over. The big guy in a tight-fitting T-shirt had been hard to flag down earlier, but he came right away for this guy. And who wouldn’t?
“Hey, we’d like a couple of drinks.”
“A seven and seven for me,” I volunteered.
“Another Vodka Red Bull too,” the guy at my side said. He turned, one corner of his mouth hooked up. “I like the sweet stuff. Don’t judge.”
“I’m not the judgy type.” My gaze traveled over his chest down to the snug fit of his jeans. “And if I did, my comment card would be full of compliments.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Hot, fills out his clothes just right, makes me trip over my tongue. Ten of ten. Would recommend.”
He laughed. “You’re doing pretty good with your tongue, from what I can see.”
A wave of heat crashed through me. “So, uh, what—I mean, do you want—” I broke off with a huff. “Dancing?”
The bartender set our drinks on the bar top. My guy pulled out his wallet and tossed a couple of twenties down. He didn’t seem too worried about money.
“You’re cute,” he said. “Drink up. If you want to dance, we’ll dance. If you want something else…”
My stomach flipped. I knew what that something else was. I wanted it. Bad. But it had been a while since I’d made time for it. I was out of practice, and a guy like this? He was very much in practice, judging by the looks he was getting.
Still, I wasn’t going to let that stop me.
I raised my glass and took a healthy gulp of my seven and seven. The alcohol went to my head, but I wasn’t about to sip my way through it and risk losing his interest.
He drank down his vodka just as quickly, eyes locked over me over the rim. That gaze was as intoxicated as the gin. I set my glass down with a clink. “Done.”
He lowered his glass. “What’ll it be? Dance or…”
“One dance,” I said. “I, uh, need to warm up. I’m a little…out of my depth here.”
He stood and held out his hand. “No worries. We can get nice and hot on the dance floor. The next move is your call.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You want to hook up, though?”
“Only if you do. I’m not really into reluctant partners.”
“I’m not reluctant,” I said, probably too quickly, as I jumped up and grabbed his hand. “Just…I don’t do this a lot.”
He led me onto the dance floor and pulled me close, setting his hands on my waist. We were about the same height, making it easy to look him in the eye as I slipped my hands onto those broad shoulders. My heart thumped in time with the base.
Our hips rolled together, setting me ablaze like a damn Fourth of July sparkler. Muscle memory took over, and my body moved to the music. Moved with him, following his every lead, because damn, it really, really wanted him.
“You’re a real hustler, you know that?” he said.
My gaze flew to his. “What?”
“Acting all shy and like you’re out of practice.” He squeezed his hands around my hips. “You’ve got all the moves.”
I rolled my hips again, my cock hard and aching as it brushed against the bulge in his jeans. “Guess I’m all warmed up.”
“Yeah?” His hands slipped down to my ass, holding me tight against him, making me throb in my jeans. A whimpery noise escaped me. “You ready to take this off the dance floor?”
“Yeah,” I said, voice breathy. “But…where? I don’t live here.”
“I’ve got a car outside. Something tells me you’re not the type to want an audience.”
“Maybe I’m a little shy still,” I admitted.
He nodded. “Let’s go then.”
I followed him, jerked out of my lust haze when he stopped by a monstrous yellow Hummer. “Seriously?”
“Please don’t judge me for the car.” He took out a key fob and hit the unlock button. The taillights flashed. “I didn’t choose it. It’s just the only car my parents will let me borrow.” He rolled his eyes, looking younger suddenly. “That makes me sound pathetic, doesn’t it?”
I grinned. “Well, a little, but it got you here, so I’m not complaining.”
He pulled open the back passenger door. “Then get in.”
I hesitated. “I feel like I should at least ask your name before getting into a car with you.” I held out a hand to shake. “My friends call me Kit.”
He took my hand and squeezed it once. “My friends call me Joyride.”
“Joyride?” That was an odd nickname. “Is that because of how you drive or how you fuck?”
“Only one way to find out,” he said.
I climbed into the car embarrassingly fast. All thoughts of strange nicknames gone in the flood of hormones demanding that yes, I wanted to find out.
He followed me in, and I realized—belatedly—that he’d ushered me into the back seat. We weren’t driving anywhere, were we? The car was parked in a dark corner of the lot. The windows were tinted.
Joyride crawled over me, caging me in beneath his body.
“You good?” he asked as I looked up at him.
Stubble dotted the underside of his jaw and I lifted my head, unable to resist grazing my lips over it. He shivered.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice full of gravel. “I’m really fucking good.”
I slipped my hands under the tank top, pushing it up and up, and reveling in the smooth, supple heat of sweaty skin. Joyride yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. I caught a glimpse of a tiger face and some Latin script tattooed on his chest, but then he cupped my dick through my jeans and everything grew hot and urgent. I pressed my lips to his chest, flicking out my tongue to taste him wherever I could reach, while he unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans.
We hadn’t talked yet about where this would go. I should have probably cared, but I’d be up for anything he wanted. I slid my hands down the back of his jeans, cupping his ass, and flipped us.
He gasped, looking stunned, and it was about time I put that look on his face. “Where do you stand on kissing?”
“I’m all for it.”
I took his mouth in a bruising kiss, drawing a groan from him as our tongues brushed. He tasted delicious. No wonder he liked those sweet drinks. I sucked the flavor from his tongue while he worked my jeans open.
He curled his fingers around my cock, tugging it from my briefs and out into the cooler air of the Hummer. My breath stuttered and I broke the kiss to breathe hard into his neck.
“Take my mouth,” he said.
I raised up, thinking he meant another kiss, but then he licked his lips, gaze flicking down to my dick, and goddamn, no wonder this club was called Ignite, because I was going to burn the fuck up.
I shimmied up his body, hunched over to avoid the ceiling, but luckily Hummers were pretty roomy. If someone had told me I’d be getting a hummer in a Hummer tonight, I would have laughed them off. Life was strange sometimes.
Joyride’s lips were soft and glistening from the tongue he’d run over them. I couldn’t resist. I took hold of my cock and ran the tip over his bottom lip. His tongue flicked out, stealing a taste. His eyes were locked on me, daring me to take everything I wanted.
Fuck.
I surged inside, sliding over his silky tongue, eyes rolling back at the sweet heat that swamped me. Joyride groaned throatily. I rocked my hips, pushing a little deeper. He seemed to have mastered his gag reflex, though. He took me into his throat and swallowed around me.
“Joy,” I gasped. “Fuck.”
He grabbed my ass, pulled me deep. Encouraging me to take everything I wanted. I threaded my hands through his hair to hold him still and ravaged his mouth, thrusting deep and fast—pulling back only long enough for him to suck in a breath—then plunging right back into that sweet mouth.
His arm jostled my thigh. I glanced down. He’d worked open his jeans and was jerking his dick, the tip drooling precum because he was so turned on.
I drew back a fraction. “Oh, baby, that’s so hot. Does sucking me make you want to come?”
He made a broken sound of need. I wrapped my left hand around his, helping him stroke, while I thrust my dick deeper into his throat. He gave a strangled shout, throat squeezing, and my balls drew up tight.
“Shit, I’m gonna—”
I couldn’t draw back fast enough. My cock unloaded over his tongue, pouring down his throat. He spluttered and swallowed and shuddered, warmth splashing my thigh. His cock pulsed in our hands, spilling over with his climax.
I pulled out of his mouth, distantly aware that I should have asked before coming down his throat. Should have offered to wear a condom. Something.
My head was stuffed with cotton, not quite firing on all cylinders. I couldn’t stop looking at his slick, swollen lips. I dropped down to kiss him once more.
He let me push my tongue in and taste him. Let me suck his bottom lip. He was malleable, a little soft. When I glanced up, there was something fragile about his expression.
“Was that okay?” I asked. “I should have asked about condoms. Sorry.”
“I’m on PReP. It’s fine.” His voice came out wrecked. “Don’t worry, Kit. It was just what the doctor ordered.”
I chuckled. “You’re right. I’m the doctor.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said. This guy didn’t care if I was a doctor of physical therapy. He was a hookup. We’d probably never see each other again. It made me a little sad. “You come here often?”
“In my Hummer?”
“To Ignite?” I said with a little laugh.
“Not really,” he said.
I waited a beat, but he didn’t offer anymore information. “Me either,” I said. “Guess this is a one-time thing.”
He ran his hands though my hair. “But what a good time it was.”
“Mmm.”
“I’m such a sucker for a redhead,” he said.
I drew back. “Excuse you, my hair is auburn.”
He grinned. “My mistake. I’m a sucker for men with auburn hair and freckled dicks.”
“It’s way too dark to see freckles on my dick,” I protested, even though, yes, they were there. Damn it. I hated those freckles.
“Must have been my imagination,” he said lightly. Then pushed up. “I should get going. It’s pretty late, and I’ve got a drive ahead of me to get home.”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “Me too.”
I considered asking for his number, but something told me he wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. It wasn’t like I had a lot of room in my life for a relationship either.
I definitely didn’t have the time to commute back and forth to Omaha. Not when my sister lived in Riverton with me.
My phone buzzed with a text. I glanced down.
Dakota: Snug as a bug in bed. Take your time, Kittie Kat.
Kit: I’m headed home soon.
Dakota: Take your time.
I glanced up from my phone. “I gotta…”
Joyride was already leaning across me to open the door. “Thanks for a good time. Drive safe, okay?”
“I will” I climbed out of the car and dropped to the pavement. He followed me out. “I guess I know how you go that nickname now.”
He smiled faintly. “Nah, I’m not that good in the sack.”
“You’re pretty damn good,” I argued.
“Me? You’re the guy who pretended to be shy and then fucked my mouth like he owned it.”
My face heated. I had been rather presumptuous. “Sorry.”
“It was hot, Freckles. I’m not complaining.”
“Maybe we’ll see each other again sometime,” I said, even as I knew it would never happen.
“Yeah, maybe,” he said, sounding as if he believed it as much as I did.
I turned away reluctantly, not even close to satisfied with the small amount of time I’d spent with him. Maybe it was time to date again. A pit was opening in my stomach.
I glanced back over my shoulder, nearly blinded as the Hummer’s lights came on. The motor rumbled to life.
Joyride drove out of my life.
But that was okay. Dakota was waiting at home. That’s where I belonged. By her side.
My sister was nearly killed five years ago in a terrible car accident. Every day with her now was a gift.
I didn’t need anything else.