Page 39 of Sinful Nights
The guys at the table in front of me start talking and interrupt my thoughts.
“Damn, that guy is hot.”
“I bet he has a tight little hole.”
“God, I could fuck him all night and not kick him out till morning.”
Gritting my teeth, I try to ignore them. I know they’re assholes and Cole has no idea what they’re saying, but hearing them talk about him this way has my heart pounding and my fists clenching. Breathing through my nose, I close my eyes, knowing I can’t fuck this up for Cole. I can’t be the reason he misses out on tips because I can’t handle what they’re saying.
“I bet he screams loudly.”
“I’d shove my cock so far down his throat, he’d be crying.”
“Fuck it, he’s the one I’m going to try to take home tonight.”
Pounding my fist on the table, I get up off the booth, bee-lining for the assholes when my brain finally kicks back into gear and I know I can’t say anything. Spinning around, I head straight for Preston, ordering a whiskey.
“You okay?” he asks, sliding the glass across the counter.
“Just peachy,” I mutter, turning around and glaring at the table of men again. “Fucking assholes.”
“I guess I’m missing something,” Preston chuckles, looking behind me to see who I was staring at.
“Those guys at the table over there, talking shit.”
“What the fuck? Like what? Are they being mean? Do I need to go get Jonas?” He asks, standing up on his tiptoes and scanning the room, looking for his other half. He knows Jonas would kick anyone out in two seconds if Preston told him to.
“No, it’s nothing like that. They’re just gossiping about how hot Cole is and how badly they want to fuck him.”
Preston snickers, tilting his head. “Isn’t that what ninety-nine percent of the people who come here do? Fantasize about going home with the dancers? Or am I getting that wrong?”
“No, you’re right, it’s just…ugh,” I groan, putting my glass onto the counter and raking my hands through my hair. “It’s just what they’re saying about Cole. Bragging about how they want to fuck him and are planning to bring him home.”
“Hmm, you sound a little jealous.” I wordlessly glance up at Preston, whose mouth forms a small ‘O.’ “Oh my god,” he whispers, placing his hand over mine. “You’re jealous.”
“It would appear so.” I snicker, shaking my head. “Well damn. Don’t say anything to anyone. Please.”
“Of course not. But damn, finally.”
Someone down the counter lifts his hand for Preston’s attention, and he gives my hand one last squeeze before tending to them.
Jealous.
My mind tries to picture one of the guys at the table taking Cole home and touching his body. Growling loudly, I chastise myself. There’s no point in even thinking about it; there’s no way it would happen. The music transitions to another song, and I watch as Cole makes his way through the audience, saying hito customers and collecting his tips. He reaches the table full of assholes, who talk to him right away.
The smile on his face falls, a fake one put straight into place. One of the guys tries to touch Cole, and he easily dodges his touch as he moves to the side. Another guy shouts something at Cole, his hand touching Cole’s arm. I’m about to jump off the stool when Cole’s eyes turn to ice. He says a few words to the men, looking them dead in the eye, before snatching their money and walking away. His gaze finds mine immediately, a genuine smile playing on his face.
“Hi,” he says, approaching me.
“Hi,” I echo. My vision drifts to the table with the men, and Cole follows my direction before huffing.
“They were drunk. And obnoxious. But nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“I saw, thought I might have to rescue you.” I say, trailing one of my fingers down his arm. His body shivers from my touch, and I smile, growing more impatient to take him home.
Cole laughs, shaking his head. “We’re about the same damn size.”
“I can’t help it if I want to protect you.”
