IF SOMEONE HAD told me last month that I would be voluntarily spending a weeknight in the East Village in some dungeon-looking poetry café, I would’ve called them fucking crazy.
I didn’t do shit like this. Ride the train. Eat my pizza standing. Walk up some dodgy alley where I may or may not get mugged. Or sit in seriously uncomfortable seats for hours and listen to people pour out their emotions in energetic bursts of words that, if I were being honest, made me feel like running for the door at times.
But as I looked at JT, whose attention was riveted to the latest contestant of this slam poetry competition, I knew exactly why I was there.
Or did I?
The thought taunted me as I ran my gaze over the gorgeous man seated beside me. The line between bet and reality blurred more and more with every day that passed by—that much was obvious by my current surroundings. If I’d just told the guys I’d sealed the deal with the golden boy this past weekend, then I wouldn’t be sitting here wondering if I was going to have to make an appointment with my chiropractor later this week.
But here I was, in a building I’d paid fifteen whole bucks to have the privilege of sitting in, and despite all of that, I was enjoying myself.
Which raised the question… Why?
The bar was a plus, I hadn’t expected that when JT had said it was a poetry “café.” I’d imagined a quiet little group of creative types spouting limericks and sonnets in some coffee house that would bore me to tears. But I’d been really fucking excited when I learned that wasn’t the case at all. This place served alcohol and even had a DJ.
But still, that was hardly enough for me to deem this a good time.
The three-minute buzzer went off, jarring me out of my thoughts, as the latest poet concluded her monologue and JT began cheering and clapping along with the rest of the crowd. His eyes were bright and full of excitement, and there it was—the exact reason for my good time.
JT Hawthorne. Who fucking knew?
I sure as hell hadn’t seen that coming. But he was making a mess of my head, not to mention my revenge plan, which apparently I didn’t give a shit about anymore with the way I had been skipping out on my friends and dodging their calls.
Or maybe I just wanted to enjoy the fruits of my hard labor before handing him over to the rest of those vultures. But as I ran my eyes over JT’s soft curls, the joyful expression on his face, and the tight, compact body I’d had under mine last weekend, my heart thumped a little harder, and I knew that for the lie it was.
Fuck.
This was not good. I mean, it was good. JT was good, and so were the conversations and hours I spent with him. It was easy, comfortable, and for the first time in my life, I felt as though the person I was hooking up with was actually in it for me. Not the prestige, not to ladder-climb, and not for my money.
I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated where my thoughts were taking me. Since when did I care why someone was with me? As long as we both had a good time and got what we came for, why did it matter?
JT glanced at me, no doubt sensing my attention had shifted from the stage.
“You’re supposed to be watching them.” He grinned and gestured toward the front of the café, where the next poet was moving up to take their spot.
I leaned over to place my mouth close by his ear. “I thought I was here to watch poetry.”
“You are.”
“Then don’t you worry, I’m getting my money’s worth.”
JT snorted then leaned back to look me in the eye. “Did you seriously just say watching me is poetry?”
I shrugged, flashing him a smile. “I don’t know—will it get me laid if I did?”
JT’s eyes widened and then he shoved me in the arm. “West.”
I grabbed his wrist before he could pull it away. “You didn’t answer the question.”
People moved in and out of the rows surrounding us, and when someone bumped into the back of my chair, I winced.
JT bit back a laugh. “I’m not sure you’re up to getting laid. How’s your back doing?”
“My back is just fine, and getting up around you is never a problem.”
JT’s breath caught, and when the lights flashed, signaling the next slam session was about to begin, I made a decision.
“Come with me.”
“What?”
I took his hand, and the second our fingers touched, JT entwined his with mine.
“Come with me,” I said again as I moved to my feet, and when someone behind us called out, “Sit down or move,” JT quickly followed.
I led him toward the back of the seating area, making sure not to step on anyone that was huddled on the floor—yeah, people were sitting on the floor.
“Did you want another drink?” JT asked, but as we by passed the crowd gathered around the bar, I kept on going.
“No, just a little quiet, that’s all.” That wasn’t it at all, and judging by JT’s smirk, he knew it. Since when had I, Mister Playboy Party Guy, ever needed a little quiet?
What I needed was to taste JT’s lips, and I wanted to do it without someone’s impassioned poem about religion being the root cause of indifference.
I scanned the crowded café, searching for anywhere that wasn’t shoulder to shoulder with people, and finally spotted it. An escape from the main floor. A narrow brick hallway that had a sign hanging above it with an arrow that read “Viewing Balcony.”
A second-floor balcony overlooked the stage area, but it was empty tonight, completely shut down, and that seemed like the perfect place to steal a moment alone with my date.
I steered the two of us down the hall, but the stairs had a rope across them and a sign that read “closed.”
JT moved in behind me and placed his chin on my shoulder. “Now what?”
A smile tugged at my lips. “You don’t think that’s going to stop me, do you?”
JT frowned. “But it’s closed.”
I stepped away from him and reached for the rope holding it up. “It’s not a locked door, JT.”
He eyed my hand then looked back down the hall to check no one was coming, and when the coast was clear, he shook his head. “Why do I get the feeling that a locked door wouldn’t deter you anyway?”
He ducked under the rope, and I followed. “Because you know me.”
“Uh huh.” JT started up the stairs, and I couldn’t stop myself from swatting his ass, making him chuckle.
When we reached the balcony, I was happy to see the space wasn’t all that big, and with the lights downstairs the only thing illuminating this area, the shadows danced over the two of us as we crossed the floor.
About halfway across, JT turned to see if I was following, and I was so close behind him that he almost stumbled. I reached out to steady him, and when he placed a palm on my chest and looked up at me, something inside of me snapped.
I slammed my mouth down on his in a fierce kiss, making him moan. The sound was better than any damn poem I’d heard tonight.
His fingers curled into my shirt, and I walked him backward across the floor. When his back met the brick wall, I moved my hands to the belt loops of his jeans and tugged his hips forward. JT slid his hand around my neck and angled his head to let me in deeper. I tasted every corner of his delicious mouth, and the faint hint of the soda was more intoxicating than the bourbon sour I’d finished before coming out tonight.
Jesus, it was like he’d cast a spell over me, the way I craved him. One taste and I wanted more. And with the way my cock stood up and took notice the second he was in a room, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be done.
I moved my hands to his denim-clad ass and squeezed as I wedged one of my legs between his thighs. JT stared up at me, his eyes searching my face as his chest heaved against mine.
“What are you doing?”
I did it again, pressing a little harder this time, and JT moaned and rubbed his hard-on against my thigh.
“I think you know exactly what I’m doing.”
His gaze shifted over my shoulder, then back to my face. “We can’t. Not here.”
“Says who?” I lowered my head and pressed teasing kisses up his neck.
JT shivered. “Says… What do you mean, says who?”
I smiled against his skin, not missing that even though he was protesting, he was still rubbing himself off on my leg.
“I mean…” I brought a hand around to the button of his jeans. “Who’s gonna stop me? You?”
I popped the button open. A shard of light showed enough of JT’s eyes to see his pupils were dilated with arousal.
“Want me to stop?” I slipped my hand inside the denim and his briefs, and when my fingers brushed the head of his cock, he shook his head.
“No.”
I nipped at his lower lip as I curled my fingers around him. “Are you sure?”
JT’s head fell back on the wall, and he twisted his fingers in the back of my hair. “Don’t you dare stop.”
That was all the permission I needed.
I took his mouth again in a scorching kiss, and when JT shoved his dick through my fist, I knew we were set to burn. The flames were licking through my veins as I dragged the denim off his ass to give myself better access. I could hear the faint sound of someone speaking on stage down below. But the blood rushing out of my head to my cock was much louder.
JT licked into my mouth as he rode my thigh, fucking my fist like it was a matter of life or death. I swiped my thumb over his sticky head, then brought my hand to my mouth, licking my thumb clean. JT’s hungry expression had me reaching for my own pants. There was no protest this time, but before things got completely out of control, I grabbed my wallet from my back pocket and pulled out a condom.
JT made a soft scoffing sound.
“You laughing at me?”
He eyed the condom and shook his head. “More like marveling over your preparedness.”
I held it up for him between two fingers. “I told you, I’m always up around you, so it’s best to think ahead.”
JT plucked the packet from my hand, his lips twitching. “Or of your head.”
“That too, if we’re talking about the one you rode all weekend.”
“Fucking hell.” He groaned and tore open the packet, and as he rolled it down me, he looked to the wallet. “I suppose you have a packet of lube too?”
I pulled one free before putting my wallet away. “Don’t tell me you’re mad about it. I won’t believe you.”
JT moved to his toes, his mouth grazing mine. “You really think you can get away with everything, don’t you?”
I grunted and walked him back to the wall, where I spun him around and bumped my cock up against his bare ass. “Well, I’m about to fuck you in a poetry café full of people. So yeah, I do.”
JT braced his hands on the wall and pushed back into me. “And if someone comes?”
I tore open the packet of lube and squeezed it down the crack of his ass. “Two someones are going to come.”
“You know what I mean.”
I did, but he didn’t need to worry. I kissed the top of his spine, and a shiver raced through his body as I stroked a finger up and down the shadowy cleft, getting him nice and slick.
“Money, JT. It’ll get you out of practically everything—including public indecency.”
I spread him apart and nudged the entrance to his body with the tip of my cock, and he grunted. “Got plenty of experience with that, have you?”
I nipped at his shoulder. “Why, jealous?” JT turned his face toward mine, and though his eyes said yes, he stayed silent. “I fucking would be,” I added.
He gasped as I pushed forward, whether from my words or the feel of me breaching that tight ring of muscle, I wasn’t sure, and I crushed our mouths together to take his mind off the initial pain.
There was no time to fool around here. No time to slowly get him ready. Not with the very real risk of being caught only a dozen or so stairs away. I might’ve done a good job at reassuring JT nothing would come of us being caught. But I knew he’d still be mortified if we were, and I didn’t want that. I wanted him to look back on this and remember how fucking hot it was.
When his body started to relax, I slid in further, and when I was balls deep inside of him, I stopped. I could feel every breath he took as his back rose and fell against my chest, and his body’s hot hold around my cock was exquisite torture.
“Jesus, it feels like weeks since I’ve been inside you.” I nipped at his ear and wrapped an arm around his waist to take hold of him. “Not days.”
JT hummed—fucking hummed—in his throat as he wriggled his ass on me. It seemed I wasn’t the only one needing this contact.
I squeezed my slippery fingers around his pulsing shaft and gave him several slow pulls, and when he started to shove through my fist then push back onto me, I knew it was time to move.
I gripped his hip with my other hand and began to pump my hips in time with the hand stroking him. JT dug his fingers into the brick for leverage, and the sight of him letting go and chasing after what he wanted sent another wave of adrenaline rushing through me.
Never did I expect JT to be this responsive. Never did I expect him to be all in this fast. But it seemed the more time we spent together, the more eager he was to explore—and being the greedy motherfucker I was, I wasn’t about to turn him away.
I was all about enabling.
I bent my head and dragged my tongue up his neck, and when he whimpered, I started to suck. I sucked and fucked him with every part of me I could—and JT went wild for it. The sounds coming out of him made my dick throb and my balls tighten, and my patience flew right off the fucking balcony as that damn buzzer went off somewhere down below.
The sound of the raucous applause followed right behind it, and as JT’s cock pulsed in my palm and he shook, about to detonate, I let go of his hip and threw a hand over his mouth.
I smothered his shouts as I buried my face in his curls, letting out an almighty growl as the two of us came with thunderous force. The impact was earth-shattering, the implications even more so, as the man in my arms collapsed back against me and I worked him to completion.
It was definitely like he’d cast a spell over me.
That was the only explanation for why I was standing in a poetry café in the East Village thinking about limericks and sonnets and how in the hell I was going to be able to keep JT and what we had to myself for a little bit longer.
