Where Nerves End

with arousal, and every moan and curse drove me on, and when his breath caught, I was so turned on I was surprised I didnt come myself.
The floor vibrated beneath my knees, and in my minds eye, I saw everyone downstairs on the dance floor, bodies moving together in time with the bass, with every thrumming beat that reverberated through me. Without realizing it, Id fallen into the same rhythm as the music, and I moved with the pulsing beat just like everyone downstairs, and I imagined them getting closer to each other, touching and undulating, searching each other for the heat that crackled over their heads in the confines of my office. Hands sliding over clothes like my supporting hand slid up the side of Michaels leg. Lips parted to release hot, ragged breaths like the ones Michael released as his fingers tightened in my hair.
The beat quickened. Intensified. Or maybe that was my blood in my ears. Whatever it was, it drove me on, and I stroked Michael faster, and teased him with my lips and tongue, and his knee trembled beneath my other hand as I held on for balance, and one of us groaned but I didnt know who because I was too fucking turned on to care.
Michael barely made a sound, just a deep, almost inaudible groan, but every soul in the building must have felt the intensity of his release. I was certain we sent a powerful shockwave rippling through the club—blowing out speakers and bulbs, shattering bottles and glasses—in the same moment his semen flooded my tongue.
I sat back on my heels and swept my tongue across my lips as I looked up at him. His eyes were closed, his head resting against the door, and he didnt look down when he spoke.
“Fucking Christ,” he murmured, his voice barely reaching my ears. “I want to return the favor.”
He didnt ask. He didnt suggest it. Nervous and inexperienced or not, the undercurrent of his voice was bold and demanding, like it was a foregone conclusion that we would leave this place, and he would return the favor, and we would have sex before this night was over. That kind of presumptuousness usually put me off, but from him, it was more arousing than anything Id ever heard.
So we got the fuck out of there.

CHAPTER 13
    We left, but we didnt leave together. Michael went first, and as soon as he was clear of the front door, I slipped behind the firstfloor bar and pulled Brenda aside in the back room.
    “You mind closing up tonight?” I asked.

    She looked up from pulling a box of margarita salt off a shelf.
    “I thought your shoulder was doing better today.”
“It was.” I grimaced. “But…you know how it is.”
She scowled. “You really need someone to look at that thing,
    Davis. Youre going to be a crippled old man before youre forty.” “Yeah, well see.” All I could think was that with any luck, I
wouldnt be able to walk in the morning. Such was the plan
anyway, which meant it was time to get the fuck out of here. With
Brenda at the helm of Lights Out, I made a quick escape and just
about busted my ass twice on the way down the back steps. In the time it took me to drive from the club to my house, I was
sure Michael would change his mind. God knew how much nerve
it had taken him to come down there tonight in the first place, and,
at least in my experience, regret and hesitation usually came
traipsing in shortly after that first orgasm subsided. Once the
erection was gone, the mind was suddenly clear enough for doubts,
and if those doubts showed up, then Jason would be rubbing one
out in the shower tonight. Again.
When I walked in the front door, Michael waited for me at the
bottom of the stairs, and unless his eyes were lying, he hadnt
changed his mind. Not at all.
I crossed the floor, mouth watering and cock already
hardening, but just before I reached him, Michael stopped me with
a hand on his chest. My heart didnt even have time to react before
he gestured up the stairs.
“Up there,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “Once we get
started, Im not stopping.”
Without another word, we hurried upstairs.
As soon as we made it to the end of the upstairs hallway, within
reach of his bedroom door, Michael spun around and grabbed the
front of my shirt. We kissed with all the frantic, uncoordinated
hunger Id expected out on the rooftop earlier: breathless,
desperate, no idea what to do with our hands except grab on, hold
on, don’t let go, please, God, don’t let go .
Just like I had in my office, I pinned him against the door,
forcing his lips apart