“Holy mother of all that’s sacred.” Morgan Muldoon stopped in the middle of the main room of his cousins’ nightclub, Sex Gods, as the man on stage began to fly.
It wasn’t that the gorgeous, built-like-a-god man was attached to the ceiling by only two lengths of red silk, or that he was wearing only a barely there, body-hugging, sparkly black pair of boy shorts that stopped Morgan in his tracks. Though it was his first time in the club, his first time in town, he had seen that man before. In every one of his dreams for the past three months. The man had flown in his dreams, too, a human bird who had landed in Morgan’s heart and nested in his soul. Now, here he was, the flesh-and-blood man who had haunted Morgan’s dreams, both sleeping and awake.
“He’s amazing, isn’t he?” his cousin, Riley Muldoon, asked.
When Morgan didn’t answer, Riley shoved him toward the long bar along one wall where they would prepare for the evening. Morgan took three slow steps in the direction of the bar before stopping again. His gaze remained glued on the man a good six feet above the stage who continued to fluidly move and pose with the red fabric wrapped around various parts of his body.
The man appeared lost in the music and his routine, unaware he was no longer alone in the club. The way he flowed from one position to the next, always holding himself a good six feet above the stage with an impressive show of strength and flexibility was unlike anything Morgan had ever seen before.
“Who is he?”
Without answering, Riley changed direction and headed for the stage instead of the bar. Morgan followed his cousin automatically. He needed to meet the god of flight who had been haunting his sleep.
Without thinking about his actions, Morgan pulled his phone out of his pocket and began taking pictures of the man as an idea for a new series of photographs slammed into his brain. Once he had a handful of pictures, he sent them to his agent along with the question of whether or not there would be interest in an article about this new dance form.
The man on stage finished his routine as they approached. By the time the music ended and silence replaced the haunting song that brought to Morgan’s mind the desert outside Morocco, the cousins stood at the bottom of the stairs that led to the main stage.
Riley waited until the man was back on the ground facing away from the room before speaking. “Hey, Dylan, I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”
The man named Dylan spun to face them, obviously startled. When he saw the two men, he relaxed minimally before sauntering across the stage on bare feet. “Hi, Riley. What’s up?”
Morgan wanted to groan as the man’s fluid, prowling catlike movements sent his half-hard cock to full erection.
“I want you to meet my cousin, Morgan Muldoon. He’ll be helping out around the bar for the next couple of weeks while he’s between assignments. Morgan, this is Dylan Greene, lead dancer and master of the silks here at Sex Gods.”
Morgan shifted with the wild hope that Dylan would not notice his cock pushing hard against the front of his jeans. He wondered if Riley would mind if he said to hell with work tonight, swept the smaller man up, and disappeared for the next week, or two, or however long it took to slake the sexual hunger that was clawing at his guts. Never before had he felt such intense, immediate attraction for anyone.
Knowing his cousin, Riley would probably get his brothers and their husbands together to beat the crap out of him for kidnapping the gorgeous dancer.
Looking into Dylan’s golden-brown eyes, Morgan thought for a moment that the risk may be would be worth the beatdown he would face. His gaze tracked down Dylan’s slim, powerfully built form. The growing bulge in Dylan’s skin-tight costume told him the man might not object to being swept away for a day, a week, or even longer.
But Morgan was only here for a few weeks until he either got a call from one of the half-dozen magazines he freelanced for, or figured out whether he even wanted to continue his career as a journalistic photographer. Until now, never staying in one place for more than a few days had never bothered him.
All at once he wondered if he should look into something more permanent and local instead of heading off to wherever the next story took him. Riley, Sullivan, Conor, and their mother probably would not mind if he settled around here. With his own parents dead for the past ten years, the cousins were all the family he had left. They had been after him to return to coastal North Carolina and settle down.
Riley cleared his throat, jarring Morgan from thoughts of spreading Dylan out across the king-size bed in the guest room at Aunt Maureen’s house, where he currently resided, and licking him from head to toe then back up again.
“Hello,” Morgan said after swallowing hard. He only hoped his smile wasn’t too goofy looking. He might be as dominant a man as his cousins, but right now he felt as inexperienced at romance as a toddler.
Dylan stood frozen as he and stared at the hand before him. It was a big hand, a strong hand, with long fingers and a broad palm. In his tired, not-thinking-clearly state, he became frightened. He had already told Morgan he would not sleep with him, but here they were, in a house, alone, and from the heat in Morgan’s bright blue eyes, the man had something planned.
“Ummm,” he said, his brain fritzing and bouncing around like a drop of water on a hot skillet.
Suddenly it all became too much. Everything grew fuzzy as tears filled his eyes and his entire body began to tremble. God, Morgan was going to think he was a baby. Closing his eyes so he could not see the disappointment in Morgan’s expression, Dylan turned away. He was not sure how long a walk it would be, but maybe he could make it back home in time to change and get on the beach for his shift, even though he had already called in and left a message that he would be out for the day.
“Oh, hell no,” he heard Morgan murmur as warm, strong arms came around and pulled him backward until his back pressed against Morgan’s big body. “I don’t know what’s going through that brain of yours, but stop thinking so hard. Trust me. Please?”
“But,” Dylan whispered, but did not finish speaking because he could not come up with a coherent argument at the moment.
“Shhhh, little bird. Let me take care of you tonight. Let me do the thinking and worrying. All you need to do is breathe, cooperate, and relax. Okay?”
As tired and confused as he was, letting someone else take over, even for a while sounded like a good deal. He would go back to being strong and in charge of his own life in the morning.
“Okay,” Dylan sighed as he relaxed deeper into Morgan’s body.
“Good boy,” Morgan murmured, accepting his weight easily.
A moment later, big, warm hands began to slide up and down the front of Dylan’s torso. Morgan’s touch was soothing, warming, comforting, and arousing all at the same time, which only added to Dylan’s confusion.
Then there was the fact that they were still standing on the front stoop. Even though there was no one in sight, and he could not see lights from the main house, Dylan knew there were people out there in the dark. What if someone popped out of the bushes and caught them fooling around out here? But as Morgan continued rubbing his warm hands over the bare skin of his chest and belly, the concern drifted away.
Dylan could not hold back a low moan as Morgan narrowed his attention to his chest and pinched his nipples between thumb and forefingers. It felt too good, and even as tired as he was, his body reacted and the erection he thought his exhaustion and the cool night air swirling around them had softened, returned with a vengeance.
Dropping his head back, he rested it against Morgan’s chest as the man played his body like a fine musical instrument. Finally, Morgan moved his attention from his now painfully hard nipples. Both hands slid slowly down his body to the waistband of his board shorts. The sound of Velcro ripping apart filled the early morning silence. Then his shorts dropped from around his hips to pool around his ankles, leaving him naked from his armpits down.
Dylan’s decision not to sleep with the man faded as Morgan’s warm hands traced random patterns over his skin, down his body to his thighs before starting back up again. Though he covered every inch of skin from nipples to upper thighs, Morgan never got close to his cock. His cock that was so hard it pulsed and throbbed with his need for release.
“Please, Morgan,” he moaned. “I need.”
“I know, little bird,” Morgan murmured in his ear just before he licked up the side of his neck. One big, powerful hand slid across his middle, holding him secure, as the other moved closer to his cock. “I know exactly what you need, baby.”
Dylan sucked a breath as warm fingers wrapped around the base of his cock. He released it on a whine when Morgan did not immediately begin to stroke him. “Please, Morgan, oh God, please.”
At his words, Morgan released his cock again, earning a soft howl of disapproval. “Spit, little bird,” Morgan ordered softly.
Opening eyes he had not realized he had shut, Dylan found Morgan’s hand in front of his face.
“Spit, baby. I need lube so I won’t hurt you and refuse to spend the next ten minutes looking around here for something.”
Though his brain still was not registering the reasoning behind the request, Dylan spit then watched as the big man holding him did the same. Seconds later, the hand, now warm and wet, engulfed Dylan’s cock. This time he did not just hold it; he began to slowly slide his palm up and down Dylan’s length.
On Morgan’s third stroke, he tightened his grip. The secure touch drove Dylan even closer to the edge. He could no longer keep his body still. Panting, he began to rock his hips back and forth, driving into Morgan’s secure hold faster and harder. Grabbing Morgan’s arms to stay somewhat grounded, he held on tight as his orgasm balled up just before it exploded and he skyrocketed.