prologue
This book should be read AFTER 'Bound By The Boss' in order for it to make sense. Please bear in mind that everything that happens takes place before most of the previous books and therefore some of the couples (Ash and Thomas, and Björn and Santi) would not have gotten together yet or even have met.
To clarify, only Farrell and The Boss have gotten together, but are only dating at this point.
Be warned that this is a gay romance with sexual, BDSM themes and mentions of topics that might be triggering for some readers. This is hardcore BDSM but rest assured that all sexual interactions between the main characters are consensual, no matter how rough they get.
TRAJAN'S P.O.V
I have always been extremely aware of the fact that my brain processed things differently than most others. From a young age, I have exercised a high level of control over most things in my life and have managed to hide my true urges from most of the world. I was often tempted to snap- to say 'fuck it all'- to lose my temper.
Especially tonight.
"This is the life!" Björn, my friend/ work colleague, cheered over the loud music of the strip club we were currently at.
He had three male strippers on his arms. He kissed one, and then kissed another, before turning to grin at me. He looked ridiculous with his dyed blond hair a ruffled mess and sunglasses on despite it being nighttime. His shirt was unbuttoned as if he were one of the strippers, and the word 'intoxicated' was too mild to describe him.
He was going through a rough patch after his boyfriend (my other friend/work colleague) Ash dumped him a few months ago and left on a mission with the SEALs. Björn was a psychopath who often acted like he didn't feel anything, but it was clear that Ash mattered to him. And now he was falling apart.
I just don't know why he had to bring me along to witness his descent into madness.
We had been at the club for a total of two hours now and the loud music, flashing lights and half-naked bodies were starting to get on my nerves. I wanted to return to my minimalist house with my classical music and hardcover copies of every classical novel known to mankind.
I was, to say the absolute least, 'out of my element'.
"Have you had your fun?" I asked Björn, "Or are you planning on staying here until you pass out?"
"The second one!" he laughed hysterically.
I rolled my eyes and stood up. I then shooed the strippers who were on him away and helped him off the couch. He whined and tried to argue with me as I led him out of the private room he'd paid for.
Everyone stared at us when we stepped out into the main club. I grimaced as a few men nearby whistled at us to come over. It was a gay strip club and at this hour, there were creeps aplenty.
In a sober state, Björn could fight them off easily. But he was drunk, and I wasn't trying to fight an entire group of intoxicated asshats on a random Friday night.
I got Björn outside, ordered an Uber for him and made sure to call his building so they'd know to get him into his penthouse safely.
"Bye, Trajan!" he yelled, waving out the window as the car pulled away. His sunglasses fell off and his brown eyes went wide. "Oh, I forgot my car keys!"
"I'll get them for you!" I shouted and he smiled before the car took a turn, disappearing out of my view.
I sighed but shook my head in amusement as I entered the club again. I glared at the creeps at the nearby table and walked over to the private room that Björn and I had been in so I could look for his car keys.
I found them on the couch he'd been sitting on and was about to leave when the door opened. The music turned sensual, lights dimming down as a new stripper entered the room.
"Oh, we're done here," I began, "We don't need anymore danc-"
Fuck.
The words died on my tongue as I took in the sight of the man before me. He looked young but definitely older than twenty-one and had soft features with an underlying edge.
It was his eyes that got me first. I had never seen eyes like those before. They looked golden in colour; not brown or hazel, but golden. Amber. With thick, dark lashes that matched his strong, dark brows and the curls that fell down to his slim shoulders.
My eyes roamed lower, taking in his outfit, which was nothing more than a red jockstrap with a pair of matching red gloves and thigh-high stockings. He was smaller than I was; tall and slim, but he walked over to the pole in the middle of the room with the confidence of a giant.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes..." he mused, running those seductive eyes over my body shamelessly as he wrapped his hands around the pole. "What's a handsome guy like you doing in a place like this?"
"I could ask you the same question," I retorted.
He's far too pretty to be working at such a cheap club...
He giggled before winking at me, "I'm flattered. Although, you might want to close your mouth. I'd hate to see you drool all over that expensive suit. That's my job..."
A brat, huh?
I love a good brat...
And he's easily the sexiest one I've ever laid my eyes on. Those legs- those lips- those eyes- those dimples... I want to take him home and bend him over my table. I wonder what sounds that pretty mouth can make for me...
"I'm not here for a dance," I said to both him and myself. "I was just about to leave."
"Huh," he pouted and shrugged, "What a shame. I was hoping you'd help me out."
"What do you mean?" I asked curiously.
"My shift is meant to end at 2," he explained, "It's 1 right now, and I figured I was lucky to end up serving the private room, away from all those weirdos out there. But since you're not staying for any dances, my boss might make me dance on the main stage..."
That's none of my business.
I should just walk away.
But the way he's pouting...
"It's just an hour," he mumbled, batting his lashes at me 'innocently'.
He clearly knew what he was doing, trying to lure me in like that. But I would take the bait.
"Fine," I sighed and sat on the couch, "One hour."
I'd watch him dance and then I'd leave when his shift was over.
ARLO'S P.O.V
I was thrilled when my boss told me that I could work in the private room instead of having to dance on the main stage tonight. But I never thought I'd be so lucky as to have a literal supermodel as my client. Everything about the man in front of me screamed 'old money, big dick, mafia man' vibes. I wasn't one to stereotype but I was shocked that he of all people was in a gay strip club, let alone one as cheap as this.
Plus, he didn't seem like the type of man who had to pay for anything sexual. I knew hundreds of people who would gladly take off their clothes for him free of charge. I myself was certainly tempted.
I breathed in as another sensual song started to play and I began to dance, swaying my hips slowly to the beat while my hands teased the cold pole. I tried not to focus too much on how those dark eyes were staring at me. His gaze was different to the other clients'; more intense and calculating. As if he was trying to see further than what was beneath my clothes.
When the beat picked up, I twirled on the pole and began to go through my routine for the song. I could feel him watching my every move and I instinctively tried to make myself look better for him. I arched my back more, tossed my head back and wrapped my thighs around the pole as I spun and dipped and rolled my hips.
I did this for two songs before I stopped to get to actual stripping. I slipped off my gloves and tossed them at him with a teasing smile that faltered a little when my eyes caught sight of his crotch.
Fuck.
I swallowed thickly, momentarily distracted by the shape of his dick straining against his expensive-looking slacks.
"My eyes are up here," he grumbled.
My gaze snapped back to his face and I smirked, "Oopsies."
He raised a brow but said nothing. However, his eyes said plenty. Those dark orbs, easily the darkest I'd ever seen, remained trained on me with a heated look.
"Like what you see?" I teased, running my hands over my chest and down my torso until I reached the edge of my jockstrap. "If you give me a good tip, I might just share mine..."
He scoffed a little at my joke but reached into his suit jacket to retrieve his wallet. He then proceeded to take out his cards and put them in his pocket before he tossed the leather wallet to me.
I caught it with wide eyes that only grew wider when I saw that it was filled with fifties and hundreds. There was easily a thousand dollars in cash.
I recovered from my shock and moved to take off my jockstrap but the man shook his head.
"Keep your clothes on," he said, "Consider the money an apology."
"An apology?"
He nodded and stood up, "I'm sorry but I have to cut the dance short. Looks like you'll be working the main stage, after all."
I had never had anyone cut a dance short with me before. I was easily the best stripper at the club, and yet this guy hadn't even bothered to wait for me to take my clothes off.
"Did I do something wrong?"
He shook his head, "On the contrary. You were wonderful."
"But...?"
"I want to fuck you," he stated, once again shocking me for a bit but I quickly recovered.
I smirked, "That can be arranged. I don't usually sleep with clients but you can be... an exception."
He shook his head once again, "It's better if we don't. I'm... a bit much to handle."
I glanced down at his erection blatantly. "I can take it."
He scoffed, "I'm not talking about that."
Ah. He must be into some freaky stuff.
"Nothing you like could match up to what I'm into," I assured him.
"I doubt that's true," he said and moved to leave.
I felt a pang of disappointment but tried not to linger on it as I looked down at his thick wallet. I had made money without even having to take off more than my gloves.
So what if I couldn't sleep with the sexy stranger? There were plenty of men who'd be willing to die for a night with me.
But I wanted him...
